White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1932-06-23
By
William Macleod Raine
(WNU Service)
Copyright by William Macleod Ralne

Copyright by William Macleod Raine
a sure enough pepper box when she
| gets to going good"
VERIFY chuckled. 'Tha's right, Wills
| I dunno as there's any use startin'
| anything. She'll find out soon enough
! anyhow"
The girl returned with basin of
water, towel, and piece Of torn
rag for wash cloth.
The old-timer protested. "Now looky
here, ma'am, I'm a heap obliged to
you, but can wash my own face an
not trouble you. been doing it
right smart time without valley"
"Off an on-for a hundred an how
many years, Jim" murmured the
younger man.
"Hmp! I'm fifty-seven, If you want
to know. An never was sick day
In my life. You young sprouts
think" Jim became sputteringly in
articulate.
II like mature men myself" Miss
Stark announced and sat down on the
edge Of the bed prepared for business.
Before VERIFY could master effective
opposition a soapy rag was travelling
over his face
wash him good behind the ears,
ma'am," advised Mccain solicitously.
"You go to-Yuma I" retorted the in
dignant homesteader.
His nurse took charge imperiously.
Better go out and take the saddle off
Mr.. Yerby's horse. put it in the
corral"
Mccain went. When saddle and
bride were off, the animal flung up it's
heels and went flying round the corral.
Meanwhile Miss Julia Stark was ask
ing her host question.
"Who is he?"
"Fellow from over the Frio way. l
get them young riders all mixed up,"
he answered evasively.
zone Of McCann's riders?" she
asked quickly. II don't remember
him."
They're always driftin' in an out.
Mostly their homes are under their
hats"
yes" she agreed, not wholly salts
fed with this explanation. She had
an impression that she had seen him
before and ought to remember who
he was.
Mccain appeared in the doorway.
expect I'd better go for Doc Sanders
now" he said to the girl. "Unless
you'd rather ride home and have one
of yore boys go for him. Maybe that
would be better"
mo, I'll stay. But wish you'd stop
at the Circle Cross and tell my father
l won't be home till late. He'll get to
worrying. Tell him not to send for
me. I'll come back with the DOCTOR
On the brown face Of the young man
was faint sardonic grin. In not let
ting her know who he was he had
built trap for himself He reflected
! that he would be as welcome at the
Circle Cross as June hail storm in
grain-raising country. But he had to
go through now or drag his tail.
"Ill stop on my way" he promised.
The suns rays streamed down the
arroyo through which Mccain and
Doctor Sanders rode. BY the time
they came to sight of the desert long
shadows were stretching across from
the Tomas.
Mccain drew up. 81 reckon here's
where we part, Doc. See you later"
Doctor Sanders, small plump man
in a land of lank giants, gave him the
valedictory Of the plains, $50 long,"
then DETECTED to follow trail lead
ing to the right His companion
pushed into a small gorge in front
of him.
The Flying Wy and the Circle Cross
ranches were twenty miles apart, but
distance could not obliterate the
hatred Of the owners. They had been
close friends once, Peter Mccain and
Matthew Stark. In their youth they
had side by side chased Texas brush
splitters over the salt grass bumps.
Together they had followed the west
ward tide of migration to Arizona. In