The Round-Up: a romance of Arizona novelized from Edmund Day's melodrama by Miller and Murray


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Page 30

Bud threw himself wearily on the ground.

"I'd give the rest of my life to undo to-day's work," he groaned,
speaking more to himself than to his companion.

McKee heard him. His anger began to arise. If Bud weakened
detection was certain. Flight back to Texas must be started
without delay. If he could strengthen the will of the boy either
by promise of reward or fear of punishment, the chances of
detection would lessen as the days passed.

"And that would be about twenty-four hours if you don't keep
quiet. Why didn't he put up his hands when I hollered? He
starts to wrastle and pull gun, and I had to nail him." McKee
shuddered spite of his bravado.

Pulling himself together with an apparent effort, he continued:
"We'll hold the money for a spell--not spend a cent of it till
this thing blows over--they'll never get us. Here, we'll divide
it."

"Keep it all. I never want to touch a penny of it," said Bud
earnestly, moving along the ground to place a greater distance
between him and the murderer.

"Thanks. But you don't git out of your part of the hold-up that
easy. Take your share, or I'll blow it into you," said McKee,
pulling his revolver.

Bud, with an effort, arose and walked over to Buck. With
clenched fists, in agonized tones, he cried: "Shoot, if you want
to. I wish I'd never seen you--you dragged me into this--you
made me your accomplice in a murder."

McKee looked at him in amazement. This phase of human character
was new to him, trained as he been on the border, where men
rarely suffered remorse and still more rarely displayed it.

"Shucks! I killed him--you didn't have no hand in it," answered
Buck. "This ain't my first killin'. I guess Buck McKee's pretty
well known in some sections. I took all the chances. I did the
killin'. You git half. Now, brace up and take yer medicine
straight."

"But I didn't want to take the money for myself," replied Bud, as
if to soothe his conscience. "Oh! Buck, why didn't you let me
alone?" he continued, as the thought of his position again
overwhelmed him.

Buck gasped at the shifting of the full blame upon his shoulders.

"Well, I'll be darned!" he muttered. "You make me sick, Kid."
His voice rose in anger and disgust. "Why, to hear you talk, one
would think you was the only one had right feelin's. I'm goin'
to take my share and start a decent life. I'm goin' back to
Texas an' open a saloon. You take your half, marry your gal, and
settle down right here. 'Ole Man' Terrill's dead; nothin' will
bring him back, an' you might as well get the good o' the money.
It's Slim Hoover's, anyhow. If Jack Payson can marry your
brother Dick's gal on Dick's money--fer there's no hope o'
stoppin' that now--you can cut Slim out with Polly, on Slim's
salary. Aw, take the money!" and McKee pressed half of the bills
into Bud's lax fingers.

The young man's hand closed upon them mechanically. A vague
thought that he might some day make restitution conspired with
McKee's insidious appeal to his hatred and jealousy to induce him
to retain the blood-money, and he thrust it within an inside
pocket of his loose waistcoat.

"Now," said McKee, thoroughly satisfied that he had involved Bud
in the crime too deeply for him to confess his share in it,
"we'll shake hands, and say 'adios.' Slim Hoover's probably on
our track by this time, but I reckon he'll be some mixed in the
trail around the mesa, and give the job up as a bad one when he
reaches the river. I'll show up on the Lazy K, where the whole
outfit will swear I've been fer two days, if Hoover picks on me
as one of the men he's been follerin'. You're safe. Nobody'd
put killin' anybody on to you, let alone your ole frien' Terrill.
Why, yuh ain't a man yet, Bud, though I don't it to discurrudge
yuh. You've made a start, an' some day yuh won't think no more'n
me of killin' a feller what stan's in yer way. I shouldn't be so
turribly surprised if Jack Payson got what's comin' to him
someday. But what have you got there, Bud?" he inquired, as he
saw the young man holding a letter he had withdrawn from the
pocket into which he had put the bills.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sun 15th Feb 2026, 22:45