The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1942-06-04

Ded, white ana StrengtnleSS, all neT
love gone, and whispered: 81 should
tell you something. Clay. I made a
mistake. 1t was Ben I wanted to
marry. You and | are not at all
alike" And so she had died.
He had turned away. But he
turned back, holding the warm
small hand of his daughter within
his own big fingers, knowing that in
his daughters head was a wistful
and wonderful image of her mother
-an image made out of child's
longing. Like fairy tale, he
thought, that had to be bright and
always fair.
He was thinking of this, pleased
by her pleasure, when he saw a
low-bent and shadowy shape run
from the alley adjoining the Noun
tain House hotel and whip across
the street toward Mike Boylan's
blacksmith shop. This was in the
corner building of Old Town, and
Mike Boylan, late-working, had hung
a lantern above the shops wide
double-door. A saddle horse stood
loose before Boylan's rack, toward
which the running man aimed. Far
ther up the street somebody shouted
a warning and Three Pines rider
rushed forward from McGarrah's
store. Slowly pacing forward to-
ward Mike Boylan's shop, Morgan
identified the runner as soon as the
latter entered the yellow arc of the
lanterns light. 1t was Ollie Jacks.
Ollie Jacks breath was a lung
ing, painful sound in the night as
he rushed against the horse, threw
himself into the saddle and clawed
at the reins. For brief moment
his face came around and Morgan
saw the CONSTRUCTED desperation on
it; then Ollie Jacks slashed the
horse away from the blacksmith
shop, turned into the gap between
Old Town and McGarrah's store,
and raced down-slope into the des-
ert.
Janet's hand gripped Clay Nor
gan's fingers. What's the matter,
Daddy?"
Nothing" he said, nothing but
Ollie Jacks having some fun" He
quickened his step, coming into the
gap and hating there as a pair of
Three Pines men reached it. Heren-
deem arrived. saying: "Get your
horses" and then these men were
facing Clay Morgan. One of them
had drawn his gun to take a shot at
the retreating Ollie Jacks. He held
the gun half out of the holster, star
ing at Morgan, but Ollie Jacks was
gone and it was too late and he let
the gun drop back, struggling his
shoulders. Three Pines men were
riding up behind Herendeen and
Herendeen's face was red and
round.
The echo of Ollie Jacks horse
made a dying tattoo in the black
ness, out in the desert. Other Three
Pines riders were rushing from town
by the stage road. Morgan said,
courteous and quiet: Maybe JAN
eft and l are in your way. Wen
step aside"
'No," said Herendeen, rage run
ming behind his false-cool tone.
There is nothing to hurry about.
There's time for everything, Clay.
Good evening, Janet"
Janet said in her precise, little
woman's voice: Good evening""
Morgan pulled her gently on to Nc
Garrah's porch. Ann McGarrah
waited there. Part of the Three
D,poc oraxx, na1IoraJ {o,r,arI 4ba Jo-
ert, after Ollie Jacks. Herendeen
walked up the street, his boots lift
ing dust.
Morgan said, 'I'Il ride along, hon.
ey. Be back in a few days. You
have a good time" He reached
down and kissed her, feeling the
warmth of her hands as she held
them at the back of his neck. He
was smiling as he Strengthened,
smiling at Janet, and then at Ann
McGarrah's attentive eyes. Out on
the desert - far out gunshot
sounded, quick and faint, and was
echoed by two other shots. That
was all. Ann McGarrah saw the
smile die and saw the flame of tenn
per in his eyes. They both knew
Ollie Jacks was dead. Herendeen
had respected Morgan's challenge;
that and nothing more. Morgan lift
ed his hat, noting how Ann Nc
Garrah's arm rested on Janets
shoulder. He said, Good night"
and turned into the street.
ITO b COVTENUEDJ