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Updated: May 13, 2025
I I despise him!" "Yes, yes," hastily. "Course you do, course you do. Well, we won't worry about that, any of it. Mr. Daniels says there's nothin' to worry about anyhow, and I'll tell him he can do what he thinks ought to be done when it's necessary. Now let's finish up that packin' of yours, dearie." Thankful did not trust herself to accompany her cousin to Wellmouth Centre.
"When things comes as easy as this, you want to watch out for a change in the weather. We ain't through with the bunch yet." The Easterner, making the evening fire, nodded. "How are we to get provisions?" he asked. "First, I was thinkin' of packin' 'em in from Gophertown, over yonder. She's about thirty miles from here, across the alkali. 'T aint a regular town, but they got grub.
You heerd all about Miss Hammond's cowboy outfit stoppin' drinkin' an' cussin' an' packin' guns. They've took on religion an' decent livin', an' sure they'll be easy to hobble an' drive to jail. Hawe, listen. There was a good an' noble an be-ootiful woman come out of the East somewheres, an' she brought a lot of sunshine an' happiness an' new idees into the tough lives of cowboys.
The fact was that he did not know just why he had taken the gun or what he intended to do with it. After all, it was none of Montoya's business, yet Pete did not wish to offend the old man. He wanted to hear more about gun-fights with the cattlemen. "Well, seein' it's you, señor," Pete adopted the grand air as most befitting the occasion, "I'm packin' this here gun to fight cow-punchers with.
An' I reckon I'm older 'n I was when packin' gun-shot holes was nothin'. Every year tells. Only a man doesn't know till after.... An' how are you, Collie?" Her blue eyes clouded, and a tremor changed the expression of her sweet lips. "I am unhappy, Ben," she said. "But what could we expect? It might be worse. For instance, you might have been killed. I've much to be thankful for." "I reckon so.
Just as he had arrived at this sensible conclusion his companion came to a halt. "Here's my shanty; where's yours?" he asked. "Haven't got any!" "I'd ask you in if we wasn't packin' up to go." "Does your wife go with you?" "Why, nat'rally!" "Say," Wakefield queried, as the man turned in at the gate. "How did you go to work to get that job up in the cañon?"
At the most he ain't further away than the nearest water; arsenic makin' 'em plenty thirsty, as you-all most likely knows. "Old Coyote shows up in Wolfville about once a month, packin' in his pelts an' freightin' over to his wickeyup whatever in the way of grub he reckons he needs. Which, if you was ever to see Coyote once, you would remember him.
She led him to the parlor and offered him a seat. "Where's Cousin Rebecca?" he said, as he carefully placed his hat on the floor beside his chair. Phoebe seated herself opposite to her visitor with her back to the windows, so that her face was in shadow. "Rebecca's upstairs," she replied. Then, after a moment's pause: "She's packin' up," she said. Droop straightened up excitedly.
"It's the barkeep at the Red Light posts Colonel Sterett as to them perils. A Mexican comes trackin' along into the Colonel's room in the second story what he calls his 'sanctum' with a note. It's from the barkeep an' reads like this: RED LIGHT SALOON. Huggins is in here tankin' up an' makin' war medicine. He's packin' two guns. He says he's going to plug you for that piece.
It's twenty miles over the ridge to good grass and water." "Why, twenty miles isn't so far!" "They's considerable up and down in them twenty miles, Miss Bronson. Now, it wouldn't be so far for a turkey. He could fly most of the way. But a horse is different, and I'm packin' a right fair jag of stuff." "Well, good-bye, ranger man.
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