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Updated: May 27, 2025
His face hardened. "But you come through, an' I'll see you git somethin' for the old woman. An' yoreself, too. What's more, you can stay aft an' wait on cabin. If they lay a finger on you, I'll lay a fist on them, an' worse." "You ain't kiddin' me?" "I don't kid, my lad. I don't waste time that way." Sandy stood up, his face lighting.
I means ye don't das't trust yoreself with me because ye're affrighted lest ye comes ter love me more'n ye does ther man ye married in sich unthoughted haste. I don't blame ye fer bein' heedful." "Love ye!" she exclaimed, as the colour deepened in her cheeks and neck, then went sweeping out again in the white and still passion of outraged indignation.
"Ef ye'd acted any other fashion," came her prompt and spirited declaration when the recital reached its end, "I couldn't nuther love ye ner esteem ye. Ye tuck blame on yoreself ter save a woman." For a time she sat there gazing out through the window, her thoughts busy with the grim game in which this man whom she loved had been so desperately involved.
"Ye forewarned me, Bas.... We both of us spoke out p'int blank ... erbout ther gal ... an' we both went on bein' ... plum friendly." "Thet war ther best way, Cal." "Yes.... Then ye proffered ter safeguard me.... Ye didn't hev no need ter imperil yoreself ... but ye would hev hit so." "I reckon ye'd hev done likewise." "No.
You got another guess, Racey, and it's me that will get the most out of that laugh. If it's like I say, even if Lanpher and Tweezy are trying a game you don't get paid a nickel if Jack Harpe and his cattle ain't in on the deal. You done put in the Jack Harpe end of it yoreself. I heard you. So did Tom Loudon, and Swing, too. Jack Harpe. Yeah. He is the tune you was playing alla time.
"Ef they did," he answered, candidly, "I reckon hit would be hangin' or ther penitenshery fer me but they hain't agoin' ter." "I don't seek ter hinder ye none," she told him in a faltering voice, "despite hit's goin' ter nigh kill me ter see ye go. Somehow hit seems like I wouldn't be so skeered ef ye war guilty yoreself ... but ter hev ye risk ther gallers fer somethin' ye didn't nuver do "
"I'm shore sorry," he went on, "but I'd like to call off that proposition about you riding for me. Coupla men used to ride for me one time are coming back unexpected. You know. Naturally you know how it is yoreself I'd like to have these fellers riding for me, so if it's alla same to you two gents we'll call it off. But I wanna be fair. You expected a job on my ranch. I told you you could have it.
A primeval savagery burned in his blood, but like most "bad" men he had that vein of caution in his make-up which seeks to find its victim at disadvantage. He knew Hart too well to doubt his word. One cannot ride the range with a man year in, year out, without knowing whether the iron is in his arteries. "Declarin' yoreself in on this, are you?" he demanded ominously, showing his teeth.
"All ye've got ter do air ter keep in tech with me so any time I needs ye I kin git ye. I hain't plum made up my mind yit." The other shadowy and hunched figure growled unpleasantly, then bit from a tobacco twist and spat before he answered. "I hain't got no hankerin' fer no more laywayin's," he objected. "Ef ye resolves that he needs killin', why don't ye do hit yoreself?
Sure, you'll remember it." "Some day I'll make yore whole damned outfit sorry for this," the big hook-nosed man threatened blackly. "No livin' man can laugh at me and get away with it." "I'm laughin' at you, Dug. We all are. Wish you could see yoreself as we see you. A little water takes a lot o' tuck outa some men who are feelin' real biggity."
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