The Coolidge examiner., 1931-08-21

cey had called Lon. Perhaps the
rough joke would have ended grim
ly enough. But here, suddenly,
Sabra herself took a hand in the
proceedings. Her fright had van
ished. These were no longer men,
evil. sinister. to be feared, but
mean little boys to be put in their
place. She now advanced on them
in the majesty of her plumes and
her silk, her fine eyes flashing. her
glOved fOretinger admOnishing them
as if they were indeed naughty
children. She was every inch the
very essence of that iron woman
Felice Venable.
Don't you 'missus' me! You're a
lot of miserable. gOOd-fOr-nOthing
lOafers, that's what you are!
Shooting at people in the streets.
You leave my husband alone.
declare, I've notion to"
For one ridiculous dreadful mo-
ment it looked as though she meant
TO slap the leathery bearded cheek
of the bad man known as Lon
YOuntis. Certainly she raised her
little hand in it's neat black kid.
The eyes of the three were pop
ping. Lon YOuntis ducked his head
exactly like an urchin who is about
TO be Smacked by the SchOOlmarm.
Then. with yelp of pure terror he
fled into the saloon. followed by
the other two.
Sabra stood a moment. 1t really
looked as though she might make
after them. But she thought bet
ter of ii and sailed down the steps
in triumph to behold a crushed,
despairing Yancey.
"Oh. my Cd. Sabra! What
have you done to me ~
whats the matterW
This time tomorrow it'll be all
over the whole Southwest, from
Mexico to Arkansas, that Yancey
Cravat hid behind a woman's pet
ticoats."
But you didn't. They can't say
so. You shot him very nicely in
the ear, darling" Thus had a
scant eighteen hours in the Okla
hOma country twisted her normal
viewpoint so askew that she did
not even notice the grotesquerie
of what she had just said.
They're telling it now, in there.
A wOman's got no call TO interfere
when men are having a little dis
pute."
Dispute! Why, Yancey Cravat d!
He shot your hat right off your
head !"
what of It'll Little friendly
shooting"
The enormity of this example of
masculine clanniShness left her
temporarily speechless with indig-
nation. Lets be getting on" YAM
cey continued. calmly. IF we're
going to look at Doc Nisbett's
house we'd better look at it. There
are only two or three to be had in
the whole town. and his is the pick
of them. It's central" Central she
thought. looking about her) land
according TO what he said last night
there's a room In the front big
enough for getting out the paper.
lt'll have to be newspaper and law
office in one Then there are four
rooms in the back to live in.
Plenty"
"Oh, plenty" echoed Sabra,
| thinking of the nine or ten visit
ing Venables always comfortably
tucked away in the various high
ceiIinged bedrooms in the Wichita
! house.
They resumed their walk. Sabra
wondered If she had imagined the
shooting outside the Red Dog sa
| loon.
Doc Nisbett (veterinarian) shirt
sleeveG, shrewd, with generations
of New England ancestry behind
him, was seated in a chair tipped
up against the front of his coveted
property In the rush for Territory
town sites at the time of the
Opening he had managed TO lay his
gnarled hands on five choice
| pieces. On these he erected dwell
ings, tilted mis- chair up against
each in turn, and took his pick of
late-comers frantic for some sort
of shelter they could call a home.
The dwelling itself looked like
one of Gins childish drawings OF
a house. The roof was an inverted
V; there was front door, a side
door, and a spindling little porch.
1t was a box, shelter merely, as
angular and unlOvely as the man
who owned it.
Taking her cue from Yancey-
Lovely" murmured Sabra, agon-
lied. DO very nicely. Perfectly
comfortable. | see. [ see. see" 4"
There you are!" They stood on
the porch, the tour completed.
Yancey slapped his hands together
gayly, as though by so doing he
had summoned a genie who had
tossed up the house before their
very eyes. In the discussion of
monthly rental he had been a child
in the hands of this lean and grasp
ing New Englander. There you
are! That's all settled" He struck
an attitude Survey our empire,
and behold our homer"
'Heh, hold on a minute" rasped
Doc Nisbett. How about water?"
"Sabra. honey, you settle these
little matters between you-you
and Doc-will you? I've got to
run down the street and see Jesse
Hickey about putting up the press
Al aoI-- 4