“You said you'd do it--I know what you've done--you--” she looked as if
she would fly at his throat, and Dave, amazed, shrank back a step.
“Go home, I tell ye--Uncle Judd's shot. Git on the hoss!”
“No, no, NO! I wouldn't TOUCH anything that was yours”--she put her
hands to her head as though she were crazed, and then she turned and
broke into a swift run up the road.
Panting, June reached the gate. The front door was closed and there she
gave a tremulous cry for Bub. The door opened a few inches and through
it Bub shouted for her to come on. The back door, too, was closed, and
not a ray of daylight entered the room except at the port-hole where
Bub, with a Winchester, had been standing on guard. By the light of the
fire she saw her father's giant frame stretched out on the bed and she
heard his laboured breathing. Swiftly she went to the bed and dropped on
her knees beside it.
“Dad!” she said. The old man's eyes opened and turned heavily toward
her.
“All right, Juny. They shot me from the laurel and they might nigh got
Bub. I reckon they've got me this time.”
“No--no!” He saw her eyes fixed on the matted blood on his chest.
“Hit's stopped. I'm afeared hit's bleedin' inside.” His voice had
dropped to a whisper and his eyes closed again. There was another
cautious “Hello” outside, and when Bub again opened the door Dave ran
swiftly within. He paid no attention to June.
“I follered June back an' left my hoss in the bushes. There was three of
'em.” He showed Bub a bullet hole through one sleeve and then he turned
half contemptuously to June:
“I hain't done it”--adding grimly--“not yit. He's as safe as you air. I
hope you're satisfied that hit hain't him 'stid o' yo' daddy thar.”
“Are you going to the Gap for a doctor?”
“I reckon I can't leave Bub here alone agin all the Falins--not even to
git a doctor or to carry a love-message fer you.”
“Then I'll go myself.”
A thick protest came from the bed, and then an appeal that might have
come from a child.
“Don't leave me, Juny.” Without a word June went into the kitchen and
got the old bark horn.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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