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Updated: May 17, 2025
Emerson walked up and down the parlor waving his cigar while Joyce laughed at him. "Dawggone my skin, if that don't beat my time! I'm settin' aside five thousand shares in the Jackpot for Dave Sanders right now. Smartest trick ever I did see." The justice of the Jackpot's vengeance on its rival and the completeness of it came home to him as he strode the carpet.
He was looking for Joyce to find him a collar-button that was missing. "Dawggone my hide!" he fumed, and stopped abruptly, the collar-button forgotten. Joyce flew out of Dave's arms into her father's. "Oh, Daddy, Daddy, I'm so happy," she whispered from the depths of his shoulder. The cattleman looked at Dave, and his rough face worked. "Boy, you're in luck.
"But why didn't you write and let us know?" Bob grew mildly profane in his warmth. He was as easy as though his friend had come back from a week in the hills on a deer hunt. "We didn't know when the Governor was goin' to act. Or we'd 'a' been right at the gate, me or Em Crawford one. Whyn't you answer our letters, you darned old scalawag? Dawggone, but I'm glad to see you."
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