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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Oh, you'll like it when you get used to it," said Ranse. "Yes, I'll send you up one more drink by Pedro. I think you'll make a first-class cowpuncher before I get through with you." "Me?" said Curly. "I pity the cows you set me to chaperon. They can go chase themselves. Don't forget my nightcap, please, boss." Ranse paid a visit to the store before going to the house.
"All right," said Ranse. "I reckon you're a maverick for certain. I'm going to put the Rancho Cibolo brand on you. I'll start you to work in one of the camps to-morrow." "Work!" sniffed Curly, disdainfully. "What do you take me for? Do you think I'd chase cows, and hop-skip-and-jump around after crazy sheep like that pink and yellow guy at the store says these Reubs do? Forget it."
Curly planted a stinging slap against Ranse's left cheek. The print of his hand stood out a dull red against the tan. Ranse smiled happily. The cowpunchers talk to this day of the battle that followed. Somewhere in his restless tour of the cities Curly had acquired the art of self-defence.
Tell my father that an' ask him to forgive me if he can. That wuz all she said. Ranse Roush hit her horse with a switch an' sez, 'Yo' kin tell him all that yore own self soon as you git home. I reckon I wuz the lastest person she spoke to alive." They left the old woman staring after them with her mouth open. It could have been only a few minutes later that they reached Quicksand Creek.
"Ranse took the order for some more smokin' to San Antone with him Tuesday. Pancho rode Ranse's hoss back yesterday; and Ranse is goin' to drive the wagon back himself. There wa'n't much of a load just some woolsacks and blankets and nails and canned peaches and a few things we was out of. I look for Ranse to roll in to-day sure.
The /charco/, or water hole, was twelve yards away. Ranse took one of Curly's ankles and dragged him like a sack of potatoes to the brink. Then with the strength and sleight of a hammer-throw he hurled the offending member of society far into the lake. Curly crawled out and up the bank spluttering like a porpoise. Ranse met him with a piece of soap and a coarse towel in his hands.
"Ranse took the order for some more smokin' to San Antone with him Tuesday. Pancho rode Ranse's hoss back yesterday; and Ranse is goin' to drive the wagon back himself. There wa'n't much of a load just some woolsacks and blankets and nails and canned peaches and a few things we was out of. I look for Ranse to roll in to-day sure.
Don't forget to wind the clock to-night." "You air a-goin' to your brother Ed's?" asked Ransie, with fine unconcern. "I was 'lowin' to get along up thar afore night. I ain't sayin' as they'll pester theyselves any to make me welcome, but I hain't nowhar else fur to go. It's a right smart ways, and I reckon I better be goin'. I'll be a-sayin' good-bye, Ranse that is, if you keer fur to say so."
"Well, ain't that a Willie for your whiskers?" he commented. "Where'd you dig up the hobo, Ranse? Goin' to make an auditorium for inbreviates out of the ranch?" "Say," said Curly, from whose panoplied breast all shafts of wit fell blunted. "Any of you kiddin' guys got a drink on you? Have your fun. Say, I've been hittin' the stuff till I don't know straight up." He turned to Ranse.
"Besides, nobody don't want nobody to stay." "Nobody never said they didn't." "Nobody never said they did. I reckon I better start on now to brother Ed's." "Nobody can't wind that old clock." "Want me to go back along 'ith you in the cart and wind it fur you, Ranse?" The mountaineer's countenance was proof against emotion. But he reached out a big hand and enclosed Ariela's thin brown one.
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