The Heart of the Range
Project Gutenberg's The Heart of the Range, by William Patterson
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Title: The Heart of the Range
Author: William Patterson White
Release Date: December 16, 2003 [EBook #10473]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
HEART OF THE RANGE ***
Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, Josephine Paolucci and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
[Illustration: "They picked up our trail somehow ... they're about three
miles back on the flat just a-burnin' the ground"]
THE HEART OF THE RANGE
BY WILLIAM PATTERSON WHITE
AUTHOR OF
"_The Rider of Golden Bar_," "_Hidden Trails_," "_Lynch Lawyers_,"
"_The Owner of the Lazy D_," "_Paradise Bend_," etc.
1921
TO RANGER
A GOOD HORSE AND A BETTER FRIEND
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE HORSE THIEF
II. THE YELLOW DOG
III. THE TALL STRANGER
IV. THE OLD LADY
V. McFLUKE's
VI. CHANGE OF PLAN
VII. THE RIDDLE
VIII. THE STARLIGHT
IX. THROWING SAND
X. THE BACK PORCH
XI. THE LOOKOUT
XII. THE DISCOVERY
XIII. A BOLD BAD MAN
XIV. THE SURPRISE
XV. FIRE! FIRE!
XVI. THE BAR S
XVII. SIGNED PAPER
XVIII. THE SHOWDOWN
XIX. THE SHOOTING
XX. DRAWING THE COVER
XXI. GONE AWAY
XXII. A CHECK
XXIII. TAKING FENCES
XXIV. DIPLOMACY
XXV. STRATEGY
XXVI. THE QUARREL
XXVII. BURGLARY
XXVIII. THE LETTERS
XXIX. HUE AND CRY
XXX. THE REGISTER
XXXI. THE LAST TRICK
XXXII. THE END OF THE TRAIL
THE HEART OF THE RANGE
CHAPTER I
THE HORSE THIEF
It was a warm summer morning in the town of Farewell. Save a dozen
horses tied to the hitching-rail in front of various saloons and the Blue
Pigeon Store and Bill Lainey, the fat landlord of the hotel, who sat
snoring in a reinforced telegraph chair on the sidewalk in the shade of
his wooden awning, Main Street was a howling wilderness.
Dust overlay everything. It had not rained in weeks. In the blacksmith
shop, diagonally across the street from the hotel, Piney Jackson was
shoeing a mule. The mule was invisible, but one knew it was a mule
because Piney Jackson has just come out and taken a two-by-four from
the woodpile behind the shop. And it was a well-known fact that Piney
never used a two-by-four on any animal other than a mule. But this by
the way.
In the barroom of the Happy Heart Saloon there were only two
customers and the bartender. One of the former, a brown-haired,
sunburnt young man with ingenuous blue eyes, was singing:
"_Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, An' merrily jump the stile O! Yore
cheerful heart goes all the day, Yore sad tires in a mile O_!"
Mr. Racey Dawson, having successfully sung the first verse, rested
both elbows on the bar and grinned at the bartender. That worthy
grinned back, and, knowing Mr. Dawson, slid the bottle along the bar.
"Have one yoreself, Bill," Mr. Dawson nodded to the bartender.
"Whu--where's Swing? Oh, yeah."
Mr. Dawson, head up, chest out, stepping high, and walking very stiffly
as befitted a gentleman somewhat over-served with liquor, crossed the
barroom to where bristle-haired Swing Tunstall sat on a chair and
slumbered, his head on his arms and his arms on a table.
Mr. Dawson stooped and blew into Mr. Tunstall's right ear. Mr.
Tunstall began to snore gently. Growing irritated by this continued
indifference on the part of Mr. Tunstall, Mr. Dawson seized the chair
by rung and back and incontinently dumped Mr. Tunstall all abroad on
the saloon floor.
Mr. Tunstall promptly hitched himself into a corner and drifted deeper
into slumber.
Mr. Dawson turned a perplexed face on the bartender.
"Now what you gonna do with a feller like that?" Mr. Dawson asked,
plaintively.
Mr. Jack Richie, manager of the Cross-in-a-box ranch, entering at the
moment, temporarily diverted Mr. Dawson's attention. For Mr. Dawson
had once ridden for the Cross-in-a-box outfit. Hence he was moved
literally to fall upon the neck of Mr. Richie.
"Lean on yore own breakfast," urged Mr. Richie, studiously
dissembling his joy at sight of his old friend, and carefully steering Mr.
Dawson against the bar. "Here, I know what you need. Drink hearty,
Racey."
"'S'on me," declared Mr. Dawson. "Everythin's on me. I gug-got money,
I have, and I aim to spend it free an' plenty, 'cause there's more where
I'm goin'. An' I ain't gonna earn it punchin' cows, neither."
"Don't do anything rash," Mr. Richie advised, and took advantage of a
friend's privilege to be insulting. "I helped lynch a
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