She saw in her mind the
claiming of the toll these men demanded, and to her swift imagination
the picture of her husband's murder was complete before her eyes.
"Sikkem comes from Orrville. He was there--four years ago. There was
more than suspicion attached to him. My first day here I met him.
Maybe you'll remember. He knew me at once. I don't guess there was
any mistake. And I knew him. When he heard I was--married to you he
pretended he'd mistaken me for--some one else. And when he explained
who, and his feelings against that woman--it was me he was
describing--I knew he was, as was suspected, one of the Lightfoot gang
at Orrville. Sikkem wrote that note. I could stake my life on it.
And--now he's sent for you. He's asking you to go out to Spruce
Crossing--at night. A distant, lonely point in the hills. He says
he's mortally wounded. He has found the rustlers hiding. Of course he
has. He's known all along. Nor do I believe he's wounded. He--and
the others--think the only way to get back on me is--through you.
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