The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1930-10-03
CHAPTER /
A Desert Greeting

Ou AOl sc anu lu0A luC CfAdCLSC w as
written plain that they had travelled
far. Yellow dust, fine as powder. had
Sifted into every crease of the riders
trousers. 1t covered his boots. his
black hat, his coat. 1t streaked the
young fellows face and caked his
burning throat. The eyes of the man
were sunken and bloodshot. AS for
the animal, sweat stains blotted flank
and withers. Hoofs dragged and head
dropped.
Garrett O'Hara nodded in the sad
die. The heat of the sun made him
sleepy. No pressing engagement
awaited him at Concho. Why not
throw off among the trees and lie down
in the shade for an hour? So, sleepily,
he unused, hand on the horn to steady
his lax body.
Out of the slumberous heat of the
afternoon came sinister greeting. The
travellers hat, tilted to protect the
face from the suns rays. was lifted
from his head as though by sudden
current of wind. The sound of an ex-
plosion doomed. From the chaparral
smoke drifted skyward
O'Hara's languor vanished-and so
did he. Before the booming of the
rifle had died, before the first thin
shred of smoke had appeared, he had
dung himself out of the saddle and
was scuttling for the brush. AS he
ran he stopped to scoop up his hat.
Not till he had lodged past much
greasewood and mesquite did he stop
to reconnoiter. For one glance had
shown him.. two holes in the hat. A
bullet had passed through the side anu
crown. If the ambusher had fired
two inches lower the lead would have
crashed through the victims brain.
The running man pulled up to con-
slider ways and means. The position
of the holes in the hat showed him
that the shot had come from the right.
What was the object Of this attack?
O'Hara was stranger. He could have
no enemies. not In this frontier land.
Since he was unknown. nobody could
have acquired a grudge against him.
Robbery. then, could have been the
only motive. Somebody had tried to
assassinate him to get his wallet, or
else his horse and saddle. Who?
O'Hara meant to find out, if it could
be done without too much risk.
Slowly, with the greatest precaution
against the swapping of twigs or the
rustic of bushes, he moved toward the
road. revolver In hand. He stopped.
Something orr some one was moving
rapidly in the brush parallel to him.
A voice, two voices, came abruptly
from the left. The first. a rough,
heavy one, startled by surprise: "You,
by cripes!"
The other high and clear, on a note
of excited resentment: "Who did you
expect? Who were you trying to kill?"
''Why in Mexico do you ride around
in them clothes?" The rough voice
held both apology and evaporation.
Suppose you mind your own busi-
ness, Shep Sanderson," came swift,
sharp answer. "What want to know
is why you shot at me?"
O'Hara, edging forward. could see
them now from the cover Of a cholla.
They were In draw One, a light
slender figure, stood against a bank,
revolver in hand. The other, the big
hulking man. carried rifle.
The eavesdropper had a swift sus-
picion, which he verified by craning
his neck around the cactus. The one
who had spoken last was young
woman. She wore the shiny chaps
of a cowboy, plain wide feathers into
which she had thrust her skirts.
81 amt admittin' 1 shot at you. but
II l did had no way of KNOWN it
was a woman, let alone you. You got
no license to wear that get-up." There
was outraged virtue in the heavy
growl.
you shoot first and find out after
ward who you're shootin' at. Is that
1t? I'll see what Dave Ingram has
got to say about that. If you want to
kncw, you're nothing but a low-dowu
numbering wolf"
Nov looky here. Miss Steelman,