章节正文
"What do you care for the insinuations of such a man?" said Ray
Longstreth, her voice now deep and rich with feeling. "After a
moment's thought no one will be influenced by them. Do not
worry, Floyd. Tell papa not to worry. Surely after all these
years he can't be injured in reputation by--by an adventurer."
"Yes, he can be injured," replied Floyd, quickly. "The frontier
is a queer place. There are many bitter men here--men who have
failed at ranching. And your father has been wonderfully
successful. The ranger has dropped poison, and it'll spread."
CHAPTER XVIII
Strangers rode into Fairdale; and other hard-looking customers,
new to Duane if not to Fairdale, helped to create a charged and
waiting atmosphere. The saloons did unusual business and were
never closed. Respectable citizens of the town were awakened in
the early dawn by rowdies carousing in the streets.
Duane kept pretty close under cover during the day. He did not
entertain the opinion that the first time he walked down-street
he would be a target for guns. Things seldom happened that way;
and when they did happen so, it was more accident than design.
But at night he was not idle. He met Laramie, Morton, Zimmer,
and others of like character; a secret club had been formed;
and all the members were ready for action. Duane spent hours at
night watching the house where Floyd Lawson stayed when he was
not up at Longstreth's. At night he was visited, or at least
the house was, by strange men who were swift, stealthy,
mysterious--all that kindly disposed friends or neighbors would
not have been. Duane had not been able to recognize any of
these night visitors; and he did not think the time was ripe
for a bold holding-up of one of them. Nevertheless, he was sure
such an event would discover Lawson, or some one in that house,
to be in touch with crooked men.
Laramie was right. Not twenty-four hours after his last talk
with Duane, in which he advised quick action, he was found
behind the little bar of his restaurant with a bullet-hole in
his breast, dead. No one could be found who had heard a shot.
It had been deliberate murder, for upon the bar had been left
a piece of paper rudely scrawled with a pencil: "All friends of
rangers look for the same."
This roused Duane. His first move, however, was to bury
Laramie. None of Laramie's neighbors evinced any interest in
the dead man or the unfortunate family he had left. Duane saw
that these neighbors were held in check by fear. Mrs. Laramie
was ill; the shock of her husband's death was hard on her; and
she had been left almost destitute with five children. Duane
rented a small adobe house on the outskirts of town and moved
the family into it. Then he played the part of provider and
nurse and friend.
After several days Duane went boldly into town and showed that
he meant business. It was his opinion that there were men in
Fairdale secretly glad of a ranger's presence. What he intended
to do was food for great speculation. A company of militia
could not have had the effect upon the wild element of Fairdale
that Duane's presence had. It got out that he was a gunman
lightning swift on the draw. It was death to face him. He had
killed thirty men--wildest rumor of all. lt was actually said
of him he had the gun-skill of Buck Duane or of Poggin.
At first there had not only been great conjecture among the
vicious element, but also a very decided checking of all kinds
of action calculated to be conspicuous to a keen-eyed ranger.
At the tables, at the bars and lounging-places Duane heard the
remarks: "Who's thet ranger after? What'll he do fust off? Is
he waitin' fer somebody? Who's goin' to draw on him fust--an'
go to hell? Jest about how soon will he be found somewheres
full of lead?"
When it came out somewhere that Duane was openly cultivating
the honest stay-at-home citizens to array them in time against
the other element, then Fairdale showed its wolf-teeth. Several
times Duane was shot at in the dark and once slightly injured.
Rumor had it that Poggin, the gunman, was coming to meet him.
But the lawless element did not rise up in a mass to slay Duane
on sight. It was not so much that the enemies of the law
awaited his next move, but just a slowness peculiar to the
frontier. The ranger was in their midst. He was interesting, if
formidable. He would have been welcomed at card-tables, at the
bars, to play and drink with the men who knew they were under
suspicion. There was a rude kind of good humor even in their
open hostility.
