The Sheriffs Son

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The Sheriff's Son

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Raine, Illustrated by Harold Cue
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Title: The Sheriff's Son
Author: William MacLeod Raine

Release Date: November 11, 2005 [eBook #17043]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE SHERIFF'S SON
by
WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE
Author of The Yukon Trail, Wyoming, etc.
Illustrated by Harold Cue

[Frontispiece: When Meldrum came in answer to her summons, he met
the shock of his life.]

New York Grosset & Dunlap Publishers Made in the United States of
America Copyright, 1917 and 1918, by Frank A. Munsey Company
Copyright, 1918, by William Macleod Raine All Rights Reserved
Published April 1918

TO
ROBERT H. DAVIS
WHO WITH HIS USUAL GENEROSITY TO WRITERS
MADE THE AUTHOR A PRESENT
OF THE GERM IDEA

OF THIS PLOT

Contents
Foreword I. Dingwell Gives Three Cheers. II. Dave Caches a
Gunnysack III. The Old-Timer Sits into a Big Game IV. Royal Beaudry
Hears a Call V. The Hill Girl VI. "Cherokee Street" VII. Jess Tighe
Spins a Web VIII. Beulah Asks Questions IX. The Man on the Bed X.
Dave Takes a Ride XI. Tighe Weaves his Web Tighter XII. Stark Fear
XIII. Beulah Interferes XIV. Personally Escorted XV. The Bad Man
XVI. Roy is Invited to Take a Drink XVII. Roy Improves the Shining
Hours XVIII. Rutherford Answers Questions XIX. Beaudry Blows a
Smoke Wreath XX. At the Lazy Double D XXI. Roy Rides his Paint
Hoss XXII. Miss Rutherford Speaks her Mind XXIII. In the Pit XXIV.
The Bad Man Decides not to Shoot XXV. Two and a Camp-Fire XXVI.
The Sins of the Fathers XXVII. The Quicksands XXVIII. Pat Ryan
Evens an Old Score XXIX. A New Leaf

The Sheriff's Son
Foreword
Through the mesquite a horse moved deviously, following the crooked
trail of least resistance. A man was in the saddle and in front of him a
little boy nodding with sleep. The arm of the rider cradled the
youngster against the lurches of the pony's gait.
The owner of the arm looked down at the tired little bundle it was
supporting. A wistful tenderness was in the leathery face. To the rest of
the world he was a man of iron. To this wee bit of humanity he was a
nurse, a playmate, a slave.
"We're 'most to the creek now, son. Onc't we get there, we'll throw off
and camp. You can eat a snack and tumble right off to bye-low land,"
he promised.

The five-year-old smiled faintly and snuggled closer. His long lashes
drooped again to the soft cheeks. With the innocent selfishness of a
child he accepted the love that sheltered him from all troubles.
A valley opened below the mesa, the trail falling abruptly almost from
the hoofs of the horse. Beaudry drew up and looked down. From rim to
rim the meadow was perhaps half a mile across. Seen from above, the
bed of it was like an emerald lake through which wound a ribbon of
silver. This ribbon was Big Creek. To the right it emerged from a draw
in the foothills where green reaches of forest rose tier after tier toward
the purple mountains. Far up among these peaks Big Creek had its
source in Lost Lake, which lay at the foot of a glacier near the top of
the world.
The saw-toothed range lifted its crest into a sky of violet haze. Half an
hour since the sun had set in a blaze of splendor behind a crotch of the
hills, but dusk had softened the vivid tints of orange and crimson and
scarlet to a faint pink glow. Already the mountain silhouette had lost its
sharp edge and the outlines were blurring. Soon night would sift down
over the roof of the continent.
The eyes of the man searched warily the valley below. They rested
closely on the willows by the ford, the cottonwood grove to the left,
and the big rocks beyond the creek. From its case beneath his leg he
took the sawed-off shotgun loaded with buckshot. It rested on the
pommel of the saddle while his long and careful scrutiny swept the
panorama. The spot was an ideal one for an ambush.