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Seltzer, Charles Alden, 1875-1942

"The Boss of the Lazy Y"

No one else was around. I buried Sharp. The
Taggarts will swear against me. Where's my chance?"
She was silent, and he laughed again. "They've got me, I reckon--the
Taggarts have. I fancied I was secure. I didn't think they'd try to
pull off anything like this. Shows how much dependence a man can put
in anything. They don't look like they had sense enough to think of
such a thing."
He stepped away from the door and went to the table, looking down at
the dishes she had set out for him, then at her, with a regretful smile
which brought a quick pang to her.
"Shucks," he said, more to himself than to her; "if this had happened
three months ago I'd have been plumb amused, an' I'd have had a heap of
fun with somebody before it could be got over with. Somehow, it don't
seem to be so damned funny now.
"It's your fault, too," he went on, regarding her with a direct, level
gaze. "Not that you got me into this mix-up, you understand--you're
not to blame for a thing--but it's your fault that it don't seem funny
to me. You've made me see things different."
"I am so sorry," she said, standing pale and rigid before him.
"Sorry that I'm seein' things different?" he said. "No?" at her quick,
reproachful negative. "Well, then, sorry that this had to happen.
Well, I'm sorry, too.


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