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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"Starr, of the Desert"

But as for taking chances--" Her voice was frankly
contemptuous of the idea.
"Chances of going broke. It takes experience--"
"Oh, as to that, it's partly a matter of health," said Helen May
lightly. "I have to live where the climate--"
"You could live in Albuquerque, or some other live town; close to it,
anyway. You don't have to stick away down here, where--"
"I don't see as it matters. So long as it isn't Los Angeles, no place
appeals to me. And dad had bought the improvements here, so--"
"I'll pay you for the improvements, if that's all," Starr said shortly.
Helen May laughed. "That sounds exactly as though you want to get me out
of the country," she challenged.
Starr did not rise to the bait. He took another long look for the
horseman, saw not so much as a flurry of dust, and slid the glasses into
their case.
"I brought out that carbine I was speaking about. And the shells that go
with it. I'm kind of a gun fiend, I guess. I'm always accumulating a lot
of shooting irons I never use. I run across a six-shooter and belt, too.
Come here, Rabbit!"
Rabbit came, and Starr untied the weapons, smiling boyishly.


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