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Updated: May 28, 2025
With the infinite wariness of her race she waited to see what he would do; to read, if she might, what were his thoughts his attitude toward her in his unguarded moments. That little, inscrutable smile which so exasperated Applehead was on her lips while she watched him. Ramon finished that cigarette, threw away the stab and rolled and lighted another.
Rosemary frowned at the two and went to the door and called Compadre; but the blue cat, scenting a dog in the house, meowed his regrets and would not come. "I'll take 'im down with me," said Applehead, rising stiffly. "He cain't take no comfort in the house no more not till he spunks up and licks that thar dawg a time er two. Comin', Luck?" he added, waiting at the door.
"It'll pay in the long run," said Luck, "to give them an hour here. I'll pay the Injuns for what grass they eat. Ramon must have stopped here yesterday. I'm going up and see if I can't pry a little information loose from those squaws and papooses. Come on, Applehead you can talk a little Navvy; you come and tell 'em what I want." Applehead hesitated, and with a very good reason.
"Well, show'em, dang it, an' shut up!" muttered Applehead crossly, and turned over on his good ear so that he could sleep undisturbed. Luck, half awakened by the movement, curled up with his knees close to his chin and went on with his dream.
Will it swing you too far into the sun, Pete, if you pick him up down there in that dry channel?" "Not if you let me make it right away," Pete replied after a squint or two through the viewfinder. "Sun's getting pretty far over " "Ought to leave a feller time to git his wind," Applehead complained, looking up at Luck with eyes bloodshot from the heat.
The grass, thick and green in the sheltered places, was fast painting all the higher ridges and foot-hill slopes, and with the green grass came the lank-bodied, big-kneed calves; which meant that roundup time was at hand. Applehead did not own more than a thousand head of cattle, counting every hoof that walked under his brand.
I've a good mind to get some house here in town to run it; say, I might raise some money that way, if I can't do it any other." And then his enthusiasm cooled. "Town isn't big enough for a long-enough run," he considered disgustedly. "I'm past the two-bit stage of the game now." "Well, you ask Applehead to raise the money," advised Weary. "Or one of us will write to Chip for some. Mamma!
Now WILL you quit your arguing, or shall I throw you out the window?" "Well, now, I calc'late you'd have a right busy time throwin' ME out the window," Applehead boasted, and backed into a corner to digest this astonishing turn of events.
Beside him Lite Avery, tall and lean to the point of being skinny, followed his movements with quiet attention and himself took to studying more closely the hoofprints in the sandy soil. Applehead looked up, gauged the probable direction the trail was taking, and gave a grunt.
"I betcher it's goin' to snow, all right," Happy Jack interrupted the warning. "Chickydees was swarmin' all over the place, t'day." "We-ell, now, yuh don't want to go too much on them chickydees," Applehead dissented. "Change uh wind'll set them flockin' and chirpin'. Ain't ary flake uh snow in the wind t'day, fur's I kin smell and I calc'late I kin smell snow fur's the next one."
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