He wore a loose tailor-made
suit of brown stuff and a broad-brimmed light-gray Stetson. For
the rest, you may see a hundred like him at the yearly stock
convention held in Denver, but you will never meet a man even
among them with a sounder heart or better disposition.
"I've got a story to tell you, Lieutenant O'Connor," he began.
"I've been meaning to see you and tell it ever since you made
good in that Fernendez matter. It wasn't your gameness. Anybody
can be game. But it looked to me like you were using the brains
in the top of your head, and that happens so seldom among law
officers I wanted to have a talk with you. Since yesterday I've
been more anxious. For why? I got a letter from my brother
telling me Sheriff Collins showed him a locket he found at the
place of the T. P. Limited hold-up. That locket has in it a
photograph of my wife and little girl. For fifteen years I
haven't seen that picture. When I saw it last 'twas round my
little baby's neck. What's more, I haven't seen her in that time,
either."
Mackenzie stopped, swallowed hard, and took a drink of water.
"You haven't seen your little girl in fifteen years," exclaimed
Bucky.
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