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The Gold Girl By: James B. Hendryx (1880-1963) |
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The Gold Girl
By James B. Hendryx Author of "The Promise," "The Gun Brand," "The Texan," etc.
G. P. Putnam's Sons New York and London The Knickerbocker Press 1920
COPYRIGHT, 1920 BY JAMES B. HENDRYX
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I. A HORSEMAN OF THE HILLS 1 II. AT THE WATTS RANCH 10 III. PATTY GOES TO TOWN 30 IV. MONK BETHUNE 47 V. SHEEP CAMP 65 VI. BETHUNE PAYS A CALL 81 VII. IN THE CABIN 98 VIII. PROSPECTING 111 IX. PATTY TAKES PRECAUTIONS 129 X. THE BISHOP OF ALL OUTDOORS 146 XI. LORD CLENDENNING GETS A DUCKING 162 XII. BETHUNE TRIES AGAIN 180 XIII. PATTY DRAWS A MAP 198 XIV. THE SAMUELSONS 219 XV. THE HORSE RAID 239 XVI. PATTY FINDS A GLOVE 263 XVII. UNMASKED 288 XVIII. PATTY MAKES HER STRIKE 308 XIX. THE RACE FOR THE REGISTER 327
The Gold Girl CHAPTER I A HORSEMAN OF THE HILLS
Patty Sinclair reined in her horse at the top of a low divide and
gazed helplessly around her. The trail that had grown fainter and
fainter with its ascent of the creek bed disappeared entirely at the
slope of loose rock and bunch grass that slanted steeply to the
divide. In vain she scanned the deeply gored valley that lay before
her and the timbered slopes of the mountains for sign of human
habitation. Her horse lowered his head and snipped at the bunch grass.
Stiffly the girl dismounted. She had been in the saddle since early
noon with only two short intervals of rest when she had stopped to
drink and to bathe her fare in the deliciously cold waters of mountain
streams and now the trail had melted into the hills, and the broad
shadows of mountains were lengthening. Every muscle of her body ached
at the unaccustomed strain, and she was very hungry. She envied her
horse his enjoyment of the bunch grass which he munched with much
tongueing of the bit and impatient shaking of the head. With bridle
reins gripped tightly she leaned wearily against the saddle. "I'm lost," she murmured. "Just plain lost . Surely I must have come
fifty miles, and I followed their directions exactly, and now I'm
tired, and stiff, and sore, and hungry, and lost." A grim little smile
tightened the corners of her mouth. "But I'm glad I came. If Aunt
Rebecca could see me now! Wouldn't she just gloat? 'I told you so, my
dear, just as I often told your poor father, to have nothing whatever
to do with that horrible country of wild Indians, and ferocious
beasts, and desperate characters.'" Hot tears blurred her eyes at the
thought of her father. "This is the country he loved, with its
mountains and its woods and its deep mysterious valleys and I want to
love it, too. And I will love it! I'll find his mine if it takes me
all the rest of my life. And I'll show the people back home that he
was right, that he did know that the gold was here, and that he
wasn't just a visionary and a ne'er do well!" A rattle of loose stones set her heart thumping wildly and caused her
to peer down the back trail where a horseman was slowly ascending the
slope. The man sat loosely in his saddle with the easy grace of the
slack rein rider. A roll brim Stetson with its crown boxed into a peak
was pushed slightly back upon his head, and his legs were encased to
the thighs in battered leather chaps whose lacings were studded with
silver chonchas as large as trade dollars... Continue reading book >>
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Genres for this book |
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Fiction |
Literature |
Westerns |
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