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Surely you won't try to go back the way you came?" "When Wildfire left that country I left it. We can't back." "Then you've no people no one you care for?" she asked, in sweet seriousness. "There's no one. I'm an orphan. My people were lost in an Indian massacre with a wagon-train crossin' Wyomin'. A few escaped, an' I was one of the youngsters.
Here it is " "Sure who!" rasped a voice close to the sheriff's ear. "I mean I said Here's the doggone key! I was thinkin' of a feller I know'd down to Wyomin'. Tex Tex Smith, er some such of a name it was. I mistrusted you was him, an' mebbe you be fer all I know. I don't savvy none of you whatever." "Get a move on, Sam!" "Me! I'm gone!
"Well, just to show you fellers you can't queer me, I will tell about this here lynchin'," Buck declared, after a pause. "'Twas back in Wyomin', 'bout five years ago," Buck began, "an' I was workin' for the Lazy I. An' rustlers was good an' plenty.
"I seen the chief," he said, "and told him what you told me to tell him. When I got it all out, he says to me, 'The white women ain't here; they're with the Wyomin' band, and the Wyomin' band's up in Canada. Now, he says, 'the band'll come south in the spring. So tell Colonel Cummin's, if he don't do no hangin', I'll send the white women home then." A low groan came from behind the stove.
We rode the Cimarron together, an' the Arkansaw, an' we was the only straight punchers in the Long Bar C outfit that was drove out of Wyomin'.... His beat never forked a hoss or coiled a rope. An' shorer'n hell, pard, I'd been a rustler but fer Panhandle. More'n onct he throwed his gun fer me an " "Say, Blink, I'll have to choke you," interrupted Pan, laughing.
"That's what we allus called Bill Jordan back in Wyomin'." "Why, he talks all the time," said Whitey. "That's th' reason we called him Silent," Dan answered, chuckling.
Sary deigned no reply to the information but vented a bit of her ire against the new-comers by shrugging her great shoulders and saying: "Ef Ah w'ar you-all, Miss Brewster, Ah'd shore pitch them trunks clar over th' line inta Wyomin' state whar th' Injuns kin scramble fer th' fancy duds!" "Oh, Sary, I smell the cherry-dumplings scorching!" cried Mrs.
Jim scratched his sandy head and looked at his comrade, a little gnarled fellow, like the bleached root of a tree. He seemed all legs. "You hear, you Wyomin' galoot," he said to Jim. "Them shoes goes on Whang right gentle." Jim grinned, and turned to speak to his mustang. "Whang, the law's laid down an' we wanta see how much hoss sense you hev."
He's an Injun, but he's a good old scout, an' I hate to think of him walkin' all the way to Montana while some damn Greaser is spendin' my hard earned samolians that I give him for carfare. It's a long walk to Montana. Plumb through Colorado an' Wyomin' an' an' New Jersey, or somewheres. Mebbe he's in there now.
"Thanks, Miss Tharon," said Curly in his soft Southern drawl, "if you feel that-a-way about it, w'y, I don't care what no little yellow-headed whipper-snapper from up Wyomin' way says to th' contrary." Billy was a bit abashed, but he stubbornly supported his contention that the stranger was a bad-man from Texas.
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