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Crooked Trails and Straight   By: (1871-1954)

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First Page:

[Illustration: THIS SLENDER GIRL DUMFOUNDED THEM Frontispiece Page 41 ]

CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT

BY WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE

AUTHOR OF BRAND BLOTTERS, BUCKY O'CONNOR, MAVERICKS, WYOMING, RIDGWAY OF MONTANA, A TEXAS RANGER, etc.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY D. C. HUTCHISON

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Made in the United States of America

Copyright, 1913, by G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY

Crooked Trails and Straight

CONTENTS

PART I

CURLY

CHAPTER PAGE I. Following a Crooked Trail 9 II. Camping with Old Man Trouble 23 III. At the End of the Road 33 IV. The Cullisons 49 V. Laura London 60 VI. A Bear Trap 74 VII. Bad Medicine 84 VIII. A Rehearsed Quarrel 94 IX. Eavesdropping 110 X. "Stick to Your Saddle" 131

PART II

LUCK

I. At the Round Up Club 143 II. Luck Meets an Old Acquaintance 151 III. An Initialed Hat 157 IV. Kate Uses Her Quirt 169 V. "Ain't She the Gamest Little Thoroughbred?" 178 VI. Two Hats On A Rack 194 VII. Anonymous Letters 200 VIII. A Message in Cipher 213 IX. "The Friends of L. C. Serve Notice" 220 X. Cass Fendrick Makes a Call 233 XI. A Compromise 245 XII. An Arrest 254 XIII. A Conversation 265 XIV. A Touch of the Third Degree 270 XV. Bob Takes a Hand 282 XVI. A Clean Up 294 XVII. The Prodigal Son 312 XVIII. Cutting Trail 316 XIX. A Good Samaritan 323 XX. Loose Threads 337

CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT

PART I

CURLY

CHAPTER I

FOLLOWING A CROOKED TRAIL

Across Dry Valley a dust cloud had been moving for hours. It rolled into Saguache at the brisk heels of a bunch of horses just about the time the town was settling itself to supper. At the intersection of Main and La Junta streets the cloud was churned to a greater volume and density. From out of the heart of it cantered a rider, who swung his pony as on a half dollar, and deflected the remuda toward Chunn's corral.

The rider was in the broad rimmed felt hat, the gray shirt, the plain leather chaps of a vaquero. The alkali dust of Arizona lay thick on every exposed inch of him, but youth bloomed inextinguishably through the grime. As he swept forward with a whoop to turn the lead horses it rang in his voice, announced itself in his carriage, was apparent in the modeling of his slim, hard body. Under other conditions he might have been a college freshman for age, but the competent confidence of manhood sat easily on his broad shoulders. He was already a graduate of that school of experience which always holds open session on the baked desert. Curly Flandrau had more than once looked into the chill eyes of death.

The leaders of the herd dribbled into the corral through the open gate, and the others crowded on their heels. Three more riders followed Curly into the enclosure. Upon them, too, the desert had sifted its white coat. The stained withers of the animals they rode told of long, steady travel. One of them, a red haired young fellow of about the same age as Curly, swung stiffly from the saddle... Continue reading book >>




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