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Updated: May 31, 2025
Some of the young men were hurrying to the corral, belting on their guns as they ran to fetch their horses and join the pursuit. Siwash called them back. "Leave it to him, boys; it's his by rights," he said. Taterleg stood looking after the two riders, the hindmost drawing steadily upon the leader, and stood looking so until they disappeared in the timber at the base of the hills.
"I don't blame you for leavin'," said Taterleg, returning to the original thread of discussion, "it'll be as lonesome as sin up there at the ranch with Vesta gone away. When she's there she fills that place up like the music of a band." "She sure does, Taterleg."
"There's that slab-sided, spider-legged Alta Wood standin' out on the porch," said Taterleg disgustedly, falling behind Lambert, reining around on the other side to put him between the lady and himself. "You'd better stop and bid her good-bye," Lambert suggested. Taterleg pulled his hat over his eyes to shut out the sight of her, turned his head, ignoring her greeting.
Taterleg was looking over the gate, trying to bring himself into the range of her eyes. He swept off his hat when she looked that way, to be rewarded by an immediate presentation of her back. Such cow-punchers as these were altogether too fine and grand in their independent airs, her attitude seemed to say. "Did you take the job?" Taterleg inquired. "I didn't ask her about it."
She never was so leanin' and lovin' before, settin' up so clost to me you couldn't 'a' put a sheet of writin' paper between us. Shucks!" "Rubbin' the paint off, Taterleg. You ought 'a' took the tip that she was about done with you." "You're right; I would 'a' if I'd 'a' had as much brains as a ant.
He was in the post office when he heard the shot that, he feared, opened hostilities between Taterleg and Jedlick. He hurried out with the rest of the customers and went toward the hotel. There was some commotion on the hotel porch, which it was too dark to follow, but he heard Alta scream, after which there came another shot. The bullet struck the side of the store, high above Lambert's head.
Even Taterleg had made sacrifices to appearance in favor of comfort, his piratical corduroys being replaced by overalls. The Duke had quit his job, moved by the desire to travel on and see the world, he said. He said no word to any man about the motive behind that desire, very naturally, for he was not the kind of a man who opened the door of his heart.
I'd hit a blind woman as quick as I would a one-armed man!" Lambert felt that this was the place to interfere. He called Taterleg. "All right, Duke; I'm a-comin'," Taterleg answered.
Taterleg put the letter next his lung as the nearest approach to that sentimental portion of his anatomy, and sighed long and loud as he buttoned his garment. "You said you'd put off goin' till mornin', Duke?" "Sure I will." "I'll throw my things in a sack and be ready to hit the breeze with you after breakfast. I can write back to the boss for my time."
"I've been a-squarin' off to write," Taterleg replied, "but I don't seem to git the time." He opened his vest to put the letter away close to his heart, it seemed, that it might remind him of his intention and square him quite around to the task. But there was no pocket on the side covering his heart.
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