The meek have been
dispossessed."
"I'm glad I have your good wishes."
"I didn't say you had, but you'll get along just as well without
them,'' she answered with a cool little laugh as she rose.
"I'd like to discuss that proposition with you more at length.
May I call on you some evening this week, Miss Mackenzie?"
There was a sparkle of hidden malice in her answer. "You're too
late, Mr. Collins. We'll have to leave it undiscussed. I'm going
to leave to-day for my uncle s ranch, the Rocking Chair."
He was distinctly disappointed, though he took care not to show
it. Nevertheless, the town felt empty after her train had gone.
He was glad when later in the day a message came calling him to
Epitaph. It took him at least seventy-five miles nearer her.
Before he had been an hour at Epitaph the sheriff knew he had
struck gold this time. Men were in town spending money lavishly,
and at a rough description they answered to the ones he wanted.
Into the Gold Nugget Saloon that evening dropped Val Collins,
big, blond, and jaunty. He looked far less the vigorous sheriff
out for business than the gregarious cowpuncher on a search for
amusement.
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