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Updated: June 6, 2025
He seemed to understand, although he was not looking her way. "Don't worrit the gal, Ma," he said, in his gentle fashion, so that Rosebud felt like dropping the bandages and fleeing from the room. "Say, jest git right to it an' fix me up. I 'low ther's li'ble to be work doin' 'fore this night's out." "God a-mussy, I hope not, Seth, boy!" the old woman said, with a deep intake of breath.
And when, recovering herself, she looked up at the men she saw that they were braced, with feet apart, supporting each other. Then, in the roar of the storm she heard Buck's voice shouting in the Padre's ear. "Guess ther's more to come yet," he said with a profound significance. She saw the Padre's nod, and she wondered at the fresh danger he saw ahead.
"Ther's an old woman to hum that thinks a sight o' me I reckon, myself, I'm good fur somethin' besides fillin' a hole in the ground."
He set it down upon his blankets. "Wer'll we put this?" he asked abruptly. Ralph looked at it with his thoughtful eyes. "It needs considerin'," he observed. And he leant himself against a heavy table which stood by the wall. "We ain't opened it since last fall," said Nick presently, after a long and steady survey of the object of their solicitude. "No." "Ther's a deal in it."
Ther's Crank Heufer, the squarehead stage robber, shot up more folks, women, too, in Montana than 'ud populate a full-sized city. Ther's Kid Blaney, the faro sharp, who broke penitentiary in Dakota twelve months back. Ther's Macaddo, the train 'hold-up, mighty badly wanted in Minnesota. Ther's Stormy Longton, full of scalps to his gun, a bad man by nature.
They ain't easy handlin'. They got to be bro't up reg'lar, an' their stummicks ain't to be pizened with no wrong sort o' vittles. Ther's such a heap o' things to kids o' that age it makes me nigh sweat at the tho't. Howsum, Zip's down an' out, an' we got to see him right someways.
Kiddies mostly cry because they don't understand, an' grown women because they do. Anyway, neither of 'em need to cry, if they only get busy an' think a while. Ther' ain't a thing in this life calls for a tear from a living soul, not even a stomachful of moist mud, 'cos, you see, ther's Someone who fixes everything the way it should go, an' it's the right way.
Guess I've a brief along with me that's to be set right into your hands, an' when you've eaten the stuff wrote ther', why, you need to light a pipe with it, an' see ther's none left over. I've been takin' a hand up to now. But ther's reasons why I've cut out. It's for you now. Can we parley?" The trader's cordiality had become absorbed in a deeply serious regard. He was guessing hard.
He kep' Brother Bill out, too, for a right smart spell." Tom was turning the memory pages half-absently. "Let me see," he said. "Didn't I hear something about your whaling the everlasting daylights out of Bledsoe sometime last winter?" Japheth hung his head after the manner of one who has spoiled a good argument by overstating it. "That ther's jest like me," he said disgustedly.
My wits seem somehow gone, an' I don't guess as you'll ever forgive me. Ther's only one way I ken help you, little gal. 'Tain't right. 'Tain't honest, I know, but I guess I'm weak-kneed 'bout things now. I love you that bad I jest want to marry you. Guess I've loved you right along. I loved you when I picked you up in these arms nigh seven years ago.
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