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Raine, William MacLeod, 1871-1954

"Bucky O'Connor"


"I didn't know I was so terrible. I don't think yon ever had any
awe of anybody, Mr. Leroy." Her soft cheek flushed in unexpected
memory of that moment when he had brushed aside all her maiden
reserves and ravished mad kisses from her. "And Mr. Collins is
big enough to take care of himself," she added hastily, to banish
the unwelcome recollection.
Collins, with his eyes on the light-shot waves that crowned her
vivid face, wondered whether he was or not. If she had been a
woman to desire in the queenly, half-insolent indifference of
manner with which she had first met him, how much more of charm
lay in this piquant gaiety, in the warm sweetness of her softer
and more pliant mood! It seemed to him she had the gift of
comradeship to perfection.
They unsaddled and ate lunch in the shade of the live-oaks at El
Dorado Springs, which used to be a much-frequented watering-hole
in the days when Camp Grant thrived and mule-skinners freighted
supplies in to feed Uncle Sam's pets. Two hours later they
stopped again at the edge of the Santa Cruz wash, two miles from
the Rocking Chair Ranch.
It was while they were resaddling that Collins caught sight of a
cloud of dust a mile or two away.


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