So June must stay in
the mountains, and what would become of her? She had gone back to
her mountain garb--would she lapse into her old life and ever
again be content? Yes, she would lapse, but never enough to keep
her from being unhappy all her life, and at that thought he
groaned. Thus far he was responsible and the paramount duty with
him had been that she should have the means to follow the career
she had planned for herself outside of those hills. And now if he
had the means, he was helpless. There was nothing for him to do
now but to see that the law had its way with Rufe Tolliver, and
meanwhile he let the reawakened land deal go hang and set himself
the task of finding out who it was that had ambushed old Dave
Tolliver. So even when he was thinking of June his brain was busy
on that mystery, and one night, as he sat brooding, a suspicion
flashed that made him grip his chair with both hands and rise to
pace the porch. Old Dave had been shot at dawn, and the night
before the Red Fox had been absent from the guard and had not
turned up until nearly noon next day. He had told Hale that he was
going home.
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