Free The Lone Star Ranger and the Mysterious Rider by Zane Grey

different. Who are you?”
    Duane told her.
    â€œYou’re not a robber or rustler or murderer or some bad man come here to hide?”
    â€œNo, I’m not,” replied Duane, trying to smile.
    â€œThen why are you here?”
    â€œI’m on the dodge. You know what that means. I got in a shooting-scrape at home and had to run off. When it blows over I hope to go back.”
    â€œBut you can’t be honest here?”
    â€œYes, I can.”
    â€œOh, I know what these outlaws are. Yes, you’re different.” She kept the strained gaze upon him, but hope was kindling, and the hard lines of her youthful face were softening.
    Something sweet and warm stirred deep in Duane as he realized the unfortunate girl was experiencing a birth of trust in him.
    â€œO God! Maybe you’re the man to save me—to take me away before it’s too late!”
    Duane’s spirit leaped.
    â€œMaybe I am,” he replied, instantly.
    She seemed to check a blind impulse to run into his arms. Her cheek flamed, her lips quivered, her bosom swelled under her ragged dress. Then the glow began to fade; doubt once more assailed her.
    â€œIt can’t be. You’re only—after me, too, like Bland—like all of them.”
    Duane’s long arms were out and his hands clasped her shoulders. He shook her.
    â€œLook at me—straight in the eye. There are decent men. Haven’t you a father—a brother?”
    â€œThey’re dead—killed by raiders. We lived in Dimmit County. I was carried away,” Jennie replied, hurriedly. She put up an appealing hand to him. “Forgive me. I believe—I know you’re good. It was only—I live so much in fear—I’m half crazy—I’ve almost forgotten what good men are like. Mister Duane, you’ll help me?”
    â€œYes, Jennie, I will. Tell me how. What must I do? Have you any plan?”
    â€œOh no. But take me away.”
    â€œI’ll try,” said Duane, simply. “That won’t be easy, though. I must have time to think. You must help me. There are many things to consider. Horses, food, trails, and then the best time to make the attempt. Are you watched—kept prisoner?”
    â€œNo. I could have run off lots of times. But I was afraid. I’d only have fallen into worse hands. Euchre has told me that. Mrs. Bland beats me, half starves me, but she has kept me from her husband and these other dogs. She’s been as good as that, and I’m grateful. She hasn’t done it for love of me, though. She always hated me. And lately she’s growing jealous. There was a man came here by the name of Spence—so he called himself. He tried to be kind to me. But she wouldn’t let him. She was in love with him. She’s a bad woman. Bland finally shot Spence, and that ended that. She’s been jealous ever since. I hear her fighting with Bland about me. She swears she’ll kill me before he gets me. And Bland laughs in her face. Then I’ve heard Chess Alloway try to persuade Bland to give me to him. But Bland doesn’t laugh then. Just lately before Bland went away things almost came to a head. I couldn’t sleep. I wished Mrs. Bland would kill me. I’ll certainly kill myself if they ruin me. Duane, you must be quick if you’d save me.”
    â€œI realize that,” replied he, thoughtfully. “I think my difficulty will be to fool Mrs. Bland. If she suspected me she’d have the whole gang of outlaws on me at once.”
    â€œShe would that. You’ve got to be careful—and quick.”
    â€œWhat kind of woman is she?” inquired Duane.
    â€œShe’s—she’s brazen. I’ve heard her with her lovers. They get drunk sometimes when Bland’s away. She’s got a terrible temper. She’s vain. She likes flattery. Oh, you could fool her easy enough if you’d lower yourself to—to—”
    â€œTo make love