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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"Starr, of the Desert"

It was less strange because of his youth; for Luis would
have all the fiery attributes of the warrior, unhindered by the cool
judgment of maturity. He would see the excitement, the glory of it. Estan
would see the terrible cost of it, in lives and in patrimony. Luis loved
action. Estan loved his big flocks and his acres upon acres of land, and
his quiet home; had loved too his foster country, if he had spoken his
true sentiments. So Starr took his cue and thanked his good fortune that
he had come upon this tragedy while it was fresh, and while the shock of
it was loosening the tongue of Luis.
"A month from now is another time, Luis," he said quietly. "This is
murder, and the man who did it can be punished."
"You can't puneesh Apodaca," Luis retorted, speaking English, since Starr
had used the language, which put their talk beyond the mother's
understanding. "He is too--too high up--But I can kill," he added
vindictively.
"The law can get him better than you can," Starr pointed out cannily.
"Can you think of anybody else that might be in on the deal?"
"N-o--" Luis was plainly getting a hold on himself, and would not tell
all he knew.


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