The silver state. [volume] (Winnemucca, Nev.) 1909-1925, 1923-04-19

ut that's true about your dad" he
said, I'm sorry. How did he die?"
Sensing the hypocrisy of the shift
to sympathy, the girl took a step for
ward. Mormon's pupils contracted
again; his finger itched to press the
trigger 1t touched.
ITS none of yore business" said
the girl. "You gilt"
"None Of my business? don't agree
with you there. you little h-l-weasel.
Your father and me had more than
one deal together. You and I may
have to do business together yet. Molly
| mine!"
Molly's teeth showed between her
parted lips. her fingers were hooked.
Mormon anticipated her indignant
leap. His gun spurted fire. the expen-
sive Stetson broadrim seemed lifted
from Plimsoll's hair by an Invisible
hand. With the report 1t sailed for
ward, side-slipped, landed on It's rim,
perforated by steel-nosed .3S-caliber
bullet.
II give you last warnin'," roared
Mormon.
Plimsoll sprang ahead like racer
| at the starters shot, snatched at his
hat, missed 1t, let 1t lie as he ran on
to his horse, mounted and went gal
Looping off. Mormon holstered his gun
and swung about to Molly, standing
with crimson cheeks, blazing eyes and
young bosom turbulent with emo
tions
II wlsht you'd killed him. wisht
you'll killed hint" she cried. 81 wisht
When he says he was ever in deal
with Dad, he lies. Dad stood for him
and that was all. He purtended to
be awful strong for Dad, purtended
to be fond Of me, jest to swarm round
Dad. for some reason. Brought me
HI did l want with dol?' she
painted. II burned the d-n thing that
night In the fire. He kissed me an
Dad seemed to think l owed 1t him
for the doll. l nigh bit my lip off
afterward. wisht yore first shot had
been higher. or yore second lower,
Peters"
Call me Uncle Mormon, Molly. He's
sure some snake. But we'll take care
Of Jim Plimsoll, yore Uncle Mormon,
with Sam an Sandy"
Patting Molly's shoulder, Mormon
smiled at her with his irresistible
grin. and she reflected 1t family as
she tucked in the remnants of her
torn sleeve.
"That's the on'y dress l got till
Sandy Bourke wins me some money"
she said
His arm around her shoulder, pur-
posely chatting away, Mormon led
Molly toward the ranch house. Pllm-
soils horse was stirring up dust
cloud on the way to Hereford, other
puffs, far away toward the range,
proclaimed that the blackboard was
on its way with its funeral freight
The body Of the old prospector was
lowered into the grave with the last
of the daylight. Molly Casey walked
away alone. her head high, the corner
of her lower lip caught under her
teeth, eyes winking back the tears.
IT was the headboard that had forced
her struggle for composure. Mormon
had marked on 1t, with the heavy
lead of carpenters pencil.
PATRICK CASEY
lies here
where the grass grows
and the water runs. He
looked for gold In the desert
and found death.
Buried June 10,
1920
EFF that suits you," he told Molly.
'they's chap over to Hereford
who's a wolf on carvin'. My letterin's
punk. When yore mines pay you c'ud
have It in stone"
"You-all are awful good to me-" was
all she could trust herself to say.
Each of the Three Musketeers of the
Range felt tug to take her In his
arms and comfort her. Instead they
looked at one another, as men of
their breed do. Sam pulled at his
mustache. Mormon rubbed the top
of his bald head and Sandy rolled
cigarette and smoked 1t silently.
Molly ate no supper that night. Be
fore dawn Sandy thought he heard the
door of her room open and soft foot
falls stealing down the stairs. When
he went later to the spring he found
the grave covered with the wild
blooms that the girl had picked in
the dewy dawn.