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Updated: May 2, 2025
He looked up at Lance, for the first time meeting his eyes squarely. "I'm know them damn word you call. Nh-hn. Long time I'm got that what it mean on my heart. You're damn right." He waited a minute, saw the Lorrigan look on Lance's face, on his lips that smiled enigmatically. "Them Californy got bronks to bust?" "Surest thing you know, Sam. But that's all right. You stay."
Didn't dad say anything? Didn't the boys?" And then, with faint exasperation, "Doesn't any one ever talk any more on this ranch?" Sam Pretty Cow gave him a swift, oblique glance and spat accurately at a great horsefly that had lighted on a board end. "Not much, you bet. Nh-hn."
Sam Pretty Cow lipped the edge of his cigarette paper, folded it down smoothly on the tiny roll of tobacco, leaned his body backward and painstakingly drew a match from the small pocket of his grimy blue overalls. "I'm don' know nothing," he vouchsafed equably. "I'm don' ask nothing. I'm don' hear nothing. You bet. Nh-hn yore damn right." From under his lashes Lance watched Sam Pretty Cow.
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