PAGE SIX
HEPPNER GAZETTE TIMES, HEPPNER, OREGON, THURSDAY, DEC. 13, 1928-
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WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE
Buck Duane. quick on the draw, kills
Cal Bain in self-defense and finds him
self an outlaw. Flying from pursuit
he meets Luke Stevens, another outlaw,
and the two become pals. Luke nar
rowlv escapes capture and Duane is
shocked to find his brother outlaw se
verely wounded.
Duane buries Stevens. Then he oea
on to Bland's camp, where he gets into
a fight with a man called Bosomer and
wounds the latter. He makes a friend
of an outlaw at Bland's called Euchre,
who tells him of Mrs. Bland and the
girl Jennie.
Duane meets. Jennie and promises to
try his utmost to get her away from
Bland's camp. To avert suspicion, it is
planned that he pretend to care for Mrs.
Bland. Euchre introduces him to the
latter and he engages in conversation
with her.
Buck plays the game, making Mrs.
Bland think he loves her. To avert sus
picion, Mrs. Bland pretends to her hus
band that Buck has come to visit Jen
nie. Bland urges Buck to become a reg
ular member of his outlaw gang.
A quarrel later develops in which Du
ane kills Bland and rushes off with
Jennie after a terrific struggle with
Mrs. Bland. He plans to leave Jennie
In good hands until a relative or friend
is located, and then go on alone on the
trail. He keeps careful guard over her.
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
About the middle of the after
noon Jennie awoke. They cooked
a meal, and afterward sat beside
the little fire. She had never been,
in his observation of her, anything
but a tragic figure, an unhappy
girl, the farthest removed from ser
enity and poise. That character
istic capacity for agitation struck
him as stronger in her this day. He
attributed it, however, to the long
strain, the suspense nearing an end.
Yet sometimes, when her eyes were
on him, she did not seem to be
thinking of her freedom, of her fu
ture. "This time tomorrow youH be in
Shelbyville," he said.
"Where will you be?" she asked
quickly.
"Me? Oh, I'll be making tracks
for some lonesome place," he re
plied.
The girl shuddered.
"I've been brought up in Texas. I
remember what a hard lot the men
of my family had. But poor as they
were, they had a roof over their
heads, a hearth with a fire, a warm
bed somebody to love them.
"And you, Duane, oh, my God!
What your life must be! You must
ride and hide and watch eternally.
No decent food, no pillow, no friend
ly word, no clean clothes, no wo
man's hand! Horses, guns, trails,
rocks, holes these must be the im
portant things in your life. You
must go on riding, hiding, killing
until you meet
She ended with a sob and drop
ped her head on her knees. Duane
was amazed, deeply touched.
"My girl, thank you for that
thought of me," he said, with
tremor in his voice. "You don't
know how much that means to me."
She raised her face and it was
tear-stained, eloquent, beautiful.
"I've heard tell the best of men
go to the bad out there. You won't
Promise me you won't I never-
knew any man like you. I I we
may never see each other again-
after today. I'll never forget you
I'll pray for you and I'll never give
up trying to to do something.
"Don't despair. It's never too
late. It was my hope that kept me
alive out there at Bland's before
you came. I was only a poor weak
girl. But of I could hope so can
you. Stay away from men! Be a
lone wolf! Fight for your life!
Stick out your exile and maybe
some day "
Then she lost her voice. Duane
clasped her hand, and with feeling
as deep as hers promised to remem
ber her words. In her despair for
him she had spoken wisdom point
ed out the only course.
Duane's vigilance, momentarily
broken by emotion, had no sooner
reasserted itself than he discovered
the bay horse, the one Jennie rode
had broken his halter and gone off.
The soft wet earth had deadened
the sound of his hoofs. His tracks
were plain in the mud. There were
clumps of mesquit in sight, among
which the horse might have stray
ed. It turned out, however, that he
had not done so.
Duane did not want to leave Jen
nie alone in the cabin, so near the
road. So he put her up on his horse
and bade her follow. The rain had
ceased for the time being, though
evidently the storm was not yet
over. The tracks lea up a wasn to
a wide flat where mesquit, prickly
pear, and thorn-bush grew so thick
ly that Jennie could not ride into it
Duane was tnorougniy concernea.
He must have her horse. Time was
flying. It would soon be night He
could not expect her to scramble
quickly through that brake on foot
Therefore he decided to risk leav
ing her at the edge of the thicket
and go in alone.
