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Updated: June 14, 2025
Strong and skillful hands, axes and a crosscut saw, had been the prime factors in erecting this habitation of the Isbels. "Good mawnin', son," called a cheery voice from the porch. "Shore we-all heard you shoot; an' the crack of that forty-four was as welcome as May flowers." Bill Isbel looked up from a task over a saddle girth and inquired pleasantly if Jean ever slept of nights.
"You-you'd have said it, too!" sobbed the Little Colonel, "if Eu-Eugenia had been so mean to you all mawnin'! She's been t-talkin so hateful and cross " "I have not!" cried Eugenia. "You began it, and you have tried to pick a quarrel ever since we came out here, and Joyce has kept nagging at me, too.
I done seen it foh yeahs, an' now I seen it plain! De moon have it writ on her face las' night, de birds sing it in de trees, de chicken act it in his talk dis vehy mawnin'. De dog he howl it out las' night. De sun he show it plain dis vehy day. De trees say it, now weeks an' weeks.
I's one o' de ole Blue hen's Chickens, I is! an' den I see dat young man stan' a-starin' an' stiff, lookin' kin' o' up at de ceilin' like he fo'got somefin, an' couldn't 'member it no mo'. Well, I jist march' on dem niggers so, lookin' like a gen'l an' dey jist cave' away befo' me an' out at de do'. An' as dis young man a-goin' out, I heah him say to another nigger, 'Jim, he says, 'you go 'long an' tell de cap'n I be on han' 'bout eight o'clock in de mawnin'; dey's somefin on my mine, he says; 'I don't sleep no mo' dis night.
"I don't spend my time in expectations about you. If " The Virginian wheeled his horse across the road. "Yu're talkin' too soon after reachin' safety, Trampas. I didn't tell yu' to hand me that rope this mawnin', because I was busy. I ain't foreman now; and I want that rope." Trampas produced a smile as skilful as his voice. "Well, I guess your having mine proves this one is yours."
This interest mattah was an ovahsight; I should have looked out fo' it, and not put the G. B. T. to the trouble of advancing it; but as we have this mawnin' on deposit with them several thousand dollahs from the sale of the Tolliver's Subdivision papah, the thing becomes a mattah of no impo'tance whatevah!"
"Yore paw an' yore two brothers was laywaid this mawnin' comin' 'long Yaller Banks togither," was the message brought by a breathless bearer of news. "The wimmenfolks air totin' 'em home now. Talt, he ain't dead yit." From a dry spot behind a log Anse lifted his rifle and started over the ridge with the long, shambling gait of the born hill-climber that eats up the miles.
A colored boy was on watch here nobody else visible. We gathered from him that this calm craft would go, as advertised, 'if she got her trip; if she didn't get it, she would wait for it. 'Has she got any of her trip? 'Bless you, no, boss. She ain't unloadened, yit. She only come in dis mawnin'.
He looked at her another long, breathless moment, then turned and walked out through the French window. "Good mawnin', sheriff," her tortured brain heard him say. Old Jess Mason eyed him over high cheek bones and hawk-like nose for the fraction of a second before taking his hand from beneath his coat. Then it came slowly out, empty. "Good mawnin', yohse'f!"
Asked why he was back so soon, he replied: "Well, fellers, one o' them big depot water tanks burnt plumb up this mawnin', an' reckonin' whar that'd happen a feller might ketch fire anywhere in them little old town trails, I jes' nachally pulled my freight for camp!" But a cowboy is the subject of this story Kit Joy.
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