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Updated: June 12, 2025
Racey removed his eyes from the slack-chinned countenance of the saloon-keeper to thin-faced, foxy-nosed Luke Tweezy. Luke's little eyes met his. "You saw this stranger, Luke?" he asked. Luke Tweezy nodded. "We all saw him." "He was playing draw with Honey Hoke and Peaches Austin and me," Doc Coffin offered, oilily. "And the stranger?" amended Racey.
But Lanpher overlooked the poorly veiled insult, and switched his gaze to Molly Dale. "I just rid over to say," he told her, "that if yore paw is still set on renewing the mortgage when he comes back from Marysville he'll have to see me and Luke Tweezy at the 88. We done bought that mortgage from the bank." Molly Dale said nothing.
If Luke Tweezy had not quickwittedly smacked the animal between the ears with the butt of his quirt it would have continued the motion to a backfall and rolled its rider out. "Tough luck," mourned Racey, sorry to observe that Luke had contrived to ward off an accident. "I was expecting to see that horn dislocate yore latest meal. If you ain't quite so set on going to the house you can flit."
He wiggled his toes luxuriously and laughed. "Gawd," said he. "Think o' that old skinflint buying nearly two bottles of whiskey! Bet that'll lay heavy on his mind for as much as a month. What you lookin' at me like that for?" "Yeah, I'd ask if I was you. I shore would. What was yore bright idea of tellin' Luke Tweezy we were gonna ride for Jack Harpe so's to watch him?" "So he'd know it."
It remained equally silent when they entered. McFluke, behind the bar, wearing a black eye and a puffed nose, nodded to them civilly. In chairs ranged round the walls sat an assortment of men Peaches Austin, Luke Tweezy, Jack Harpe, Doc Coffin, Honey Hoke, and Lanpher. The latter was nursing a slung right arm.
They were, it seemed, journeying homeward from the 88 whither they had gone in an endeavour to persuade Lanpher and Tweezy to sell the Dale mortgage. "Tweezy, huh?" said Racey. "He's just left here." "He must 'a' rode like the devil," said Mr. Saltoun. "He was in the office with Lanpher when we left." "I thought I noticed a feller off to the south of us as we come along," observed Loudon.
Layers of dust almost completely concealed the original colour of the caked and matted hide of Luke Tweezy's well-conditioned horse. It was evident that Luke Tweezy had come from afar. In common with most range riders Racey Dawson possessed an automatic eye to detail.
No trial about it." "Here's another letter, Judge," said Racey Dawson. The Judge read the other letter, and again fixed Luke Tweezy with his eye. "This ain't a letter exactly," said Judge Dolan.
"I want to pay her money to go away quietly," said Tweezy, switching from his sleeve to his handkerchief. "Here she is," interrupted Molly. "Tell her." "How do, ma'am," said Luke to the wet-eyed widow. "I guess it ain't necessary for me to go through a lot of explanations with you.
We was gonna foreclose. In order to save trouble all round he made the ranch over to us." "You mean to tell me Dale did that just to save trouble?" burst out Racey. "Just because he liked you two fellers and wanted to make it as easy as possible for you? Aw, hell, Tweezy. Aw, hell again. Yo're as poor a liar as yore side-kicker McFluke."
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