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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Her name's Helen Rayner," replied Beasley, eagerly. "She's twenty years old. All of them Auchinclosses was handsome an' they say she's the handsomest." "A-huh!... Beasley, this 's sure a bigger deal an' one I ain't fancyin'.... But I never doubted your word.... Come on an' talk out. What's in it for me?" "Don't let any one in on this. You two can hold up the stage.
Ain't you sort of rememberin' a time when you was young an' mebbe knowed pretty kids like this one?" "Wal, if I am it 'll shore turn out bad fer somebody." Anson gave him a surprised stare and suddenly lost the bantering tone. "A-huh! So thet's how it's workin'," he replied, and flung himself down in the shade. Young Burt made his appearance then, wiping his sallow face.
"She's sleepin'. Let her sleep. She'd shore be a sight better off if she was daid." "A-huh! So would all of this hyar outfit," was Anson's response. "Wal, Sna-ake, I shore reckon we'll all be thet there soon," drawled Wilson, in his familiar cool and irritating tone that said so much more than the content of the words. Anson did not address the Texas member of his party again.
She was not ready yet to court death. "Wait," she said. "A-huh!" he grunted, breathing heavily. He was an animal, slow- witted and brutal. "Fresno, I am Durade's girl!" she went on. "I thought I knowed you. But you're grown to be a woman an' a dam' pretty one." Allie drew him aside, farther from the others, who had renewed a loud altercation.
"Pard, he's got us beat two ways for Sunday," replied Wilson. "A-huh!... Wal, let's get back to camp." And he led the way out. Low voices drifted into the cabin, then came snorts of horses and striking hoofs, and after that a steady trot, gradually ceasing. Once more the moan of wind and soft patter of rain filled the forest stillness.
"A-huh! ejaculated Anson, dubiously. Then he turned abruptly. Moze, you an' Shady an' Burt go wait outside. Reckon this ain't the deal I expected.... An' you can saddle the hosses." The three members of the gang filed out, all glancing keenly at the stranger, who had moved back into the shadow. "All right now, Beasley," said Anson, low-voiced. "What's your game? Jim, here, is in on my deals."
"Bostil, mebbe you 'ain't been told yet thet thet Creech rode in yesterday.... He lost all his racers! He had to shoot both Peg an' Roan!" Bostil's thought suffered a sudden, blank halt. Then, with realization, came the shock for which he had long been prepared. "A-huh! Is thet so? ... Wal, an' what did he say?" Holley laughed a grim, significant laugh that curdled Bostil's blood.
"Say, Bostil, I happen to know Slone didn't see Lucy last night," interrupted Holley. "A-huh! Wal, you'd better talk out." "I trusted Lucy," said Holley. "But all the same, knowin' she was in love, I jest wanted to see if any girl in love could keep her word.... So about dark I went down the grove an' watched fer Slone. Pretty soon I seen him. He sneaked along the upper end an' I follered.
That was great, Bostil knew, and enough to win over any horse in the uplands, providing the luck of the race fell even. Luck, however, was a fickle thing. "I was advisin' Dad to swim the hosses over," declared Joel, deliberately. "A-huh! You was? ... An' why?" rejoined Bostil. Joel's simplicity and frankness vanished, and with them his rationality. He looked queer.
From the glance the old rancher shot from the cowboy to the others of his employ it seemed to Helen that they were having fun at Carmichael's expense. "Yes, sir, I did," suddenly replied the cowboy. "A-huh! All right, here's my niece. Now see thet she speaks the good word." Carmichael looked at Bo and Bo looked at him. Their glances were strange, wondering, and they grew shy. Bo dropped hers.
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