Besides, one ranger or a company of rangers could not have held
the undivided attention of these men from their games and
drinks and quarrels except by some decided move. Excitement,
greed, appetite were rife in them. Duane marked, however, a
striking exception to the usual run of strangers he had been in
the habit of seeing. Snecker had gone or was under cover. Again
Duane caught a vague rumor of the coming of Poggin, yet he
never seemed to arrive. Moreover, the goings-on among the
habitues of the resorts and the cowboys who came in to drink
and gamble were unusually mild in comparison with former
conduct. This lull, however, did not deceive Duane. It could
not last. The wonder was that it had lasted so long.
Duane went often to see Mrs. Laramie and her children. One
afternoon while he was there he saw Miss Longstreth and Ruth
ride up to the door. They carried a basket. Evidently they had
heard of Mrs. Laramie's trouble. Duane felt strangely glad, but
he went into an adjoining room rather than meet them.
"Mrs. Laramie, I've come to see you," said Miss Longstreth,
cheerfully.
The little room was not very light, there being only one window
and the doors, but Duane could see plainly enough. Mrs. Laramie
lay, hollow-checked and haggard, on a bed. Once she had
evidently been a woman of some comeliness. The ravages of
trouble and grief were there to read in her worn face; it had
not, however, any of the hard and bitter lines that had
characterized her husband's.
Duane wondered, considering that Longstreth had ruined Laramie,
how Mrs. Laramie was going to regard the daughter of an enemy.
"So you're Granger Longstreth's girl?" queried the woman, with
her bright, black eyes fixed on her visitor.
"Yes," replied Miss Longstreth, simply. "This is my cousin,
Ruth Herbert. We've come to nurse you, take care of the
children, help you in any way you'll let us."
There was a long silence.
"Well, you look a little like Longstreth," finally said Mrs.
Laramie, "but you're not at ALL like him. You must take after
your mother. Miss Longstreth, I don't know if I can--if I ought
accept anything from you. Your father ruined my husband."
"Yes, I know," replied the girl, sadly. "That's all the more
reason you should let me help you. Pray don't refuse. It will--
mean so much to me."
If this poor, stricken woman had any resentment it speedily
melted in the warmth and sweetness of Miss Longstreth's manner.
Duane's idea was that the impression of Ray Longstreth's beauty
was always swiftly succeeded by that of her generosity and
nobility. At any rate, she had started well with Mrs. Laramie,
and no sooner had she begun to talk to the children than both
they and the mother were won. The opening of that big basket
was an event. Poor, starved little beggars! Duane's feelings
seemed too easily roused. Hard indeed would it have gone with
Jim Laramie's slayer if he could have laid eyes on him then.
However, Miss Longstreth and Ruth, after the nature of tender
and practical girls, did not appear to take the sad situation
to heart. The havoc was wrought in that household.
The needs now were cheerfulness, kindness, help, action--and
these the girls furnished with a spirit that did Duane good.
"Mrs. Laramie, who dressed this baby?" presently asked Miss
Longstreth. Duane peeped in to see a dilapidated youngster on
her knee. That sight, if any other was needed, completed his
full and splendid estimate of Ray Longstreth and wrought
strangely upon his heart.
"The ranger," replied Mrs. Laramie.
"The ranger!" exclaimed Miss Longstreth.
"Yes, he's taken care of us all since--since--" Mrs. Laramie
choked.
"Oh! So you've had no help but his," replied Miss Longstreth,
hastily. "No women. Too bad! I'll send some one, Mrs. Laramie,
and I'll come myself."
"It'll be good of you," went on the older woman. "You see, Jim
had few friends--that is, right in town. And they've been
afraid to help us--afraid they'd get what poor Jim--"
"That's awful!" burst out Miss Longstreth, passionately. "A
brave lot of friends! Mrs. Laramie, don't you worry any more.
We'll take care of you. Here, Ruth, help me. Whatever is the
matter with baby's dress?"
Manifestly Miss Longstreth had some difficulty in subduing her
emotion.
"Why, it's on hind side before," declared Ruth. "I guess Mr.
Ranger hasn't dressed many babies."
"He did the best he could," said Mrs. Laramie. "Lord only knows
what would have become of us!"
"Then he is--is something more than a ranger?" queried Miss
Longstreth, with a little break in her voice.
