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Updated: May 21, 2025
Waco, seated opposite, had drifted back into a stupor, head sunk forward and arms relaxed. The stub of his cigarette lay smouldering between his feet. Lorry thought of the girl's appeal. "Just what started you to workin' this holdup game?" he queried. Waco's head came up. "You joshin' me?" "Nope." "You wouldn't believe a hard-luck story, so what's the use?" "Ain't any.
Its head passed clear through his body, completely impaling him; and with a death-whoop, the noble Indian fell from his horse to the ground. But his enemy fell at the same time. The arrow of the cibolero was too late to save, though not to avenge, the Waco's fall.
No one seemed to want for food, tobacco, or whiskey. The "boss," a sharp-featured young man, aggressive and apparently educated, asked Waco some questions which the tramp answered lamely. The boss, eager for recruits of Waco's stamp, nevertheless demurred until Waco reiterated the statement that he could cook, was a good cook and had earned good money. "I'll give you a renewal of your card.
Waco was busy in the kitchen when he came in. After the noon meal, Pat again climbed the hill. He seemed worried about something. When he returned he told Waco to hitch the pintos to the buckboard. "Get your coat," he told Waco. "We're going over to Stacey." Waco's hands trembled. "Say, boss, if you don't mind " "Get your coat. I'll talk to Buck. You needn't to worry. I'll square you with Buck.
They had agreed to say nothing about the tramp's whereabouts just so long as he made himself useful about the ranch. They would give him a chance. But, familiar with his kind, they were mildly skeptical as to Waco's sincerity of purpose. If he took to drinking, or if Buck Hardy heard of his whereabouts, he would have to go. Meanwhile, he earned his keep.
"'After Easy Aaron holds forth for two hours, Waco preevails on him with a six-shooter to pause for breath. Waco's tried twenty times to get Easy Aaron to stop long enough to let the Stranglers get down a verbal bet, but that advocate declines to be restrained. He treats Waco's efforts with scorn an' rides him down like he, Easy Aaron, is a bunch of cattle on a stampede.
There is no bitterness in this, no desire to offend; it is simply a business proposition by a business man who realizes that Baylor is a disgrace to the community, is playing Old Man of the Sea to Waco's Sinbad. The town could well afford to give it $100,000 to "pull its freight."
We can use you here." Waco did as he was told. They drove out of the yard. Waco leaped down and closed the gate. The pintos shook themselves into the harness and trotted down the faintly marked new road. The buckboard swayed and jolted. Something rubbed against Waco's hip. He glanced down and saw Pat's gun on the seat between them. Pat said nothing. He was thinking hard.
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