“How big bunch cattle you like buy? How much money you want?”
He shook his head dejectedly.
“More money nor I can raise, Prairie Flower. Five—ten thousand dollars—maybe more.” He watched the effect of his words narrowly. She did not seem startled by the size of the sums he mentioned. He added: “There’s nothin’ in monkeyin’ with just a few.”
“I got de money, and I gift it to you. My heart is right to you, white man!” she said passionately.
“Do you mean it, Prairie Flower?”
“Yas, but don’t tell Susie.”
He watched her going up the path, her hips wobbling, her step heavy, and he hated her. Her love irritated him; her devotion was ridiculous. He saw in her only a means to an end, and he was without scruples or pity.
“She ain’t no more to me nor a dumb brute,” he said contemptuously.
Smith felt that he was able to foretell with considerable accuracy the nature of his interview with Susie upon their meeting, and her opening words did not fall short of his expectations.
“You’re all right, you are!” she said in her high voice. “I’d stick to a pal like you through thick and thin, I would! What did you pull out like that for anyhow?”