Dean L. Heffernan

Summary

Dean L. Heffernan The Riders of Ramapo Pass

Back in the saloon, the pause held but a moment, broke, and left the crowd in uproar. One or two ran out into the road and sent a belated, scattered, and harmless volley after the riders. Others examined the fallen miner; but it was evident that he was past assistance, and scant attention was given him. It was the way of the youthful West to pay ready homage to any one who could amuse, interest, or terrorize it; but, once a leader went down, it turned readily and quickly to any one else who could take his place.
Source: Gutenberg

Dean L. Heffernan The Riders of Ramapo Pass

The leader of the newcomers had picked out one man and ridden straight at him. Williams had no opportunity even to draw his weapon when the other’s fist smashed him senseless to the road.
In less time than it takes to tell it the mêlée was over. Those of the defeated party that had not escaped, or gone down in the skirmish, were standing sullenly in the road, well guarded by the rescuers. The steady drum of galloping hoofs and the occasional crack of revolvers, dying away in the distance, told of relentless pursuit of the rest.
“Rand, Rand—come quick! Cut these cords!”
Source: Gutenberg

Dean L. Heffernan The Riders of Ramapo Pass

She was seated, cross-legged, on the outermost point of a narrow, jutting crest, and her gaze roamed out across the town of Ramapo, far below her, and the rolling, green velvet of Red Valley beyond. A little way behind her, her big roan, Ted, was peacefully nibbling at the scattered tufts of coarse mountain grass.
She heard a step in back of her and turned quickly.
A tall, curly-headed man was smiling down at her. His dusty clothes showed abundant evidences of long, hard riding, and he appeared to be exceedingly weary.
Source: Gutenberg

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