Molly McDonald. Randall Parrish

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Molly McDonald - Randall Parrish

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rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_df07ceb2-3540-55eb-b383-d9a0f668a840">CHAPTER XXIII

       THE DEAD BODY

       CHAPTER XXIV

       IN PURSUIT

       CHAPTER XXV

       IN THE BLIZZARD

       CHAPTER XXVI

       UNSEEN DANGER

       CHAPTER XXVII

       HUGHES' STORY

       CHAPTER XXVIII

       SNOWBOUND

       CHAPTER XXIX

       THE CHASE

       CHAPTER XXX

       THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW

       CHAPTER XXXI

       THE GIRL AND THE MAN

       CHAPTER XXXII

       WORDS OF LOVE

       CHAPTER XXXIII

       MOLLY'S STORY

       CHAPTER XXXIV

       THE ADVANCE OF CUSTER

       CHAPTER XXXV

       THE INDIAN TRAIL

       CHAPTER XXXVI

       READY TO ATTACK

       CHAPTER XXXVII

       THE BATTLE WITH THE INDIANS

       CHAPTER XXXVIII

       AT CAMP SUPPLY

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

       "No, don't move! The stage has been gutted and set on fire"

       The two started back at his rather abrupt entrance

       His Colt poised for action, he lifted the wooden latch

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      When, late in May, 1868, Major Daniel McDonald, Sixth Infantry, was first assigned to command the new three company post established southwest of Fort Dodge, designed to protect the newly discovered Cimarron trail leading to Santa Fé across the desert, and, purely by courtesy, officially termed Fort Devere, he naturally considered it perfectly safe to invite his only daughter to join him there for her summer vacation. Indeed, at that time, there was apparently no valid reason why he should deny himself this pleasure. Except for certain vague rumors regarding uneasiness among the Sioux warriors north of the Platte, the various tribes of the Plains were causing no unusual trouble to military authorities, although, of course, there was no time in the history of that country utterly devoid of peril from young raiders, usually aided and abetted by outcast whites. However, the Santa Fé route, by this date, had become a well-travelled trail, protected by scattered posts along its entire route, frequently patrolled by troops, and merely considered dangerous for small parties, south of the Cimarron, where roving Comanches in bad humor might be encountered.

      Fully assured as to this by officers met at Fort Ripley, McDonald, who had never before served west of the Mississippi, wrote his daughter a long letter, describing in careful detail the route, set an exact date for her departure, and then, satisfied all was well arranged, set forth with his small command on the long march overland. He had not seen his daughter for over two years, as during her vacation time (she was attending Sunnycrest School, on the Hudson), she made her home with an aunt in Connecticut. This year the aunt was

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