Yes, an' they got him locked up down in the
wool-warehouse. What's yourn?" The cowboy ranged himself beside the
Texan.
"A little red liquor, I reckon." The men poured their drinks and the
Texan glanced toward the other: "You ain't mournin' none over Purdy,
Curly?"
"Who, me?" the man laughed. "Not what you c'd notice, I ain't. An'
they's plenty others ain't, too. I don't hear no lamentations wailin'
a-bustin' in on the festchivities. It was over the pilgrim's girl.
They say how Purdy tried to----"
"Yes, he did. But the pilgrim got there first. I been thinkin',
Curly. It's plumb shameful for to hold the pilgrim for doin' what one
of us would of had to do sooner or later. Choteau County has stood for
him about as long as it could, an' a damn sight longer than it ought
to. His work was gettin' so rotten it stunk, I could tell you about a
sage-brush corral an' some runnin'-iron work over on the south
slope----"
"Yes," broke in the other, "an' there's a hell of a lot of I X an' Bear
Paw Pool cows that show'd up, brandin' time, 'thout no calves."
The Texan nodded: "Exactly. Now, what I was goin' on to say: The grand
jury don't set for a couple or three months yet. An' when they do,
they'll turn the pilgrim loose so quick it'll make yer head swim.
Then, there's the girl.
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