William MacDonald: The Battle At Three-Cross

“It’s one sweet pony,” Lance said.

“I don’t see Fletcher’s horse.”

“I tried to take him alive. Only succeeded in breaking his bronc’s neck.”

“We knew you’d be back right soon,” Oscar said gravely. “It was nice going, Lance, all of it.”

Huareztjio pushed up, grinning, and took Lance’s hand. Lance returned the friendly clasp, touched spurs to his pony and moved on.

The professor was waiting for Lance at the edge of the gallery. One hand was bandaged. He held out his right hand as Lance climbed stiffly down from the saddle. “Back safe—thank God,” he said jerkily. “Made a fool of myself—lost my head, what?”

Lance said, “It’s a damn good thing you did. You started the ball rolling. It was you that turned the tide our way.”

Jones smiled shyly. “Good ruckus, what? Enjoyed it—fact.”

“Only thing I’m sorry for,” Lance said awkwardly, “is the loss of your cactus plant. That was really tough.”

“Regrettable,” Jones said philosophically, though his eyes looked a trifle moist, “but not vital, y’understand. Now I know it exists—search for another Echinopsis gregoriana . Katherine wants to—spend honeymoon here. Hope you won’t mind—having an old fool about cacti—around the house. She’s waiting for you, Lance. Better go in. Now that the dust has settled—peaceful days ahead, what?”

Lance passed through the doorway into the big room. It was cool and dim within. He saw movement and her hair like yellow pollen dust. The girl’s face was luminous in the purple shadows. He felt her heart beating against his own, and her arms were warm about his neck. After a time he said unsteadily, “Now that the dust has settled…”

Also by William Colt MacDonald:

Other Leisure books by William Colt MacDonald:

POWDER SMOKE

THE RED RAIDER