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Updated: May 7, 2025
He ain't used to bein' so careful an' tender-hearted-like, Brayley ain't." "Just because I'm to work under him, does that mean that in the eye of you men he had a right " An uplifted hand stopped him. "When two men has onpleasant words it ain't up to anybody else to say who's right.
He remembered and, strangely enough, the remembrance came to him calmly even while the heart within him beat as though bursting against the walls of his chest and the blood hammered hot in his ears what Argyl had said the other day as they rode to Rattlesnake Valley. She had told him that Brayley had licked him because Brayley had been the better man.
Brayley, on the other hand, had come in in a seething rage from a tussle with a colt in which his stirrup leather had broken and he had rolled in the dust of the corral, to the boundless glee of two or three of his men who had seen it, and now there was nothing to restrain his anger. Conniston was laughing into his face. "I hear you," he said, lightly.
The fingers hung at his side, shot through with sharp pain, feeling as though they were being slowly crushed between two stones. Brayley got slowly to his feet, swaying like a drunken man, reeling when he first stood up, and lurching sideways until his shoulders struck the high fence of the corral. Conniston put up his left arm, his right hanging powerless at his side, and followed him.
"Did you get me?" "I got you, friend." Conniston put out his hand for the bread and caught a gleam of sparkling amusement in Lonesome Pete's eyes from across the table. "And maybe after you tell me who you are I might answer you." "Me!" thundered the big man, lurching one step nearer, his under jaw thrust still farther out. "Me! I'm Brayley, that's who I am!
"And you were not right at first, and are not right now. I asked Brayley to let me have a man to help me with something I have to do over in the valley, and he said he would send you. Do you guess why?" "No. It was a kindness from Brayley, and I am not in the habit of expecting kindnesses from him." "Then I will tell you.
And" with a distorted grin "I'll 'scuse the left hand, Con!" Brayley and Conniston went together into the corral and picked up the three revolvers. Then Conniston turned toward the stable to get his horse. Brayley's eyes followed him, narrowing speculatively. "Hey, Conniston," he called, sharply, "where you goin'?" "To work. It's late now." "Yes, it's late, all right.
And then Brayley came. "What's up, Con?" he asked, swinging down from his panting horse, his keen eyes taking in the fading excitement, the general idleness. And then, as he stooped forward and looked into the barrel: "Good heavens! What is the matter?" In a few words Conniston told him. For a moment Brayley said nothing, shaking his head and eying him curiously.
"To begin with, I shall want a man here to take my place if I find it necessary to be away at all. I want Brayley here, and right away." "Brayley is the best man on the Half Moon. You can have him." "Thank you. There is one further thing." "Name it." "I do not draw a cent of wages until the first day of October. Then if I have water in the valley I get it in a block.
He remembered suddenly that he had not had a shave for four days. Rawhide Jones, Toothy, and Brayley came out of the bunk-house together. They all saw her and as one man lifted their broad-brimmed hats. She called to Brayley, and as the others went down to the stable he walked, lurching, to her. Conniston could not hear what she was saying, but Brayley's heavier voice came to him distinctly.
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