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father's court! Sir, I forbid you to take another step into this house."
Steele's face was bloodless now, and I wondered if it had to do with her
scathing scorn or something that he hid with his hand closing his coat
that way.
"Miss Sampson, I don't need warrants to search houses," he said. "But
this time I'll respect your command. It would be too bad to spoil your
party. Let me add, perhaps you do me a little wrong. God knows I hope
so. I was shot by a rustler. He fled. I chased him here. He has taken
refuge here--in your father's house. He's hidden somewhere."
Steele spread wide his coat lapels. He wore a light shirt, the color of
which in places was white. The rest was all a bloody mass from which
dark red drops fell to the floor.
"Oh!" cried Miss Sampson.
Scorn and passion vanished in the horror, the pity, of a woman who
imagined she saw a man mortally wounded. It was a hard sight for a
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woman's eyes, that crimson, heaving breast.
"Surely I didn't see that," went on Steele, closing his coat. "You used
unforgettable words, Miss Sampson. From you they hurt. For I stand
alone. My fight is to make Linrock safer, cleaner, a better home for
women and children. Some day you will remember what you said."
How splendid he looked, how strong against odds. How simple a dignity
fitted his words. Why, a woman far blinder than Diane Sampson could have
seen that here stood a man.
Steele bowed, turned on his heel, and strode out to vanish in the dark.
Then while she stood bewildered, still shocked, I elected to do some
rapid thinking.
How seriously was Steele injured? An instant's thought was enough to
tell me that if he had sustained any more than a flesh wound he would
not have chased his assailant, not with so much at stake in the future.
Then I concerned myself with a cold grip of desire to get near the
rustler who had wounded Steele. As I started forward, however, Miss
Sampson defeated me. Sally once more clung to my hands, and directly we
were surrounded by an excited circle.
It took a moment or two to calm them.
"Then there's a rustler--here--hiding?" repeated Miss Sampson.
"Miss Sampson, I'll find him. I'll rout him out," I said.
"Yes, yes, find him, Russ, but don't use violence," she replied. "Send
him away--no, give him over to--"
"Nothing of the kind," interrupted George Wright, loud-voiced. "Cousin,
go on with your dance. I'll take a couple of cowboys. I'll find
this--this rustler, if there's one here. But I think it's only another
bluff of Steele's."
This from Wright angered me deeply, and I strode right for the door.
"Where are you going?" he demanded.
"I've Miss Sampson's orders. She wants me to find this hidden man. She
trusts me not to allow any violence."
"Didn't I say I'd see to that?" he snarled.
"Wright, I don't care what you say," I retorted. "But I'm thinking you
might not want me to find this rustler."
Wright turned black in the face. Verily, if he had worn a gun he would
have pulled it on me. As it was, Miss Sampson's interference probably
prevented more words, if no worse.
"Don't quarrel," she said. "George, you go with Russ. Please hurry. I'll
be nervous till the rustler's found or you're sure there's not one."
We started with several cowboys to ransack the house. We went through
the rooms, searching, calling out, flashing our lanterns in dark places.
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It struck me forcibly that Wright did all the calling. He hurried, too,
tried to keep in the lead. I wondered if he knew his voice would be
recognized by the hiding man.
Be that as it might, it was I who peered into a dark corner, and then
with a cocked gun leveled I said: "Come out!"
He came forth into the flare of lanterns, a tall, slim, dark-faced
youth, wearing dark sombrero, blouse and trousers. I collared him before
any of the others could move, and I held the gun close enough to make
him shrink.
But he did not impress me as being frightened just then; nevertheless,
he had a clammy face, the pallid look of a man who had just gotten over
a shock. He peered into my face, then into that of the cowboy next to
me, then into Wright's and if ever in my life I beheld relief I saw it
then.
That was all I needed to know, but I meant to find out more if I could.
"Who're you?" I asked quietly.
He gazed rather arrogantly down at me. It always irritated me to be
looked down at that way.
"Say, don't be gay with me or you'll get it good," I yelled, prodding
him in the side with the cocked gun. "Who are you? Quick!"
"Bo Snecker," he said.
"Any relation to Bill Snecker?"
"His son."
"What'd you hide here for?"
He appeared to grow sullen.
"Reckoned I'd be as safe in Sampson's as anywheres."
"Ahuh! You're taking a long chance," I replied, and he never knew, or
any of the others, just how long a chance that was.
Sight of Steele's bloody breast remained with me, and I had something
sinister to combat. This was no time for me to reveal myself or to show
unusual feeling or interest for Steele.
As Steele had abandoned his search, I had nothing to do now but let the
others decide what disposition was to be made of Snecker.
"Wright, what'll you do with him?" I queried, as if uncertain, now the
capture was made. I let Snecker go and sheathed my weapon.
That seemed a signal for him to come to life. I guessed he had not much
fancied the wide and somewhat variable sweep of that cocked gun.
"I'll see to that," replied Wright gruffly, and he pushed Snecker in
front of him into the hall. I followed them out into the court at the
back of the house.
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As I had very little further curiosity I did not wait to see where they
went, but hurried back to relieve Miss Sampson and Sally.
I found them as I had left them--Sally quiet, pale, Miss Sampson nervous
and distressed. I soon calmed their fears of any further trouble or
possible disturbance. Miss Sampson then became curious and wanted to
know who the rustler was.
"How strange he should come here," she said several times.
"Probably he'd run this way or thought he had a better chance to hide
where there was dancing and confusion," I replied glibly.
I wondered how much longer I would find myself keen to shunt her mind
from any channel leading to suspicion.
"Would papa have arrested him?" she asked.
"Colonel Sampson might have made it hot for him," I replied frankly,
feeling that if what I said had a double meaning it still was no lie.
"Oh, I forgot--the Ranger!" she exclaimed suddenly. "That awful
sight--the whole front of him bloody! Russ, how could he stand up under
such a wound? Do you think it'll kill him?"
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