The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1917-03-01

kind as the one cut out of you. BY
gum! Boy, it I'd have killed you If
1t d stayed there"
"It would indeed, uncle" replied
Duane, and the old, haunting, somber
mood returned.
But Duane was not often at the
mercy of childish old ero-worshiping
Uncle Jim. Miss Longstreth was the
only person who seemed to divine
Duane's gloomy mood, and when she
was with him she warded off all sug-
gestiOn.
One afternoon while she was there
at the west window, a message came
for him. They read 1t together.
You have saved the ranger service to
the Lone Star State.
MacNelly.
Ray knelt beside him at the window,
and he believed she meant to speak
then of the thing they had stunned.
Her face was still white, but sweeter
marble; and her dark eyes were still
intent, still haunted by shadows, but
no longer tragic.
'Tm glad for MacNelly's sake as
well as the states" said Duane.
She made no reply to that and
seemed to be thinking deeply. Duane
sbrank a little.
'"The pain-is 1t any worse today"
she asked, instantly. E
"NO; it's the same. 1t will always
be the same. I'm full of lead, you
know. But l don't mind a little pain"
"Then-it's the old mood-the
fear?" she whispered. "Tell me-"
"Yes. 1t haunts me. I'll be well
sOOn-able to go out. Then that
that hell will come back"
"No. mol" she said with emotion.
"Some drunken cowboy, some fool
with gun, will hunt me out in every
town. wherever l CO." he went on.
miserably. "Buck Duane! To kill
Buck Duanel'
Hush! Don't speak so. Listen.
You remember that day in Val Verde,
when l came to you-pleaded with you
not to meet Poggin? Oh, that was a
terrible hour for me. But it showed
me the truth. l saw the struggle be-
tween your passion to kill and your
love for me. / could have saved you
then had known what / know now.
Now l understand that-that thing
which haunts you. But you'll never
have to kill another man. thank God -
Like drowning man he would have
grasped at straws, but he could not
voice his passionate query.
She put tender arms round his neck.
Because you'll have me with you al
ways" she replied. Because always
i shall be between you and that
that terrible thing"
1t seemed with the spoken thought
absolute assurance of her power came
to her. Duane realized instantly that
he was in the arms of stronger
woman than she who had pleaded with
him that fatal day.
"We'll-we1l be married and leave
Texas" she said, softly, with the red
blood rising rich and dark in her
cheeks.
"Ray!
"Yes we will, though you're laggard
In asking me. SIR"
"But, dear-suppose," he replied,
huskily, suppose there might be--be
children--a boy. A boy with his
fathers blood!"
II pray God there will be. I do
not fear what you fear. But even So
he'll be half my blood"
Duane felt the storm rise and break
in him. And his terror was that of
joy quelllng fear. The shining glory
Of love In this woman's eyes made him
weak ,s child. How could she
love him-hOw could she so bravely
face future with him? Yet she held
him In her arms, twining her hands
round his neck, and pressing close
to him. Her faith and love and beauty
these she meant to throw between
him and all that terrible past. They
were her power, and she meant TO
use them all. He dared not think of
accepting her sacrifice.
"But Ray you dear, noble girl
I'm poor. ! have nothing. And I'm
cripple"
"oh, you'll be well some day." she
replied. "And listen. have money.
My mother left me well off. All she
had was her fathers Do you under
stand? Well take Uncle Jim and
your mother. Wen go to Louisiana
to my old home. It's far from here
There's plantation to work. There
are horses and cattle--a great cypress
forest to cut. Oh. yOu'll have much 10