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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"The Quirt"

Much more
at ease than it would have been had he read what was in Lorraine's mind
when, she slammed that door.
Up above Sugar Spring was timber. By applying to the nearest Forest
Supervisor a certain amount could be had for ranch improvements upon
paying a small sum for the "stumpage." The Quirt had permission to cut
posts for their new fence which Al Woodruff had reported to his boss.
As he drove up the trail, which was in places barely passable for a
wagon, Brit was thinking of that fence. The Sawtooth would object to it,
he knew, since it cut off one of their stock trails and sent them around
through rougher country. Just what form their objection would take,
Brit did not know. Deep in his intrepid soul he hoped that the Sawtooth
would at last show its hand openly. He had liked Fred Thurman, and what
Lorraine had told him went much deeper than she knew. He wanted to bring
them into the open where he could fight with some show of winning.
"I'll git Bill Warfield yet--and git him right," was the gist of his
musings. "He's bound to show his head, give him time enough. Him and his
killers can't always keep under cover.


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