The Lone Star Ranger: A Romance of the BorderGrey, Zane
General
The Lone Star Ranger: A Romance of the Border
Grey, Zane
Mexican-American Border Region -- Fiction; Western stories
Longstreth stood perhaps ten feet from the table where his gun lay Duane
saw him calculating chances. He was game. He had the courage that forced
Duane to respect him. Duane just saw him measure the distance to that
gun. He was magnificent. He meant to do it. Duane would have to kill
him.
“Longstreth, listen,” cried Duane, swiftly. “The game's up. You're done.
But think of your daughter! I'll spare your life--I'll try to get you
freedom on one condition. For her sake! I've got you nailed--all the
proofs. There lies Lawson. You're alone. I've Morton and men to my aid.
Give up. Surrender. Consent to demands, and I'll spare you. Maybe I can
persuade MacNelly to let you go free back to your old country. It's for
Ray's sake! Her life, perhaps her happiness, can be saved! Hurry, man!
Your answer!”
“Suppose I refuse?” he queried, with a dark and terrible earnestness.
“Then I'll kill you in your tracks! You can't move a hand! Your word or
death! Hurry, Longstreth! Be a man! For her sake! Quick! Another second
now--I'll kill you!”
“All right, Buck Duane, I give my word,” he said, and deliberately
walked to the chair and fell into it.
Longstreth looked strangely at the bloody blot on Duane's shoulder.
“There come the girls!” he suddenly exclaimed. “Can you help me drag
Lawson inside? They mustn't see him.”
Duane was facing down the porch toward the court and corrals. Miss
Longstreth and Ruth had come in sight, were swiftly approaching,
evidently alarmed. The two men succeeded in drawing Lawson into the
house before the girls saw him.
“Duane, you're not hard hit?” said Longstreth.
“Reckon not,” replied Duane.
“I'm sorry. If only you could have told me sooner! Lawson, damn him!
Always I've split over him!”
“But the last time, Longstreth.”
“Yes, and I came near driving you to kill me, too. Duane, you talked
me out of it. For Ray's sake! She'll be in here in a minute. This'll be
harder than facing a gun.”
“Hard now. But I hope it'll turn out all right.”
“Duane, will you do me a favor?” he asked, and he seemed shamefaced.
“Sure.”
“Let Ray and Ruth think Lawson shot you. He's dead. It can't matter.
Duane, the old side of my life is coming back. It's been coming. It'll
be here just about when she enters this room. And, by God, I'd change
places with Lawson if I could!”
“Glad you--said that, Longstreth,” replied Duane. “And sure--Lawson
plugged me. It's our secret.”
Just then Ray and Ruth entered the room. Duane heard two low cries, so
different in tone, and he saw two white faces. Ray came to his side, She
lifted a shaking hand to point at the blood upon his breast. White and
mute, she gazed from that to her father.
“Papa!” cried Ray, wringing her hands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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