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Iffen de old house is still thar I 'spec you kin fin' mud cakes up under de house whut we made out'n eggs we stole frum de hen nests. Den we milked jes anybody's cows we could ketch, an' churned it. We's all time in ter some mischief. "Thar was plenty dancin' 'mong'st darkies on Marse George's place an' on ones nearby.
Then once in a while they come long tradin' and selling slaves. Nother way they sell em was at public auction. Iffen a slave steal from another master, like go in his smoke house or crib and steal, the sheriff have to whip him. They would have public whippin'. "How'd they know was freedom? How'd they not know it was freedom? Everybody went wild. They was jes' crazy cause they was free.
Iffen you wants to sit ’round waitin’ for ’em, do it! I’m clearin’ out—ain’t nobody can say Amos Lutterfield was here." "Nobody but us," Shannon said coldly. "Lutterfield!" Even Drew’s head came around at that. The moonlight was silver bright on the barrel of the Colt in Kitchell’s grasp. "Sergeant, suppose you take precautions to insure the continued company of this man.
One day pappy come in an' say to mammy: "'Does you want to be bigger an' stronger dan whut you already is? An' mammy say she did. So nex' day he brung her a li'l bottle of somethin' blood red wid somethin' looked like a gourd seed in de middle of it, an' he tol' her to drink hit iffen she want to be real strong. Frum de fust drink she fell off.
Iffen dey had known how to tie a hangmans knot I wouldn't be here to tell you about it." "It wuzn't long after dis dat I jined Colonel' Baker's Gang for 'tection. 'Colonel' Baker wuz a great and brave man and did mo' fo de white folks of dis country den any other man. Why iffen it hadn't been fo' him de white folks couldn't hab lived in dis country, de negroes wuz so mean.
"Me, I’ve been trailin’ round this here country since th’ moon was two-bit size. An’ I ain’t set my moccasins on all o’ it yet. Thar’s parts maybe even an Injun ain’t seed neither. You jus’ outta th’ army, son?" Drew nodded. Apparently he could not escape that part of his past, and there was no reason to deny it. "Iffen you be huntin’ a job—Don Cazar, he’s always ready to hire on wagon guards.
Got him patched up an’ into town; then he keeled over when he tried to git down off his hoss an’ was in bed a week." "Apaches?" "Naw, we figured it was Kitchell. Couldn’t prove it though, an’ after that th’ Old Man made a rule we take Pimas every drive. Ain’t nothin’ able to surprise them. I never had no use for Injuns, but these here are peaceful cusses—iffen they don’t smell an Apache.
Iffen th’ Mex can prove that, th’ Old Man promises to talk for him with th’ law. So far he ain’t said nothin’ much in answer." They ate. The prisoner’s round face expressed surprise when Rennie had him provided with an equal share. He sucked his greasy fingers avidly after he had wolfed down his portion. A moment later he asked a question of his own.
Once' m' pappy run away an' Marse Jim got de blood houn's afte' him, an' catched him up 'fo he could git fur, an' dat day he lay him 'cross de barrel, an' whupped him frum sun up til sun down. When he quit off, m' pappy couldn' talk no more'n a whisper sca'cely. "Pattyrollers, I heard of 'em allright 'cause dey sho' would git you iffen y' went abroad widout a pass frum Marse Jim.
He’s got one manada all of grullas. Sells some to th’ army, drives more clear to Californy. An’ th’ old Dons down in Sonora come up once in a while to pick them out some fancy saddle stock. He sure would enjoy seem’ these grays o’ yours. Iffen you ever want to sell, Don Cazar’d give you top price."
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