The Sunset Trail

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Lewis Alfred Henry. The Sunset Trail

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER I – HOW IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT

CHAPTER II – THAT TRANSACTION IN PONIES

CHAPTER III – INEZ OF THE ’DOBE WALLS

CHAPTER IV – THE WILD ROSE OF THE CANADIAN

CHAPTER V – THE STRATEGY OF MR. MASTERSON

CHAPTER VI – THE FATAL GRATITUDE OF MR. KELLY

CHAPTER VII – WHY THE WEEKLY PLANET DIED

CHAPTER VIII – AN INVASION OF DODGE

CHAPTER IX – THE MEDICINE OF LONE WOLF

CHAPTER X – THE INTUITIONS OF MR. ALLISON

CHAPTER XI – HOW TRUE LOVE RAN IN DODGE

CHAPTER XII – DIPLOMACY IN DODGE

CHAPTER XIII – THE RESCUE OF CIMARRON BILL

CHAPTER XIV – THE WORRIES OF MR. HOLIDAY

CHAPTER XV – HOW MR. HICKOK WENT INTO CHEYENNE

CHAPTER XVI – THE LAST VISIT TO DODGE

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His baptismal name was William Barclay, but before the corn-coloured pencilling on his upper lip had foretold the coming of a moustache, he was known throughout that wide-flung region lying between the Platte and the Rio Grande, the Missouri and the Mountains, as Bat. This honour fell to the boyish share of Mr. Masterson because his quick eye, steady hand, and stealthy foot rendered him invincible against bears and buffaloes and other animals, ferae naturae, and gray oldsters of the plains were thereby reminded of a Batiste Brown who had been celebrated as a hunter in the faraway heroic days of Chouteau, Sublette, Bridger, and St. Vrain.

There is no such season as boyhood on the plains, folk are children one day, men the next, and thus it befell with Mr. Masterson. He owned, while yet his cheek was as hairless as an egg, primeval gravities and silences, and neither asked nor answered questions, neither took nor gave advice. Among his companions of the range he gained the reputation of one who “attends strictly to his own business”; and this contributed to his vogue and standing, and laid the bedplates of a popular confidence in Mr. Masterson.

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“Make yourself comfortable; you will be able to follow all that goes on, should you be interested in it, from the buckboard. You’ve brought a pair of field glasses, I see. Lucky we’re down the wind! I can go straight to them.”

As the ground between him and the buffaloes on the slope lay flat and open, with not so much as a bush to act as a screen, Mr. Masterson’s remark about going straight to his quarry appeared a bit optimistic. However, Mr. Masterson did not think so, but seemed the sublimation of certainty; he started off at a slow, careless walk directly towards the herd.

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