Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 29, 2025
"A person'd think, short-handed as the Muleshoe is this spring, 't you'd git all the ridin' yuh want without prognosticatin' around aimless." Now Bud was not a suspicious young man, and he had been no more than mildly inquisitive about that trail.
He was eager to know all the news that Bud could tell him, and when he discovered that Bud had just left the Muleshoe, and that he had been fired because of a fight with Dirk Tracy, the old fellow cackled gleefully, "Well, now, I guess you just about had yore hands full, young man," he commented shrewdly. "Dirk ain't so easy to lick."
The crowd hooted to see how Smoky hobbled along, barely touching the toe of his lame foot to the ground. Bud led him back to the manger piled with new hay, and faced the jeering crowd belligerently. Bud noticed several of the Muleshoe men in the crowd, no doubt drawn to Little Lost by the talk of Bud's spectacular winnings for two Sundays. Hen was there, and Day Masters and Cub.
To feel now, without apparent cause, that his friends might be enemies in disguise, was a new experience that harried him. He had come to Little Lost on Tuesday, straight from the Muleshoe where his presence was no longer desired for some reason not yet satisfactorily explained to him. You know what happened on Tuesday.
He was not altogether sure that he had done his full duty to the Muleshoe, but it was against human nature for a man nearing forty to lie uncovered in the brush, and let a numerous family of mosquitoes feed upon him while he listened to a young man snoring comfortably in a good camp bed a hundred feet away.
Dirk took time to pry off a fresh chew of tobacco before he replied. "You mean Thunder Pass? That there crosses over into the Black Rim country. Yeah There's a big wide range country over there, but we don't run any stock on it. Burroback Valley's big enough for the Muleshoe." Bud rolled a cigarette.
He caught himself wondering if Lew Morris's wife was frightened, and the realization that he was worrying about her fear worried him more than ever and held him awake long after the fury of the storm had passed. Next day, when he came in at noon, there was Hen, from the Muleshoe, waiting for dinner before he rode back with the mail.
He had a very good general idea of Burroback Valley, he knew that the Muleshoe occupied a fair part of the south side, and guessed that he must ride north, toward the Gold Gap Mountains, to find the place he wanted. The trail was easy, his horses were as fat as was good for them.
In the morning he would make a fresh start and because of the streak of stubbornness he had, he meant to make it in Burroback Valley, under the very nose of the Muleshoe outfit. Little Lost somehow the name appealed to Bud, whose instinct for harmony extended to words and phrases and, for that matter, to everything in the world that was beautiful.
I had some trouble. I'm on the dodge, and Little Lost is right handy to the Sinks and Catrock Canyon. There ain't a sheriff in Idaho that would have one chance in a thousand of getting me here. But you say!" He faced Bud. "You ain't on the dodge, too, are yuh?" "Nope," Bud grinned. "Over at the Muleshoe they seemed to think I was.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking