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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"Her Prairie Knight"


For once he was not glad to be near his Heart's Desire; he wished her
elsewhere--anywhere but sitting on that rock, over there, with her
little, gloved hands folded quietly in her lap, and that adorable,
demure look on her face--the look which would have put her mother
instantly upon the defensive--and a gleam in her eyes Keith read for
scorn.
Surely he might do something! Barely six feet now separated him from
Kelly. If one of those lumps of rock that strewed the ground was in his
hand--he stooped to reach under Rex's body for the cinch, and could
almost feel Kelly's eyes boring into his back. A false move--well, Keith
had heard of Kelly a good many times; if this fellow was really the man
he claimed to be, Keith did not need to guess what would follow a
suspicious move; he knew. He looked stealthily toward him, and Kelly's
eyes met his with a gleam sinister.
Kelly grinned. "I wouldn't, kid," he said softly.
Keith swore in a whisper, and his fingers closed upon the cinch. It was
no use to fight the devil with cunning, he thought, bitterly.
Just then Beatrice gave an unearthly screech, that made the horses'
knees bend under them. When Keith whirled to see what it was, she was
standing upon the rock, with her skirts held tightly around her, like
the pictures of women when a mouse gets into the room.


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