Mavericks

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Mavericks

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mavericks, by William MacLeod
Raine This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
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Title: Mavericks
Author: William MacLeod Raine
Release Date: December 29, 2004 [EBook #14520]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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MAVERICKS ***

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[Illustration: THE RIDER SLEWED IN THE SADDLE WITH HIS
WHOLE ATTENTION UPON POSSIBLE PURSUIT. _Frontispiece.
Page 33_]

MAVERICKS
BY
WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE
AUTHOR OF
WYOMING, RIDGWAY OF MONTANA, BUCKY O'CONNOR, A
TEXAS RANGER, ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
CLARENCE ROWE
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
1911 STREET & SMITH
1912 G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY

TO MY MOTHER
"In vain men tell us time can alter Old loves, or make old memories
falter."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. PHYLLIS 9
II. THE NESTER 18
III. CAUGHT RED-HANDED 28

IV. "I'M A RUSTLER AND A THIEF, AM I?" 43
V. AN AIDER AND ABETTOR 53
VI. A GOOD FRIEND 76
VII. A SHOT FROM AMBUSH 84
VIII. MISS GOING-ON-EIGHTEEN 103
IX. PUNISHMENT 117
X. INTO THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY 126
XI. TOM DIXON 144
XII. THE ESCAPE 157
XIII. A MISTAKE 168
XIV. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION 183
XV. THE BRAND BLOTTER 200
XVI. A WATERSPOUT 214
XVII. THE HOLD-UP 226
XVIII. BRILL HEALY AIRS HIS SENTIMENTS 233
XIX. THE ROAN WITH THE WHITE STOCKINGS 241
XX. YEAGER RIDES TO NOCHES 253
XXI. BREAKING DOWN AN ALIBI 263
XXII. SURRENDER 276
XXIII. AT THE RODEO 289

XXIV. MISSING 296
XXV. LARRY TELLS A BEAR STORY 304
XXVI. THE MAN HUNT 323
XXVII. THE ROUND-UP 329

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE
The rider slewed in the saddle with his whole attention upon possible
pursuit. Frontispiece 33
She drew back as if he had struck her, all the sparkling eagerness
driven from her face. 110
"Drop that gun!" 205
They grappled in silence save for the heavy panting that evidenced the
tension of their efforts. 340

MAVERICKS
CHAPTER I
PHYLLIS
Phyllis leaned against the door-jamb and looked down the long road
which wound up from the valley and lost itself now and again in the
land waves. Miles away she could see a little cloud of dust travelling
behind the microscopic stage, which moved toward her almost as
imperceptibly as the minute-hand of a clock. A bronco was descending
the hill trail from the Flagstaff mine, and its rider announced his
coming with song in a voice young and glad.
"My love has breath o' roses, O' roses, o' roses, And cheeks like

summer posies All fresh with morning dew,"
floated the words to her across the sunlit open.
If the girl heard, she heeded not. One might have guessed her a sullen,
silent lass, and would have done her less than justice. For the storm in
her eyes and the curl of the lip were born of a mood and not of habit.
They had to do with the gay vocalist who drew his horse up in front of
her and relaxed into the easy droop of the experienced rider at rest.
"Don't see me, do you?" he asked, smiling.
Her dark, level gaze came round and met his sunniness without
response.
"Yes, I see you, Tom Dixon."
"And you don't think you see much then?" he suggested lightly.
She gave him no other answer than the one he found in the rigor of her
straight figure and the flash of her dark eyes.
"Mad at me, Phyl?" Crossing his arms on the pommel of the saddle he
leaned toward her, half coaxing, half teasing.
The girl chose to ignore him and withdrew her gaze to the stage, still
creeping antlike toward the hills.
"My love has breath o' roses, O' roses, o' roses,"
he hummed audaciously, ready to catch her smile when it came.
It did not come. He thought he had never seen her carry her dusky good
looks more scornfully. With a movement of impatience she brushed
back a rebellious lock of blue-black hair from her temple.
"Somebody's acting right foolish," he continued jauntily. "It was all in
fun, and in a game at that."

"I wasn't playing," he heard, though the profile did not turn in the least
toward him.
"Well, I hated to let you stay a wall-flower."
"I don't play kissing games any more," she informed him with dignity.
"Sho, Phyl! I told you 'twas only in fun," he justified himself. "A kiss
ain't anything to make so much fuss over. You ain't the