"No, I don't reckon much she'll ever come back. She ain't got nothing to look back to here but hard times and shootin' scrapes--nobody to 'sociate with and wear low-neckid dresses like women with money want to." "Not much chance for it here--you're right." "You'd 'a' had it nice and quiet there with them sheep if you'd 'a' been able to go pardners with Vesta like you planned, old Nick Hargus in the pen and the rest of them fellers cleaned out." "Yes, I guess there'll be peace around the ranch for some time to come." "Well, you made the peace around there, Duke; if it hadn't 'a' been for you they'd 'a' broke Vesta up and run her out by now." "You had as much to do with bringin' them to time as I did, Taterleg." "Me? Look me over, Duke; feel of my hide. Do you see any knife scars in me, or feel any bullet holes anywhere? I never done nothing but ride along that fence, hopin' for a somebody to start something. They never done it." "They knew you too well, old feller." "Knowed _me_!" said Taterleg. "Huh!" On again in quiet, Glendora in sight when they topped a hill. Taterleg seemed to be thinking deeply; his face was sentimentally serious. "Purty girl," he said in a pleasant vein of musing. "Which one?" "Vesta. I like 'em with a little more of a figger, a little thicker in some places and wider in others, but she's trim and she's tasty, and her heart's pure gold." "You're right it is, Taterleg," Lambert agreed, keeping his eyes straight ahead as they rode on. "You're aimin' to come back in the spring and go pardners with her on the sheep deal, ain't you, Duke?" "I don't expect I'll ever come back, Taterleg." "Well," said Taterleg abstractedly, "I don't know." They rode past the station, the bullet-scarred rain barrel behind which Tom Hargus took shelter in the great battle still standing in its place, and past the saloon, the hitching-rack empty before it, for this was the round-up season--nobody was in town. "There's that slab-sided, spider-legged Alta Wood standin' out on the porch," said Taterleg disgustedly, falling behind Lambert, reining around on the other side to put him between the lady and himself. "You'd better stop and bid her good-bye," Lambert suggested. Taterleg pulled his hat over his eyes to shut out the sight of her, turned his head, ignoring her greeting. When they were safely past he cast a cautious look behind. "I guess that settled _her_ hash!" he said. "Yes, and I'd like to wad a handful of chewin' gum in them old bangs before I leave this man's town!" "You've broken her chance for a happy married life with Jedlick, Taterleg. Your heart's as hard as a bone." "The worst luck I can wish her is that Jedlick'll come back," he said, turning to look at her as he spoke. Alta waved her hand. "She's a forgivin' little soul, anyway," Lambert said.