"I'll see. Say, Ward, do you think you could shave off those whiskers if I got everything ready for you? I don't like you to look like old Sourdough. Or maybe I could do it. I—I used to shave daddy's neck, sometimes."
Ward ran his fingers thoughtfully over his hairy cheeks. "I expect I do look like a prehistoric ancestor. I'll see what I can do about it. I set my own leg; I guess I can shave myself. You're a great doctor, Wilhemina. You knocked that cold up to a peak, all right. But—I don't believe you'd better tackle barbering, my dear girl."
Billy Louise pouted her lips at him. She could afford to pout now: Ward was so like himself that she did not worry over him at all. She also felt that she could afford to badger him into telling her some of the things she wanted to know.
"Where did you hang Buck?" she asked naïvely.
"Huh?" Ward's eyes bored into hers with his intent look, trying to read her thoughts.
"Where was it you hanged Buck Olney?"
"Nowhere. I put the fear of the Lord into him, that's all. How did you hear about it?"
"From you." Billy Louise was maddeningly calm. "You told me all about it yesterday. And about those cattle in the corral up here. I found them yesterday myself, Ward—only it seems a month ago!—down in the Cove."
"Did you?"
"Yes, and I drove them up to the corral and read the riot act to Marthy and Charlie Fox—"