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Updated: May 6, 2025
Kid Wolf asked. "A son," muttered Wise in a tone of disgust. "Small good he is." "Where is he?" "Nobody knows," growled Lathum. "Somewhere in Mexico, I guess. He was practically run out o' San Felipe. He's no bueno." Kid Wolf learned that the son Harry Thomas had nearly broken his parents' hearts.
Thomas' right. Her son, Harry, as happy as he had ever been in his life, sat on the other. Anton, Wise, and Lathum were grouped about the rest of the table, leaning back in their chairs. "When Blizzahd is rested," said The Kid, in a matter-of-fact tone, "we'll be strikin' westward. I'm kind of anxious to see what's doin' ovah in New Mexico and Arizona."
"Harry's played the hand of a real man to-night," Kid Wolf put in for him. "I'm through as a gambler," said Harry. "Boys, will yuh take me for a friend?" "Well, I should say we will!" Lathum cried, and all three shook his hand warmly. "Yore mother will be mighty proud, son and glad," old Anton said. "Now, men," said The Kid, "get those steers movin' toward the S Bar.
"Well, there's Ed Mullhall, Dick Anton, Fred Wise, Frank Lathum, and the foreman Steve Stacy. But, tell me, who are you to do this for a stranger, a woman you've never seen before? I'm Mrs. Thomas." The Texan bowed courteously. "They call me Kid Wolf, ma'am," he replied. "Mah business is rightin' the wrongs of the weak and oppressed, when it's in mah power.
Yuh can tell thet," put in Lathum. "Oh, yes," pointed out Anton soberly. "Mothers always do. Great things, these mothers." He blew his nose violently on his red bandanna, and shortly afterward went to bed. Soon all four were in the bunks, resting for the hard work that awaited them on the morrow mañana and many days after mañana.
"Our cake's plumb liable to be overspiced with trouble," Frank Lathum said with a laugh. Kid Wolf, with his three newly hired riders, were well on their way to the S Bar. His companions knew of a short route that would take them directly to the Thomas hacienda, and they were following a steep-walled canyon out of the mesa lands to the westward. "Look!" cried Wise. "Somebody's coming after us!"
"By the way, can yo' tell me where I can find a Mistah Mullhall, a Mistah Anton, a Mistah Lathum, a Mistah Wise, and a Mistah Steve Stacy?" When the bartender could recover himself, he pointed out a table near the door. "Wise an' Lathum an' Anton is right there playin' monte," he said. "Stacy an' Mullhall was here this mornin', but I don't see 'em now."
Yuh ought to have 'em across the Rio by sunup. Theah won't be any pursuit. Don Floristo isn't in any position to ordah it. I'll see yo'-all at Ma Thomas' dinnah table." "Where are you goin', Kid?" Lathum asked in astonishment. "Harry will help yo' get the cattle home," said The Kid. "I'm ridin' like all get-out to make Mistah Goliday, Esquiah, a social call." "But why " Wise began.
"And get out!" Kid Wolf had not bothered to draw his guns, but Anton, Wise, and Lathum had reached for theirs, and they had the angry pair covered. Stacy changed his mind about whirling his gun on his forefinger as he recovered it, and sullenly shoved it into its holster. "We'll get yuh!" snarled Stacy, his furious eyes boring into The Kid's cool gray ones.
How much do yo' suppose the S Bar is wo'th, Anton?" "Well, with five good springs two rock tanks and three gravel ones, she's a first-class layout. The pick of the country. I'd say twenty thousand." "The robbers!" muttered Kid Wolf. "What's on the program?" asked Frank Lathum. "We can't do much ranchin' without cattle." "No," admitted The Kid. "We must get those cattle back."
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