Suddenly there came the unmis
takable thump of horse's hoofs off
somewhere to the fore.
Then a scream rent the air. It
ended abruptly. Duane leaped for
ward and tore his way through the
thorny brake. He heard Jennie cry
again an appealing call, quickly
hushed. It seemed more to his
right and he plunged that way.
He burst into a glade where a
smoldering fire and ground covered
with footprints and tracks showed
that campers had lately been. Rush
ing across this, he broke his pass
age out to the open. But he was
too late.
His horse had disappeared. Jen
nie was gone. There was no rider
in sight. There was no sound.
It came to him then like a blow
that he loved the girl.
For three long and terrible years
Buck Duane rode up and down the
Texas border.
His fame grew steadily until he
was the most noted and most mis
represented outlaw of his day.
Hundreds of men In the border
towns claimed friendship with him.
Every honest rancher between
Brownsville and El Paso would
have been glad to shake his hand
and hide him. Every outlaw along
the river feared him; every crook
ed gambler in the monte dens play
ed fair when Duane happened to
drop in; every imitation bad man
in the southwest of Texas wanted
to kill him, bragged on his name
hunted him when fired by drink.
The better half of that widely
scattered populace especially in lo
calities Duane had visited, was
loath to believe him perpetrator of
the crimes laid to him. The ignor
ant and outlawed class fastened on
his name all the rustling, hold-ups,
robberies, murders, when direct evi
dence did not point to someone else.
In a sense, the reputation of ev
ery famous outlaw developed by
these wild years had suffered more
or less from this natural exaggera
tion and misrepresentation. But no
outlaw before him had ever had
such a host of admirers and par
tisans who fiercely gave the lie to
any accusation of robbery or crime
attributed to him.
It was widely known that he had
never earned a dollar in his outlaw
career. It was sworn by many and
reputable men that he had never
stolen one. Few towns or villages
on that border had no storekeeper
who had not a tale to tell about
Duane, the Lone Wolf.
One afternoon, from the top of a
long hill, Duane saw the green fields
and trees and shining roofs of a
town He considered must be Shirley;
and at the bottom of the hill he
came upon an Intersecting road.
There was a placard nailed on the
cross-road sign-post. Duane drew
rein near it and leaned close to
read the faded print:
$1,000 REWARD FOR BUCK
DUANE DEAD OR ALIVE.
Peering closer to read the finer,
more faded print Duane learned
that he was wanted for the murder
of Mrs. Jeff Allen at her ranch near
Shirley. The month of September
was named, but the date was illeg
ible. The reward was offered by the
woman's husband, whose name ap
peared, with that of a sheriff's, at
the bottom of the placard.
Duane read the thing twice. When
he straightened he was sick with
the horror of his fate, wild with
passion at those misguided fools
who could believe that he had harm
ed a woman.
When Duane reached the cross
ing of -the roads the name Fairfield
on the sign-post seemed to be the
thing that tipped the oscillating
balance of decision In favor of that
direction. He answered here to un-
fathonable impulse.
In Duane's state of mind clear
reasoning, common sense, or keen
ness were out of the question. He
went because he felt that he was
compelled.
Dusk had fallen when he rode in
to a town which Inquiry discovered
to be Fairfield. Captain McNelly's
camp was stationed just out of the
village limits on the other side.
No one except the boy Duane
questioned appeared to notice his
arrival. Like Shirley, the town of
Fairfield was large and prosperous,
compared to the innumerable ham
lets dotting the vast extent of south
western Texas. As Duane rode
through, being careful to get off the
main street, he heard the tolling of
church bell that was a melancholy
reminder of his old home.
There' did not appear to be any
camp on the outskirts of the town.
But as Duane sat his horse, peering
around and undecided what fur
ther move to make, he caught the
glint of flickering lights through
the darkness.
Heading toward them, he rode
perhaps a quarter of a mile to come
upon a grove of mesqults. The
brightness of several fires made the
surrounding darkness all the black-
Duane saw the moving forms
from the dark, moving group at the
camp-fire and hurried out.
Better be foxy, Cap," shouted a
ranger in warning.
Shut up all of you, was the re
ply-
This officer, obviously Captain
MacNelly, soon joined the two ran
gers who were confronting Duane.
He had no fear. He strode straight
up to Duane.