"He's more than I can tell," replied Mrs. Laramie. "He buried
Jim. He paid our debts. He fetched us here. He bought food for
us. He cooked for us and fed us. He washed and dressed the
baby. He sat with me the first two nights after Jim's death,
when I thought I'd die myself. He's so kind, so gentle, so
patient. He has kept me up just by being near. Sometimes I'd
wake from a doze, an', seeing him there, I'd know how false
were all these tales Jim heard about him and believed at first.
Why, he plays with the children just--just like any good man
might. When he has the baby up I just can't believe he's a
bloody gunman, as they say. He's good, but he isn't happy. He
has such sad eyes. He looks far off sometimes when the children
climb round him. They love him. His life is sad. Nobody need
tell me--he sees the good in things. Once he said somebody had
to be a ranger. Well, I say, 'Thank God for a ranger like him!'
"
Duane did not want to hear more, so he walked into the room.
"It was thoughtful of you," Duane said. "Womankind are needed
here. I could do so little. Mrs. Laramie, you look better
already. I'm glad. And here's baby, all clean and white. Baby,
what a time I had trying to puzzle out the way your clothes
went on! Well, Mrs. Laramie, didn't I tell you--friends would
come? So will the brighter side."
"Yes, I've more faith than I had," replied Mrs. Laramie.
"Granger Longstreth's daughter has come to me. There for a
while after Jim's death I thought I'd sink. We have nothing.
How could I ever take care of my little ones? But I'm gaining
courage to--"
"Mrs. Laramie, do not distress yourself any more," said Miss
Longstreth. "I shall see you are well cared for. I promise
you."
"Miss Longstreth, that's fine!" exclaimed Duane. "It's what I'd
have--expected of you."
It must have been sweet praise to her, for the whiteness of her
face burned out in a beautiful blush.
"And it's good of you, too, Miss Herbert, to come," added
Duane. "Let me thank you both. I'm glad I have you girls as
allies in part of my lonely task here. More than glad for the
sake of this good woman and the little ones. But both of you be
careful about coming here alone. There's risk. And now I'll be
going. Good-by, Mrs. Laramie. I'll drop in again to-night.
Longstreth, her voice now deep and rich with feeling. "After a
moment's thought no one will be influenced by them. Do not
worry, Floyd. Tell papa not to worry. Surely after all these
years he can't be injured in reputation by--by an adventurer."
"Yes, he can be injured," replied Floyd, quickly. "The frontier
is a queer place. There are many bitter men here--men who have
failed at ranching. And your father has been wonderfully
successful. The ranger has dropped poison, and it'll spread."
CHAPTER XVIII
Strangers rode into Fairdale; and other hard-looking customers,
new to Duane if not to Fairdale, helped to create a charged and
waiting atmosphere. The saloons did unusual business and were
never closed. Respectable citizens of the town were awakened in
the early dawn by rowdies carousing in the streets.
Duane kept pretty close under cover during the day. He did not
entertain the opinion that the first time he walked down-street
he would be a target for guns. Things seldom happened that way;
and when they did happen so, it was more accident than design.
But at night he was not idle. He met Laramie, Morton, Zimmer,
and others of like character; a secret club had been formed;
and all the members were ready for action. Duane spent hours at
night watching the house where Floyd Lawson stayed when he was
not up at Longstreth's. At night he was visited, or at least
the house was, by strange men who were swift, stealthy,
mysterious--all that kindly disposed friends or neighbors would
not have been. Duane had not been able to recognize any of
these night visitors; and he did not think the time was ripe
for a bold holding-up of one of them. Nevertheless, he was sure
such an event would discover Lawson, or some one in that house,
to be in touch with crooked men.
Laramie was right. Not twenty-four hours after his last talk
with Duane, in which he advised quick action, he was found
behind the little bar of his restaurant with a bullet-hole in
his breast, dead. No one could be found who had heard a shot.
It had been deliberate murder, for upon the bar had been left
a piece of paper rudely scrawled with a pencil: "All friends of
rangers look for the same."
This roused Duane. His first move, however, was to bury
Laramie. None of Laramie's neighbors evinced any interest in
the dead man or the unfortunate family he had left. Duane saw
that these neighbors were held in check by fear. Mrs. Laramie
was ill; the shock of her husband's death was hard on her; and
she had been left almost destitute with five children. Duane
rented a small adobe house on the outskirts of town and moved
the family into it. Then he played the part of provider and
nurse and friend.
