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Cullum, Ridgwell, [pseud.], 1867-1943

"The Forfeit"

Her emotions had been beyond
words. She wanted to weep. She wanted to laugh. But more than all
she wanted to flee before he could utter another word. She turned to
her horse without a word. In a moment she was in the saddle, and had
turned the creature about to ride off. But Jeff's voice stayed her.
"Say, little Nan, I----" he broke off. "Oh, I guess I'll eat at the
bunkhouse. I haven't time for supper right. I've got to get down to
the branding pinch. Say, Nan," a sudden deep urging had filled his
voice, and he came to her horse's side and laid a detaining hand upon
its reins. "Can I come along up--later? I didn't mean to make you
mad. True. I couldn't help it. I---- May I come along--after I get
through?"
It had been utterly impossible for her to make articulate reply. Her
emotions were too deep, too overwhelming. She had simply nodded her
head. And in that trifling movement she knew she had conveyed a sign
beyond all misunderstanding.
After that the woman had impelled her. She hurriedly rode off, fearing
she knew not what.


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