The Heart of the Range by William Patterson White
page 55 of 413 (13%)
page 55 of 413 (13%)
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been inspired by Racey surreptitiously and severely kicking it on
the fetlock. This he had done that Miss Dale's thoughts might be temporarily diverted from her father. Anything to keep her from shooing him away as she so plainly wished to do. Racey began to assist the now-crumpling Mr. Dale toward the house. "What's this about Luke Tweezy?" prodded Racey. "Did you see him to-day?" "Shore I seen him to-day," burbled the drunken one. "He left me at McFluke's after buyin' me the bottle and asked me to stay there till he got back. But I got tired waitin'. So I come along. I--hic--come along." Limply the man's whole weight sagged down against Racey's supporting arm, and he began to snore. "Shucks," muttered Racey, then stooping he picked up the limp body in his arms and carried it to the house. "He's asleep," he called to Miss Dale. "Where'll I put him?" "I'll show you," she said, with a break in her voice. She hastily tied the now-quiet pony to a young cottonwood growing at the corner of the house and preceded Racey into the kitchen. "Here," she said, her eyes meeting his a fleeting instant as she threw open a door giving into an inner room. "On the bed." |
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