After several days Duane went boldly into town and showed that
he meant business. It was his opinion that there were men in
Fairdale secretly glad of a ranger's presence. What he intended
to do was food for great speculation. A company of militia
could not have had the effect upon the wild element of Fairdale
that Duane's presence had. It got out that he was a gunman
lightning swift on the draw. It was death to face him. He had
killed thirty men--wildest rumor of all. lt was actually said
of him he had the gun-skill of Buck Duane or of Poggin.
At first there had not only been great conjecture among the
vicious element, but also a very decided checking of all kinds
of action calculated to be conspicuous to a keen-eyed ranger.
At the tables, at the bars and lounging-places Duane heard the
remarks: "Who's thet ranger after? What'll he do fust off? Is
he waitin' fer somebody? Who's goin' to draw on him fust--an'
go to hell? Jest about how soon will he be found somewheres
full of lead?"
When it came out somewhere that Duane was openly cultivating
the honest stay-at-home citizens to array them in time against
the other element, then Fairdale showed its wolf-teeth. Several
times Duane was shot at in the dark and once slightly injured.
Rumor had it that Poggin, the gunman, was coming to meet him.
But the lawless element did not rise up in a mass to slay Duane
on sight. It was not so much that the enemies of the law
awaited his next move, but just a slowness peculiar to the
frontier. The ranger was in their midst. He was interesting, if
formidable. He would have been welcomed at card-tables, at the
bars, to play and drink with the men who knew they were under
suspicion. There was a rude kind of good humor even in their
open hostility.
Besides, one ranger or a company of rangers could not have held
the undivided attention of these men from their games and
drinks and quarrels except by some decided move. Excitement,
greed, appetite were rife in them. Duane marked, however, a
striking exception to the usual run of strangers he had been in
the habit of seeing. Snecker had gone or was under cover. Again
Duane caught a vague rumor of the coming of Poggin, yet he
never seemed to arrive. Moreover, the goings-on among the
habitues of the resorts and the cowboys who came in to drink
and gamble were unusually mild in comparison with former
conduct. This lull, however, did not deceive Duane. It could
not last. The wonder was that it had lasted so long.
Duane went often to see Mrs. Laramie and her children. One
afternoon while he was there he saw Miss Longstreth and Ruth
ride up to the door. They carried a basket. Evidently they had
heard of Mrs. Laramie's trouble. Duane felt strangely glad, but
he went into an adjoining room rather than meet them.
"Mrs. Laramie, I've come to see you," said Miss Longstreth,
cheerfully.
The little room was not very light, there being only one window
and the doors, but Duane could see plainly enough. Mrs. Laramie
lay, hollow-checked and haggard, on a bed. Once she had
evidently been a woman of some comeliness. The ravages of
trouble and grief were there to read in her worn face; it had
not, however, any of the hard and bitter lines that had
characterized her husband's.
Duane wondered, considering that Longstreth had ruined Laramie,
how Mrs. Laramie was going to regard the daughter of an enemy.
"So you're Granger Longstreth's girl?" queried the woman, with
her bright, black eyes fixed on her visitor.
"Yes," replied Miss Longstreth, simply. "This is my cousin,
Ruth Herbert. We've come to nurse you, take care of the
children, help you in any way you'll let us."
There was a long silence.
"Well, you look a little like Longstreth," finally said Mrs.
Laramie, "but you're not at ALL like him. You must take after
your mother. Miss Longstreth, I don't know if I can--if I ought
accept anything from you. Your father ruined my husband."
"Yes, I know," replied the girl, sadly. "That's all the more
reason you should let me help you. Pray don't refuse. It will--
mean so much to me."
If this poor, stricken woman had any resentment it speedily
melted in the warmth and sweetness of Miss Longstreth's manner.
Duane's idea was that the impression of Ray Longstreth's beauty
was always swiftly succeeded by that of her generosity and
nobility. At any rate, she had started well with Mrs. Laramie,
and no sooner had she begun to talk to the children than both
they and the mother were won. The opening of that big basket
was an event. Poor, starved little beggars! Duane's feelings
seemed too easily roused. Hard indeed would it have gone with
Jim Laramie's slayer if he could have laid eyes on him then.
