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Raine, William MacLeod, 1871-1954

"Bucky O'Connor"

I want you to be really earnest."
"I never was more earnest in my life, Curly."
"Please, Bucky? It isn't easy to say it, and you mustn't make it
harder."
"Do you have to say it, pardner?" he asked, more seriously.
"Yes, I have to say it." And swiftly she blurted it out. "Why do
you suppose I came with you to Mexico?"
"I don't know." He grappled with her suggestion for a moment. "I
suppose--you said it was because you were afraid of Hardman."
"Well, I wasn't. At least, I wasn't afraid that much. I knew that
I would have been quite safe next time with the Mackenzies at the
ranch."
"Then why was it?"
"You can't think of any reason?" She leaned forward and looked
directly into his eyes--eyes as honest and as blue as an Arizona
sky.
But he stood unconvicted--nay, acquitted. The one reason she had
dreaded he might offer to himself had evidently never entered his
head. Whatever guesses he might have made on the subject, he was
plainly guiltless of thinking she might have come with him
because she was in love with him.
"No, I can't think of any other reason, if the one you gave isn't
the right one.


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