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Updated: May 25, 2025
"They's nothing in that," declared Jack Harpe with contempt, twisting his neck to glower up at Racey. "Suppose I did wanna get hold of the Dale ranch. What of it?" "Shore," put in Luke Tweezy. "What of it? Perfectly legitimate business proposition. Legal, and all that." "Not quite," denied Racey. "Not the way you went about it. Nawsir.
"Well, of course, you don't have to answer," said the judge, gallantly. "But alla same, Marie, you hadn't oughta used a gun on him. It it ain't ladylike. Nawsir. Don't you do it again or I'll send you to Piegan City. Ten dollars or ten days." "What?" Thus Jack Harpe, astonished beyond measure. "Ten dollars or ten days," repeated Judge Dolan. "Taking a shot at you is worth ten dollars but no more.
"You leave that gun alone, and lemme tell you, stranger, while we're together, that I want to buy that pup of yores. A gent like you ain't fit company for a self-respecting dog to associate with. Nawsir." "You got the drop," grumbled the burly youth. "Which is one on you," Racey observed, good-humouredly. "Maybe I'll be seein' you again," suggested the other.
"Shucks, suppose now those handwritin' experts Judge Dolan got from Chicago hadn't been able to prove at the time that the forgery and the fifty or sixty copies of yore dad's name were written by the same hand, ink, and pen? Suppose now they hadn't? What then? Where'd you be, I'd like to know? Nawsir, you give them the credit. They deserve it. Well, I'm shore glad yo're all gonna be rich, Molly.
"There's the hotel," suggested Kansas Casey. "You don't use my hotel for no calaboose," squawked Bill Lainey. "Nawsir. Not much. You put her in yore own house, Jake. Then if she sets you afire, it's your own fault. Yeah." Jake Rule scratched his head. It was patent that he did not quite know what to do. Came then Dolan, the local justice of the peace.
The second went straight up into the blue, for by then Racey had the old man's wrist. "There, there," soothed Racey, "you don't want that gun, Nawsir. Not you. Le's have it, that's a good feller now." So speaking he twisted the sixshooter from the old man's grasp and jammed it into the waistband of his own trousers. The old man burst into frank tears.
No, I expect Jack Harpe would be worried some if he knowed we'd recognized him.... Aw, what are you scared of? Pap's dead, ain't he? How can Harpe hurt us? He never knowed how intimate we knowed Pap while he was stayin' at our house. He just thought Pap was a friend. He never knowed we got our share of the money. Nawsir, he can't hook us up with that killin' nohow, but we can hook him.
You worked with him up at Scotty MacKenzie's Flyin' M ranch on the Dogsoldier, and I've knowed him ever since I come to this country. I ain't doing anything to make me bad friends with Tom Loudon. Then there's Dale, this Chin Whisker party. He's a good feller, and had a heap of hard luck, too. I ain't working against him, you betcha. Nawsir. And if I don't miss my guess you don't, either."
"Lordy, I wouldn't be in yore shoes for something. Nawsir. She'll snatch you baldheaded, she will. The old lady was wild when she come out an' found her good hoss missing. And she shore said what she thought of you some more when she seen she had to ride home on that old crow's dinner of a moth-eaten accordeen you left behind."
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