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Updated: April 30, 2025
"We could pack over to the Mazatzals an' live thar till this blows over." "Thank y'u, Uncle John. Y'u're kind and good. But I'll stay with my father. His troubles are mine." "Ahuh! ... Wal, I might hev reckoned so.... Ellen, how do you stand on this hyar sheep an' cattle question?" "I think what's fair for one is fair for another. I don't like sheep as much as I like cattle.
Ellen heard Colter's spurs jangle, as if he had uneasily shifted his feet. "Where's dad an' Uncle Jackson?" asked Ellen. A silence pregnant enough to augment Ellen's dread finally broke to Colter's voice, somehow different. "Shore they're back on the trail. An' we're to meet them where we left Tad." "Are yu goin' away again?" "I reckon.... An', Ellen, y'u're goin' with us."
I'll walk down with y'u.... Suppose y'u're on the way to Grass Valley?" "Yes; I've relatives there," he returned. He dreaded her next question, which he suspected would concern his name. But she did not ask. Taking up her rifle she turned away. Jean strode ahead to her side. "Reckon if you walk I won't ride." So he found himself beside a girl with the free step of a Mountaineer.
"Wal, I'll be dog-goned!" ejaculated Daggs, thoughtfully, as he stroked his long mustache. "I'll say to them what I've said to y'u," went on Ellen. "I'll tell dad to make y'u let me alone. I wouldn't marry one of y'u y'u loafers to save my life. I've my suspicions about y'u. Y'u're a bad lot." Daggs changed subtly. The whole indolent nonchalance of the man vanished in an instant.
She knew that long before she saw Isbel she would hear his horse. It was altogether unlikely that he would come on foot. "Shore, Ellen Jorth, y'u're a queer girl," she mused. "I reckon I wasn't well acquainted with y'u." Beneath her yawned a wonderful deep canyon, rugged and rocky with but few pines on the north slope, thick with dark green timber on the south slope.
"Wal, Miss Jorth, I reckon you mean we're a bad lot of sheepmen?" he queried, in the cool, easy speech of a Texan. "No," flashed Ellen. "Shore I don't say sheepmen. I say y'u're a BAD LOT." "Oh, the hell you say!" Daggs spoke as he might have spoken to a man; then turning swiftly on his heel he left her. Outside he encountered Ellen's father.
Thing is, to burn the wind out of this town while we have the chance." "I see. It won't help us any to be spilling lead into a sheriff's posse. That would ce'tainly put us in the wrong." "Now y'u're shouting. If we're honest men why don't we surrender peaceable? That's the play the 'king' is going to make in this town.
"It hasn't got any bar," said Blue. "Y'u're shore?" "Yes, I reckon," replied Blue. "Hell, man! Aren't y'u takin' a terrible chance?" queried Blaisdell. Blue's answer to that was a look that brought the blood to Blaisdell's face.
"You're a friend of Jim McWilliams, aren't you? Are you going to sneak away and let these curs hang him?" Denver flushed. "Y'u're dead right, Miss Helen. I guess I'll see it out with you. What's the orders?" "I want you to help me organize a defense. Get all Mac's friends stirred up to make a fight for him. Bring as many of them in to see me during the day as you can.
"By both." "That's right strange," he mused aloud. "For judging by some of your ways you're the spinster Miss Messiter was telling me about, but judging by your looks y'u're only the prettiest and sassiest twenty-year-old in Wyoming." And with this shot he fled, to see what transformation he could effect with the aid of a whiskbroom, a tin pan of alkali water and a roller towel.
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