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Updated: June 27, 2025
"Is that so?" yammered Swing, now over his head as far as repartee was concerned. "Is that so? What you gassing about Arizona for thisaway? You gonna renig on the trip?" "I'll bet there's plenty of good jobs we can find right here in Farewell," dodged Racey. "And vicinity," he amended. "Yep, Swing, old-timer, I'll bet the Bar S or the Cross-in-a-box would hire us just too quick. Shore they would.
Racey extended a long arm past Peaches' nose and pointed up the street toward the Starlight Saloon. A man was backing out through the doorway. Another followed, walking forward. Between them they were carrying a third man. The hat of the third man was over his face. His arms, which hung down, jerked like the arms of a doll.
"Pleeceman?" said Racey. "No, I don't mean that. The policeman only takes them to prison, he doesn't keep them when they are once there. But let's get on with the toast, or our tea'll be all cold before we're ready for it." It was no good thinking of splitting the slices, we had to make the best of them, thick as they were. And it took all our planningness to do without a toasting-fork.
He knew he couldn't sue out a mandatory injunction yet, knew it damn well, but he didn't think I knew it, damn his ornery soul." "Oh, he's slick, Luke Tweezy is," said Racey Dawson, "but like most slick gents he thinks everybody else is a fool." "He makes a mistake once in a while," grunted Dolan. At which Racey looked up sharply. "A mistake," he repeated. "There's an idea.
They read: Look in Racey Dawson's room for what killed Bull. The communication was unsigned. Racey handed it back to Jake Rule. "Got any idea who put it in yore office?" he asked. Jake shook his head. "I dunno," he said. "The window was open. Anybody passing could 'a' throwed it in." "You satisfied now, Jake, or " Racey did not complete the sentence.
At this juncture hoofbeats sounded sharply on the trail behind them. Racey turned in a flesh, his right hand dropping. But it was only Lanpher and the stranger riding out of a belt of pines whose deep and lusty soughing had drowned the noise of their approach. Lanpher and his comrade rode by at a trot. The former mumbled a greeting to Racey but barely glanced at the girl.
"H-old," said I. "Racey, how dreadfully vulgar you are." "You're vrezy vulgar to be so c'oss," said Racey. "I don't believe you know what 'vulgar' means," I said.
"Racey," I said, giving him a little shake, "how can you be so rude?" But Miss Goldy-hair didn't seem vexed, though her face got a little red. "Never mind, Audrey," she said. "Some one must have said something before him that he has remembered. But it doesn't matter there's no harm in any one saying it, because it's true, at least, true in a way.
Lookit, I ain't trying to pry, y' understand. I'm the least prying feller in four states, but this here ranch of yores which ain't got anything to do with the 88 and won't cut any corners off the Bar S might it by any chance overlap on Mr. Dale's li'l ranch?" "Overlap the Dale ranch! What you talkin' about?" "I dunno," Racey replied, simply. "I'm trying to find out."
"Haley ain't much better than a nester," interrupted Racey. "He don't own more'n forty cows. What you want with two punchers for a small bunch like that and at fifty per?" "I know she ain't much of a ranch now," admitted Jack Harpe. "But everything has to have a beginning. I'm figuring on a right smart growth for the Rafter H within the next year or two."
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