He did not think it necessary to tell her that he had caught the cowboys
of a big syndicate in the act of running a bunch of VN steers out of the
country under the pretense of a general round-up, or that he had gone
directly to the headquarters of the outfit with a rather peremptory
request that they buy the rest of the cattle together with the brand, a
suggestion that the guilty parties found it advisable to accept in view
of the direct evidence with which he confronted them of not only this,
but several other shady transactions of a similar nature. Nor was she
aware, until several days later, that in the course of a slight argument
which he had indulged in with one of the syndicate's men, whom he had
caught red-handed in the act of branding a VN calf whose mother lay in a
nearby gully with a bullet hole in her head, he had resorted to a little
"six-gun suasion" with the result that the other fellow was in the
hospital at Leadville, while Douglass nursed an ugly flesh wound in his
shoulder. The syndicate, composed largely of eastern men who for obvious
reasons could not afford to have their acts unduly ventilated, were very
glad to close with his rather excessive demands, backed as they were by
the smoothest-working gun and handiest shot on the range.
She made the discovery In a rather unexpected way. They were out riding
together one pleasant afternoon, and seduced by the magnificent going
and delightful weather had prolonged their pasear into the twilight
hours. On the return canter, Douglass's horse, affrightened by a
viciously whirring rattlesnake on which it narrowly escaped treading,
began to "pitch" violently and for a few minutes Constance was treated
to an exhibition of superb horsemanship which made her blood tingle. It
was an unusually severe and long-sustained struggle between horse and
rider, but the man conquered as a matter of course and the rest of the
journey was without incident.
She had acquired the knack of dismounting by placing one hand on his
left shoulder; in doing so, this evening, her bare hand encountered
something wet and sticky. At that moment the door opened and a flood of
light from the living-room illuminated them sharply. Looking curiously
at her wet hand Constance caught her breath with a gasp.
"It is blood!" she cried in horror. "You are hurt!"
Despite his muttered assurance that it was nothing to be alarmed about
she drew him into the living-room, where she became almost hysterical at
the black-red blotch on his thin tan-colored silk shirt. Almost before
he suspected what she was about she had unknotted the kerchief from
around his throat and hastily bared his shoulder. In the violent
plunging of the horse the clumsily-fixed bandage had become displaced,
the wound had reopened and was bleeding freely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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