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Updated: June 27, 2025
I used to be the ladies coming to look, and Tom was the footman to open the door, and Racey, dressed up with one of my skirts, was mother, and sometimes Pierson, showing the ladies the rooms.
From here we'll go get yore hoss and see you safely on yore way." "What'll you gimme to tell you?" inquired the desperate Bull. "Nothin' not a thin dime, feller. C'mon, let's go." "Nun-no, not yet. I say, suppose you lemme talk to Jack Harpe first myself. Just you lemme get my share out of him, and I'll tell you all you wanna know." "When you going to him?" Racey demanded, suspiciously.
"Aw right, I'll take Swing Tunstall," Racey hastened to say. "I meant yore own two hands," demurred Mr. Saltoun. "I know you did, but I meant the other kind. Listen, do you want Lanpher and Tweezy to get this ranch?" " it, no!" "Then gimme Swing Tunstall." "Take him. Need anybody else? Wouldn't you like all the rest of the outfit, and me, too?" "My Gawd, no. This is a job requirin' brains."
We must have looked rather funny Racey with a skirt of mine and a white apron of Pierson's, Tom with a towel tied round him to look like Banks in the pantry, and I with an old shawl and a bonnet very much on one side, with a long feather, which we had got out of our "dressing-up" things.
"No, then maybe you've heard how and why it come to be dug and all?" "I ain't deaf, neither." Racey smiled his approval. "I always said you had all yore senses except the common variety, Peaches." "Hop ahead with yore private talk," grunted the badgered gambler. "Gimme time, gimme time. It don't cost anything. Whadda you think of that hole, Peaches?"
"Can I take him now, Judge?" inquired Chuck Morgan, referring to the dead man. "Any time," nodded Dolan. Racey Dawson, whose eyes that day were missing nothing, saw that Jack Harpe was looking steadily at Luke Tweezy. Luke's nod was barely perceptible. "Where were you thinking of taking him, Chuck?" was Tweezy's query. "Moccasin Spring," Chuck replied, laconically.
Tom laughed too I must say in some ways Tom was a very good little boy in spite of his sore throat, and Racey was standing with his head on one side considering what more he would wish for in Miss Goldy-hair's basket, when wasn't it funny? there came a little tap at the door, and almost before we could say "come in," it opened, and oh, how delighted we were in walked Miss Goldy-hair herself!
I was too angry and unhappy to eat, but Tom and Racey, though looking somewhat soberer than usual, ate with a good appetite. Towards the end of breakfast I found I had no handkerchief, and I jumped up and went to the chest of drawers in the other room to fetch one. There a great surprise met me. Pinned to the top handkerchief of the little pile was a note addressed to me, "Miss Audrey Gower."
"I'll have to be careful how I sit down now," he remarked, jocularly, to Rack Slimson. "You ready? Aw right. You know the way to the Starlight's back door." The back door of the saloon was wide open. They entered on tiptoe, the proprietor in the lead. "Remember," whispered Racey, when he discovered the back room to be empty, "remember, I'm right behind you. Keep on yore toes."
"Careful, careful," cautioned Racey, promptly kicking the lawyer's horse in the ribs. "There's ladies in the house. You get a-holt of yore tongue." Luke Tweezy obeyed the command literally.
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