However, Miss Longstreth and Ruth, after the nature of tender
and practical girls, did not appear to take the sad situation
to heart. The havoc was wrought in that household.
The needs now were cheerfulness, kindness, help, action--and
these the girls furnished with a spirit that did Duane good.
"Mrs. Laramie, who dressed this baby?" presently asked Miss
Longstreth. Duane peeped in to see a dilapidated youngster on
her knee. That sight, if any other was needed, completed his
full and splendid estimate of Ray Longstreth and wrought
strangely upon his heart.
"The ranger," replied Mrs. Laramie.
"The ranger!" exclaimed Miss Longstreth.
"Yes, he's taken care of us all since--since--" Mrs. Laramie
choked.
"Oh! So you've had no help but his," replied Miss Longstreth,
hastily. "No women. Too bad! I'll send some one, Mrs. Laramie,
and I'll come myself."
"It'll be good of you," went on the older woman. "You see, Jim
had few friends--that is, right in town. And they've been
afraid to help us--afraid they'd get what poor Jim--"
"That's awful!" burst out Miss Longstreth, passionately. "A
brave lot of friends! Mrs. Laramie, don't you worry any more.
We'll take care of you. Here, Ruth, help me. Whatever is the
matter with baby's dress?"
Manifestly Miss Longstreth had some difficulty in subduing her
emotion.
"Why, it's on hind side before," declared Ruth. "I guess Mr.
Ranger hasn't dressed many babies."
"He did the best he could," said Mrs. Laramie. "Lord only knows
what would have become of us!"
"Then he is--is something more than a ranger?" queried Miss
Longstreth, with a little break in her voice.
"He's more than I can tell," replied Mrs. Laramie. "He buried
Jim. He paid our debts. He fetched us here. He bought food for
us. He cooked for us and fed us. He washed and dressed the
baby. He sat with me the first two nights after Jim's death,
when I thought I'd die myself. He's so kind, so gentle, so
patient. He has kept me up just by being near. Sometimes I'd
wake from a doze, an', seeing him there, I'd know how false
were all these tales Jim heard about him and believed at first.
Why, he plays with the children just--just like any good man
might. When he has the baby up I just can't believe he's a
bloody gunman, as they say. He's good, but he isn't happy. He
has such sad eyes. He looks far off sometimes when the children
climb round him. They love him. His life is sad. Nobody need
tell me--he sees the good in things. Once he said somebody had
to be a ranger. Well, I say, 'Thank God for a ranger like him!'
"
Duane did not want to hear more, so he walked into the room.
"It was thoughtful of you," Duane said. "Womankind are needed
here. I could do so little. Mrs. Laramie, you look better
already. I'm glad. And here's baby, all clean and white. Baby,
what a time I had trying to puzzle out the way your clothes
went on! Well, Mrs. Laramie, didn't I tell you--friends would
come? So will the brighter side."
"Yes, I've more faith than I had," replied Mrs. Laramie.
"Granger Longstreth's daughter has come to me. There for a
while after Jim's death I thought I'd sink. We have nothing.
How could I ever take care of my little ones? But I'm gaining
courage to--"
"Mrs. Laramie, do not distress yourself any more," said Miss
Longstreth. "I shall see you are well cared for. I promise
you."
"Miss Longstreth, that's fine!" exclaimed Duane. "It's what I'd
have--expected of you."
It must have been sweet praise to her, for the whiteness of her
face burned out in a beautiful blush.
"And it's good of you, too, Miss Herbert, to come," added
Duane. "Let me thank you both. I'm glad I have you girls as
allies in part of my lonely task here. More than glad for the
sake of this good woman and the little ones. But both of you be
careful about coming here alone. There's risk. And now I'll be
going. Good-by, Mrs. Laramie. I'll drop in again to-night.
