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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"The Gringos"

"
"And I know you bullied me into it," Dade retorted, with some acrimony.
He had danced until his feet burned with fatigue, and there was the
reaction from a month of worry to roughen his mood. Also, he had yet to
digest the amazing fact that the sight of Teresita had not hurt him so
very much--not one quarter as much as he had expected it would do. Now,
here was Jack proposing to leave, just when staying would be rather
agreeable!
"Well--but times have changed, since then. I'm ready to go." Jack
pulled on a boot and stamped his foot snugly into it. "What's more, I'm
going!"
"You'll eat, first, won't you?"
Jack passed over the sarcasm. "No, sir, I won't. I'm not going to
swallow another mouthful on this ranch. I held myself down till that
damned fiesta was over, because I didn't want folks to say I was scared
off. But now--I'm going, just as quick as the Lord'll let me get a
saddle on that yellow mustang."
"Why, you--"
"Why, I nothing! I'm going. If you want to go along, you can; but I
won't drag you off by the heels. You can suit yourself." He stamped
himself into the other boot, went over and splashed cold water into his
eyes and upon his head, shook off the drops that clung to his hair, made
a few violent passes with towel and brush, and reached for his sombrero.
"It's a long ways to ride on an empty stomach," Dade reminded him dryly.
"We can stop at Jerry Simpson's and eat.


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