"I'm MacNelly," he said. "If
your'e the man don't mention your
name yet."
All this seemed so strange to Du
ane, in keeping with much that had
happened lately.
Buck Duane! It's you?" he whis
pered eagerly.
"Yes."
"If I give my word you'll not be
arrested you'll be treated fairly
will you come into camp and con
sult with me?"
"Certainly."
"Duane, I'm sure glad to meet
you," went on MacNelly and extend
ed his hand.
Amazed and touched, scarcely
realizing this actuality, Duane gave
his hand and felt an unmistakable
grip of warmth.
'It doesn't seem natural, Captain
MacNelly, but I believe I'm glad to
meet you," said Duane soberly.
"You will be. Now we'll go back
to camp. Keep your identity mum
for the present"
He led Duane In the direction of
the camp-fire.
(Continued Next Week.)
ST. PATRICK'S CHURCH.
Rev. Thomas J. Brady, pastor.
Third Sunday of Advent, Decem
ber 16, 1928.
The first mass on next Sunday,
December 16, will be in Boardman,
and said in Root's hall, just imme
diately over the postofflce. During
the stay of the pastor there he will
be the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Peter
Farley. The mass in Boardman will
be at 7:45 in the morning, so as to
give the pastor time to return to
Heppner for the mass there at 11
o'clock. Immediately after the 11
o'clock mass in Heppner, there will
be Benediction of the Blessed Sac
rament. The pastor will preach in
both places upon the Sanctiflcation
of the Sunday as the day of the
Lord.
Services on Christmas Day will
include a midnight high mass in
Heppner by the pastor who will
also fireach upon "The Wherefore
of the Birth of Christ." The mid
night mass will be followed at 8:30
o'clock by a second mass in Hepp
ner, and a third mass in The Sands
at 10:30. For the convenience of
the people who live in Heppner, and
also for the children, there will be
confessions in the afternoon of
Christmas-eve at 3 and 7. Confes
sions will be resumed at 11 at night
for the people who live out of town,
and continue until 11:30. The pas
tor kindly urges all to abide by
these arrangements. The midnight
service will last no longer than an
hour and a quarter. All are re
quested to approach the Sacra
ments on Christmas day and thus
bring home to each one the deep
significance of Christ's recurring
birthday. It is much to be reared
that so-called Christians are adrift
from the spiritual meaning of
Christmas day and have unfortun-
of men and heard horses. He ad
vanced naturally, expecting any mo
ment to be halted.
Who goes there?" came the
sharp call out of the gloom
Duane pulled his horse. The gloom
was impenetrable.
"One man alone, replied Duane.
"A stranger?"
"Yes."
"What do you want?"
"I'm trying to find the ranger
camp."
"You've struck it. What's your
errand?"
"I want to see Captain McNelly."
"Get down and advance. Slow.
Don't move your hands. It's dark,
but I can see."
Duane dismounted and, leading
his horse, slowly advanced a few
paces. He saw a dully bright ob
ject, a gun, before he discerned the
man who held it. A few more steps
showed a dark figure blocking the
trail. Here Duane halted.
"Come closer, stranger. Let's have
a look at you," the guard ordered
curtly.
Duane advanced again until he
stood before the man. Here the
ray of lights from the fire flickered
upon Duane's face fantastically.
"Reckon you re a stranger all
right What's your name and your
business with the captain?"
Duane hesitated, pondering what
best to say.
"Tell Captain McNelly I'm- the
man he's been asking to ride into
his camp after dark," finally said
Duane.
The ranger bent forward to peer
hard at this night visitor. His man
ner had been alert and now it be
came tense.
"Come here one of you men
quick," he called without turning in
the least toward the camp-fire.
"Hello! What's up, Pickens?"
came the swift reply.
It was followed by rapid thud of
boots on soft ground. A dark form
crossed the gleams from the fire
light. Then a ranger loomed up, to
reach the side of the guard.
Duane heard whispering, the pur
port of which he could not catch.
The second ranger swore under his
breath. Then he turned away and
started back.
"Here, ranger, before you go, un
derstand this. My visit is peaceful
friendly, if you'll let it be. Mind,
I was asked to come here after
dark."
Duane's clear, penetrating voice
carried far. The listening rangers
at the camp-fire heard what he said.
"Ho, Pickens tell that fellow to
wait," replied an authoritative
voice.
Then a slim figure detached itself
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