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Updated: June 13, 2025
Rufe evidently felt that the line must be drawn somewhere. "An' what hev gone with that thar grant? 'T war hyar yestiddy." "I dunno," responded Rufe, carelessly. "Mebbe Pig-wigs reminded hisself 'bout'n it arter awhile, an' kem an' got it." This proved to be the case. For Andy Byers concerned himself enough in the matter to ride the old mule over to Nate's home, to push the inquiries.
Shrill voices of terrified blacks, hoarse bellowings of the hardiest rascals who had ever kissed a dripping cutlas, the throaty roar of men who had played willing lieutenants to the ringleader: all pealed up to high heaven for the culprit to come forth and taste of the queen's justice rather than wait for her vengeance. "Rufe! Yellow Rufe!" they howled.
But the deedies hed all gone ter bed, an' the old hen war hoverin' of 'em, an' I didn't want ter 'sturb 'em," said Rufe considerately. "So I tole Pig-wigs ter meet me at the tanyard early, an' I'd fetch him one. An' ez his granny war goin' visitin' her merried daughter, she let him ride behind her on thar sorrel mare ez fur ez the tanyard. So he got hyar 'fore I did.
He quickened his steps upon observing the intent attitude of the party, and as he came up he demanded vivaciously, "What ails that thar pit o' yourn, Mister Perkins? thought ye said 't warn't goin' ter be opened ag'in fore-shortly." For a moment the tanner made no reply. Then he drawled absently, "Nuthin' ails the pit, Rufe nuthin'." Rufe sat down on the edge of it, and gazed speculatively at it.
Now, ef dey should take a notion ter trouble Bre'er Nimbus, hit mout do him a heap of harm, kase he's got so much truck 'round him here ter lose. So we made it up dat I was ter go ter Bre'er Rufe Paterson's, ober in Hanson county an' see ef we couldn't find a place ter lib dar, so's not ter be baitin' de hawks on ter you, Cousin Nimbus."
Nate was in the habit of exacting similar services from his acquiescent younger brother, and Tim had his hands full, as he tried to hold the gun, and turn the coat on his arm. He finally hung the garment on a peg in the shed, and shouldered the weapon. Suddenly he whirled around toward Rufe, who was still standing by. "What in the nation air inside o' that thar boy?" he exclaimed.
It seemed as if he had hardly fallen asleep when Creede was up again, hurling the wood on the fire. "Pile out, fellers!" he shouted. "You can sleep all day bimebye. Come on, Rufe d'ye want to find them sheep in the corral when you go back to Hidden Water?" And so with relentless energy he roused them up, divided out the work, and was off again for Bronco Mesa.
His horse was lame but he must go on: so he hired a "yaller" mule from the landlord, and when the beast was brought around, he overheard two men talking at the end of the porch. "You don't mean to say they've made peace?" "Yes, Rufe's going away agin and they shuk hands all of 'em." The other laughed. "Rufe ain't gone yit!" The Cumberland River was rain-swollen.
But though her eyes were red from recent tears, they were bright with anticipation. Sandy was coming back. That fact seemed to make everything right. She leaned her chin on her palm and tried to still the beating of her heart. She knew he would come. Irresponsible, hot-headed, impulsive as he was, he had never failed her. She glanced impatiently at the clock. "Miss Rufe, was you ever in love?"
A week had gone, and there was no word from Rufe Stetson. Up on Thunderstruck Knob the old Stetson mother was growing pitiably eager and restless. Every day she slipped like a ghost through the leafless woods and in and out the cabin, kindling hatred. At every dawn or dusk she was on her porch peering through the dim light for Rufe Stetson. Steve Marcum was ill at ease.
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