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Raine, William MacLeod, 1871-1954

"Bucky O'Connor"

He wheeled on his
new-found daughter. "Don't you think so, Frankie?"
Frances blushed, but answered bravely: "Yes, sir. He makes
everything right when he takes hold of it."
"Good. We're not going to let him get away from us after making
us so happy, are we, mother? This young man is going to stay
right here. We never had but one son, and we are going to treat
him as much like one as we can. Eh, mother?"
"If he will consent, Webb." She went up to the ranger and kissed
his tanned cheek. "You must pardon an old woman whom you've made
very happy."
Again Bucky's laughing blue eyes met the brown ones of his
sweetheart.
"Oh, I'll consent, all right, and I reckon, ma'am, it's mighty
good of you to treat me so white. I'll sure try to please you."
Webb thumped him on the back. "Now, you're shouting. We want you
to be one of us, young man."
Once more that happy, wireless message of eyes followed by
O'Connor's assent. "That's what I want myself, seh."
Bucky found a surprise waiting for him at the stables. A heavy
hand descended upon his shoulder. He whirled, and looked up into
the face of Sheriff Collins.


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