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Updated: June 5, 2025
They tried to kill me." Webb turned to Yankie. "You didn't leave this man alone overnight with that bunch of beeves for Major Strong?" "Sure I did. Why not?" demanded the foreman boldly. "We'll not argue that," said the boss curtly, "Go hunt you another job. You'll draw yore last pay-check from the Flying V Y to-day." "If you're loaded up with a notion that some one else could do better "
In the immobility of his figure and the steadiness of the blue eyes was a deadly menace. Yankie was no coward. He would go through if he had to. But there was still time to draw back if he chose. He was not exactly afraid; on the other hand, he did not feel at all easy. He contrived a casual, careless laugh. "All right, kid. I don't have to rob the cradle to fill my private graveyard.
Unless you want to have yore pelt hung up to dry, keep away from any of the Flying V Y ranges. As for Yankie, if you go back to yore hole you'll likely find him. I kicked the hound out two hours ago." "Like you did me three years ago," suggested Clanton, looking straight at the grizzled cowman.
"Why didn't you stay there?" he asked with bland innocence. Yankie grew apoplectic. He did not care to discuss the reasons why he had first gone to the Strip or the reasons why he had come away. This girl-faced boy was the only person who had asked for a bill of particulars.
"Maybe you'd better have let him down easy. Joe Yankie is as revengeful as an Injun." "Let him down easy!" exploded the cattleman. "When he's just pulled off a raw deal by which I lose a bunch of forty fat three-year-olds. I ought to have gunned him in his tracks." "If you had proof, but you haven't.
He looked straight at Yankie. "Don't get biggety, Joe. I'm not askin' you or any other man whether I can ride to rescue a friend when he's in trouble. You don't own these broncs, an' if you did we'd take 'em just the same." The voice of Wrayburn was still gentle, but it no longer pleaded for understanding. The words were clean-cut and crisp. "I'll show you!" flung back the foreman with an oath.
It's plain enough now. After his rookus with the old man, Yankie must have got a seventy-three an' waited in the chaparral. It just happened he was lyin' hid close to where we met Clanton. It beats the Dutch." "An' if Jim hadn't escaped he'd have been hanged for killin' Webb." "That's right, sheriff. On my testimony, too. Say, let me go to the Governor with these papers an' git the pardon.
Slowly the horse slid forward to a ribbon of trail that led less precipitously to the camp. "'Lo, Joe. Fall off an' rest," a one-armed man invited. By the light of the camp-fire he was a hard-faced, wall-eyed citizen with a jaw like a steel trap. Yankie dismounted and straddled to the fire. "How-how; I'm heap hungry, boys. Haven't et since mornin'." "We're 'most out of grub.
Webb knocked the bark off'n this country when it was green, an' you got to rise up early an' travel fast if you want to slip over anything on him," "That's whatever," agreed Yankie. "I don't love the old man a whole lot. I've stood about all from him I'm intendin' to. One of these days it's goin' to be him or me. But the old man's there every jump of the road.
"He's a straight-up man, Homer Webb is. His word is good all over Texas. He'll sure do to take along," said Billie by way of recommendation. "And Joe Yankie does he stack up A 1 too?" asked the boy dryly. "I never liked Joe. It ain't only that he'll run a sandy on you if he can or that he's always ridin' any one that will stand to be picked on. Joe's sure a bully.
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