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Updated: May 14, 2025
Now Jack's got friends here and it won't help you any to let 'em know you're sore at him. I ain't feelin' like kissin' him myself right now. But I ain't advertisin' it. What you want to do is " "What's that got to do with me?" interrupted Corliss. Fadeaway laughed. "Nothin' if you like. Only there's been doin's since you lit out." And he paused to let the inference sink in. "You mean ?"
The cowboy, by sheer force of his personality, dominated the now repentant Corliss, whose stubbornness had given way to tearful retraction and reiterated apology. Of course they were friends! They drank and Fadeaway noticed the other's increasing pallor. "Jest about one more and he'll take a sleep," soliloquized the cowboy. "In the mornin' 's when I ketch him, raw, sore, and ready for anything."
"I'll take a chance, if you will," said Corliss, now assuming, as Fadeaway had intended, the rôle of leader in the proposed robbery. "How you expect to get clear when they find it out?" "I could get old man Soper to hide me out till I could get to Sagetown. He'll do anything for money. I could be on the Limited before the news would get to Antelope."
Just as he drew rein, the old herder imitated with perfect intonation the quavering bleat of a lamb calling to its mother. Fadeaway jerked straight in the saddle. A ball of smoke puffed from the cottonwoods. The cowboy doubled up and slid headforemost into the stream. The horse, startled by the lunge of its rider, leaped to the bank and raced up the trail.
He had a score to settle with that vaquero for having shot at him. He had another and larger score to settle with him for no, he would not think of his beloved sheep mangled and dead at the bottom of the cañon. That would anger him and make his hand unsteady. Fadeaway rode his horse into the ford and sat looking downstream as the horse drank.
He stiffened and struck the man in the face. He felt himself jerked backward and the shock cleared his vision. Opposite him two men held Fadeaway, whose mouth was bleeding. The puncher was struggling to get at his gun. Corliss laughed. "Got you that time, you thief!" "He's crazy drunk," said one of the men. "Don't get het up, Fade. He ain't packin' a gun."
When he essayed the intimacy of patting the dog's head, some of the onlookers doubted him, for Chance received these overtures with a deep-throated growl. "He won't let nobody touch him but that Sundown gent," cautioned a bystander. "Guess he's loco since he got chewed up," said Fadeaway, retreating. Chance licked his wounds and recovered slowly.
He said he was goin' home, but he never said where it was. Hit a open switch so they said after and when they pulled the stitches, and took that plaster dingus off me leg, I starts out huntin' for Billy. Nobody knowed anything about him. Wasn't no signs in the wreck, so they said. You see I was in that fadeaway joint six weeks." "What did he look like?" "Billy? More like a girl than a man.
The effects of his conviviality at the Blue had worn off, leaving him in an ugly mood. Corliss looked him over from head to heel. Then he glanced at the dog. Chance turned his head down and sideways, avoiding his master's eye. Fadeaway laughed. "You get your time!" said Corliss. "You're dam' right!" retorted Fadeaway. "And you're damned wrong!
Since meeting the brother he had arrived at a plan to revenge himself on John Corliss and he intended that the brother should take the initiative. He got up and proffered his hand. "So long, Billy. If you ever need a friend, you know where to find him." "Hold on, Fade. What's your rush?" "Got to see a fella. Mebby I'll drop in later." Corliss rose. Fadeaway leaned across the table.
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