- poison [´pɔizən]
n.毒物 v.毒害 a.有毒的 (初中英语单词) - atmosphere [´ætməsfiə] n.大气；空气；气氛 (初中英语单词)
- unusual [ʌn´ju:ʒuəl] a.不平常的；异常的 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- nevertheless [,nevəðə´les] conj.&ad.然而；不过 (初中英语单词)
- restaurant [´restərɔnt] n.饭店，菜馆 (初中英语单词)
- unfortunate [ʌn´fɔ:tʃunit] a.不幸的，运气差的 (初中英语单词)
- actually [´æktʃuəli] ad.事实上；实际上 (初中英语单词)
- slightly [´slaitli] ad.轻微地；细长的 (初中英语单词)
- peculiar [pi´kju:liə] a.特有的；奇异的 (初中英语单词)
- appetite [´æpitait] n.欲望；食欲 (初中英语单词)
- exception [ik´sepʃən] n.例外；反对，异议 (初中英语单词)
- moreover [mɔ:´rəuvə] ad.再者，此外，而且 (初中英语单词)
- comparison [kəm´pærisən] n.比较；对照；比喻 (初中英语单词)
- deceive [di´si:v] vt.欺骗，欺诈 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- strangely [´streindʒli] ad.奇怪地；陌生地 (初中英语单词)
- plainly [´pleinli] ad.平坦地；简单地 (初中英语单词)
- warmth [wɔ:mθ] n.温暖；热情；激动 (初中英语单词)
- impression [im´preʃən] n.印刷；印象；效果 (初中英语单词)
- swiftly [´swiftli] ad.迅速地，敏捷地 (初中英语单词)
- opening [´əupəniŋ] n.开放；开端 a.开始的 (初中英语单词)
- wrought [rɔ:t] work 的过去式(分词) (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- youngster [´jʌŋstə] n.年轻人；小伙子；少年 (初中英语单词)
- estimate [´estimət, ´estimeit] n.估计；评价 vt.估价 (初中英语单词)
- whatever [wɔt´evə] pron.&a.无论什么 (初中英语单词)
- puzzle [´pʌzl] n.迷(惑) v.(使)迷惑 (初中英语单词)
- distress [di´stres] n.痛苦 vt.使苦恼 (初中英语单词)
- lonely [´ləunli] a.孤独的；无人烟的 (初中英语单词)
- respectable [ri´spektəbəl] a.可敬的；有身价的 (高中英语单词)
- crooked [´krukid] a.弯曲的；畸形的 (高中英语单词)
- deliberate [di´libəreit] a.慎重的；故意的 (高中英语单词)
- boldly [´bəuldli] ad.大胆地；醒目地 (高中英语单词)
- secretly [´si:kritli] ad.秘密地；隐蔽地 (高中英语单词)
- speculation [,spekju´leiʃən] n.思索，推测；投机 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- conspicuous [kən´spikjuəs] a.显著的；出众的 (高中英语单词)
- openly [´əupənli] ad.公开地；直率地 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- gamble [´gæmbəl] v.&n.赌博；投机；冒险 (高中英语单词)
- stricken [´strikən] strike的过去分词 (高中英语单词)
- resentment [ri´zentmənt] n.不满；怨恨；忿恨 (高中英语单词)
- sweetness [´swi:tnis] n.甜蜜；芳香；亲切 (高中英语单词)
- generosity [,dʒenə´rɔsiti] n.慷慨；慷慨的行为 (高中英语单词)
- thoughtful [´θɔ:tfəl] a.深思的；体贴的 (高中英语单词)
- reputation [repju´teiʃən] n.名誉；名声；信誉 (英语四级单词)
- conjecture [kən´dʒektʃə] n.&v.猜测(想)；设想 (英语四级单词)
- lawless [´lɔ:ləs] a.无法无天的 (英语四级单词)
- unusually [ʌn´ju:ʒuəli] ad.异常地；非常 (英语四级单词)
- haggard [´hægəd] a.憔悴的 (英语四级单词)
- considering [kən´sidəriŋ] prep.就...而论 (英语四级单词)
- passionately [´pæʃənitli] ad.多情地；热烈地 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- rudely [´ru:dli] ad.粗鲁地；粗略地 (英语六级单词)
- destitute [´destitju:t] a.贫穷的；缺乏...的 (英语六级单词)
- outskirts [´autskə:ts] n.外边；郊区 (英语六级单词)
- cheerfulness [´tʃiəfulnis] n.高兴，愉快 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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