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I’m jus’ small stuff, not worth botherin’ ’bout by their reckonin’, now I ain’t got anythin’ left them buzzards can pick offen m’ bones. They’s sittin’ tight an’ gittin’ fat right there." "Then it’s all set." Drew tossed Anse a towel. "Climb out and we’ll get started!" "Doin what?" "You’ve worked horses, and they can use another wrangler on the Range.
Th’ stinkin’ polecat of a Reb was gonna draw on you! Told you, they’s all alike. Th’ war ain’t over; we jus’ gotta keep on lickin’ ’em. Give us room, an’ we’ll do it again—now!" Anse’s face was green-white under the weathering, save for the wound on his jaw. He was watching Muller as if the sergeant, rather than his men, was the focal point of any future attack. "You—Stevens—shut your trap!"
For a week Aunt Dilsey was unusually crusty, and all her attempts at cookery invariably failed, plainly showing her mind to be in a disturbed state. "I don’t keer," she would say, "if the cakes is all dough and the ’sarves all froth. They’s good enough for her, any day."
"Soldiers!" Fenner sniffed. "Wonder what they’s doin’, hittin’ town now. Wal, that ain’t no hair off m’ skull. Me, I’m gonna git Tar his treat. Promised him some time back he could have a bait o’ oats—oats an’ salt, an’ jus’ a smidgen o’ corn cake. That thar mule likes t’ favor his stomach. Kells, he ought t’ have them vittles put together right ’bout now.
They ain’t got no spite ’gainst nobody as wants to rub ’em down an’ give ’em a feed. But some hosses what git brung in here—they’s white-eyed an’ randy, does you give ’em a straight stare. For that there’s always a reason. Mostly you can see what it is when you look good an’ steady at th’ men who was ridin’ ’em!" Drew laughed. "Glad I passed your test, Callie. Guess I’ll turn in now.
"Yes," leered the old woman—and she grinned the whole horrid length of her empty gums—"the most of ’em does. But you must shet your eyes to it. The moment they know you swallow it, they’s wuthless, like horses that has run away once." "Hark!" said Eudora. "Ain’t that wheels?" "It be," answered her mother. "It be that old Ma’am Yellett after her gov’ment." Mrs. Yellett And Her "Gov’ment"
Why a man wants to git hisself all stuck up with cinders an’ cover territory faster than th’ Good Lord ever intended him to travel—that’s some stupid thinkin’ I can’t take to. A good hoss, maybe a wagon, does a man want to do some tradin’ like Don Cazar—that’s right enough. But them trains, they’s pure pizen an’ a full soppin’ keg o’ it!" Drew looked about him.
Unusual colorin’ all right." "He put a white stud—white as milk—to run with some light buckskin mares back ’fore th’ war. First colt out of that thar breedin’ was that Oro hoss. Never got ’nother like him; he’s special. Shows his heels good, too. They’s gonna race him out on th’ flats tomorrow if anyone is fool ’nough to say as he has a hoss as can beat Oro.
But there were no Yanks or Rebs any more, no riders or marchers in blue and gray—just United States troops. "There’s a garrison out to the Mesa camp. An’ Cap’n Bayliss, he don’t take kindly to Rebs. You see, it’s this way.... Out in th’ breaks there’s a bunch of Rebs-leastways they claim as how they’s Rebs—still holdin’ out.
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