Cowmen and Rustlers: A Story of the Wyoming Cattle Ranges by Edward Sylvester Ellis (books suggested by bill gates TXT) 📕

Enough has been already told for the reader to understand the scheme which Jennie Whitney, with the help of her mother, attempted to carry out for the benefit of the besieged cattlemen.

With her cloak around her shoulders and her saddle supported on one arm, she passed quickly from the rear of her home to the stables, only a short distance away. She had been on the alert for the signal of Duke Vesey, and, seeing it not, was prepared to encounter some one else.

In this she was not disappointed, for at the moment of catching sight of the dark mass where the horses were sheltered the figure of a man loomed into view as though he had risen from the ground. She stopped short, and observed, dimly, the forms of two others just behind him.

"Halloo!" exclaimed the nearest, "how is this?"

With peculiar emotions the young lady recognized the voice of Larch Cadmus. She hoped this was a favourable omen, and was quick to turn it to account.

"Larch, is that you?" she asked, peering forward as if uncertain of his identity.

"I declare, it is Miss Jennie!" he exclaimed, coming forward; "how is it you are alone?"

"Mother did not wish to come with me," replied the daughter, trying to avoid the necessity of direct deceit. "She will probably leave the house pretty soon."

The fellow was plainly embarrassed, despite the protecting gloom which concealed his features. Jennie knew him to be one of her most ardent admirers, though she had never liked him. Her hopes were now based upon making use of his regard for her.

"You have come out, Jennie, I suppose," said he, offering his hand, which she accepted, "so as not to be in the house when the—ah, trouble begins."

"O, I know it will be dreadful; I want to go as far away as I can—do you blame me, Larch?"

"Not at all—not at all; and I hope, Jennie, you don't blame me for all that your folks have suffered."

"Why, Larch, why should I blame you?" asked the young lady, coming fearfully near a fiction in making the query, for she knew many good reasons for censuring him in her heart. "But how soon do you intend—that is, how soon do the rest of your folks intend to attack the cowmen?"

"We—that is, they—expected to do so long ago, but there have been all sorts of delays; it will come pretty soon now."

"Where are you to place mother and me?"

"Over the ridge, yonder; you will be out of danger; you need fear nothing; why should you, for your mother will be with you and your brother will be with us, so that he can take no part in the fight."

He made no reference to Mont Sterry, and she was too wise to let fall a hint of her anxiety concerning him.

"But, Larch, suppose, when you set fire to the house, as I heard your folks intended, our people rush out and attack you?"

"Do they intend to do that?" he asked.

"I am sure I don't know; but you can see, if they do, the shooting will be going on all around mother and me."

"You can pass farther out on the plain or take shelter in the stable, among the horses."

"But that may be too late," interposed Jennie, in well-feigned alarm.

"You can take refuge here now."

"I can't bear to stay in the stable, for the horses will become terrified when the shooting begins; they may break loose and prove more dangerous than the flying bullets."

There was sense in this objection, and the rustler saw it. He was anxious to propitiate the young woman, whom he admired so ardently.

"Well, my dear, what would you like to do?"

"Now, Larch, you won't laugh at me if I tell you," she replied, in her most coquettish manner.