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Raw Gold

Chapter 7 THIRTY DAYS IN IRONS!

Word Count: 2903    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

the corner of a rambling log house, which, from its pretentiousness, I judged must house some Mounted Police dignitary, we came face to face with a tall

ndulge in guesswork, though. While I wondered, for an instant, if there could by any possibility be another woman on God's footstool with quite the same tilt to her head, the sam

e had been on the point of asking him what he was doing in the yellow-striped breeches and scarlet jacket of a Mounted Policeman. Whatever had parted them, she hadn't held it agains

to beat him over the noodle with my gun and thereby knock a little of the stiffness out of his neck-simply saluted the officer, tipped his hat to her, and passed on. I didn't sabe

acRae was a peculiar one. It was simply a vagrant expression, but as it flitted over his face it lacked nothing in the way of surprised disapproval; I mi

e're both a long way from the home range. I was here a day or two a

y Thomas, don't you?-came over from Benton with the Baker

bunch of cottonwoods with the new-made grave close by the dead horses seemed to rise up between us, and I became speechless. I hadn't the nerve to stand there and tell her she'd never see her father again this side of the pearly gates. Not I. That

ard me curiously. I gathered my scattered wits and started to make some at

aving one's face slapped, and it didn't pass over Lyn's head by any means. I thought to myself that if he had set o

aid. "Are you going to be her

that bad news simmering in my brain-pan, and in addition I had conceived

one. Don't forget, now-I have a thousand things I want to talk about. Goo

urposely, and I overt

known him, "you're a high-headed cuss, confound you! Is it a part of your new ph

ers tolerantly. "What

" I sputtered. "That's your privilege. But I don't see how you had the n

n steps before

arns what has happened. Hank never had anything much to do with his people. I doubt if Lyn has even a speaking acquaintance with her nearest kin. She has friends in the South-plenty of them who'd be more than gl

and see her, and tell her abou

quarantined smallpox patient, and a 'non-com' like myself is barred out, until I win a pair of shoulder-straps; when my rank would make me socially possible. Meantime, I'm a sergeant, and if Lyn went to picking friends out of the ranks, I'm not sure they

Where is the profit or satisfaction in this kind of thing, for you? Will the man in the ranks get credit for tami

sneak out of a thing I went into deliberately; or, if they were minded to allow me, I could buy my discharge-and I haven't the price. Besides, I like the game and I don't know that I want to quit it. The life isn't so bad. It's your rabidly independent point of view. A man that can't obey ord

ute, and, anyway, I was not in the mood for that sort of argument. But I was very sure that

big gun here, is he?" I rev

red shortly, "th

Bat Perkins appeared in the doorway, both hands thrust deep in his trousers pockets and a pipe sagging down one corner of his wide m

woman t' turn herself loose on the beefsteak an' spuds, for

an blood in her, could certainly qualify as the patron saint of hungry men. Good cooks were a scar

ourselves to the seat of the mighty, to unload our troubles on the men who directed the

ore we faced the man of rank, who, after taking our measure

to another room the erect figure of Major Lessard listening intently, a black frown on his eagle face. When MacRae had finished his story and the incapable blockhead behind the des

ptain Dobson," he brusquely i

on MacRae with a battery of questions. Could he give a description of the men? Would he be able to identify them? Why did he not exercise more precaution when investigating any

presence, and answering the catechism, of a superior officer, and his superior officer by virtue of a commission from the Canadian government could insult his manhood and lash him unmercifully with a viperish tongue, and if he dared to resent it by word or deed there was the guardhouse and the shame of

and dollars; another man is murdered under your very nose-and then you waste thirty-six hours blundering around the country to satisfy your infernal curiosit

leaving his face white under the tan. His left hand was at its old, familiar trick-fingers shut tight over the thumb till the cords stood tense between the knuckles and wrist-a never-fai

m applied to Lessard was one to make a man's ears burn; it was the range-riders' gauntlet thrown squarely in an enemy's fac

m if he made a crooked move. MacRae leaned forward, his gray eyes twin coals, the thumb of his right hand hooked suggestively in the cartridge-belt, close by t

e desk corner. Then Lessard, without moving a mus

derly," he s

tle bell on the desk and the orde

isarm Serge

ith hostile intent would mean a smoking gun. MacRae would have shot him dead in his tracks if he'd tried to reach a weapon. But a man who is really game-which no one who knew him could d

truth be told (I think he must have liste

-arms, sergeant,"

rong way it's altogether likely that I'd have felt called upon to back his play, and there would have been a horrible mix-up in that two by f

s-solitary confinement!" Lessard snapped

bent on the floor, "and don't quit the country till I get out." T

end of the desk, industriously paring his fingernai

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