She replied in a strained voice:
“Pete Mullendore, he—”
A gust of wind blew the shoulder cape back and he saw her bare arm with the sleeve of her dress hanging by a shred.
“—he did this?”
“Yes. He—insulted—me—I—can’t—tell—you—what—he—said.”
“And then?”
“I scratched him and bit him. I fought him all over the place. He was chokin’ me. I got to a quirt and struck him on the head—with the handle. It was loaded. He dropped like he was dead. I ran to my room and clum out the window—”
“Your mother—”
“She—laughed.”
“God!” He stooped and picked up the little bundle she had dropped at her feet. “Come along, Partner. You are going into the sheep business with 'Mormon Joe.'”