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Updated: April 30, 2025
Pretty nigh's good as me. Well, so-long, Jack. I I kind of wish you was buildin' a new house yourself." Corliss, standing with his hand on the neck of Sundown's horse, smiled. "Arizona's a man's country, Sun." "She sure is!" said Sundown, throwing out his chest. "And lemme tell you, Jack, it's a man's business to get married and settle down and raise more of 'em.
Why, I shot droves of 'em right from the bunk-house door. I never miss a chance. Cut loose every time I see one standin' with his front paws on the trough. Get 'em every time." "Wisht I'd knowed that." "So?" "Uhuh. I'd 'a' borrowed a gun off you and set up and watched for 'em myself." Bud Shoop made a pretense of tightening a cinch on Sundown's pony, that he might "blush unseen," as it were.
He recognized it as one of the Concho ponies. Almost beneath the animal lay a huddled something. Sundown's scalp tingled. Slowly he got from his horse and stalked across the intervening space. He led the pony from the tumbled shape on the ground. Then he knelt and raised the man's shoulders. Sinker, one of the Concho riders, groaned and tore at the shirt over his stomach. Then Sundown knew.
Chance, a prisoner in the stable, whined and gnawed at the rope with which Corliss had tied him. The rope was hard-twisted and tough. Finally the last strand gave way. The dog leaped through the doorway and ran sniffing around the enclosure. He found Sundown's trail and followed it to the ranch-house. At the threshold the dog stopped. His neck bristled and he crooked one foreleg.
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