She looked now at her faithful henchman, silent for a time.
“Now, ma’am——”
“Yes, Jim?”
Nabours dropped into a chair, gripping the legs with twining spurred feet.
“I was going to ast you how you liked this Gonzales man, ma’am. He’s went now.”
“Were you taking a shot at him for luck, Jim? I heard a shot.” She tried to smile.
“No’m. It was him. A rattler was by the gate. He shot its head off. I must say he done it quick and easy too.”
“Well, he can ride.”
“Uh-huh—and shoot. Yes, I reckon. Fact is, he’s got a reputation now, for a young man. He’s the youngest sher’f in Texas, like enough. He’s only in six months, and in that time his county has done shrunk more’n a thousand population. He ain’t killed that many, ma’am—no; but he has done killed four or five, and them bad. Then when the Rangers was pulled together again and him put in as a captain, a good many of them people taken the hint and moved. It was time. Down there and in Uvalde there was plenty of men that didn’t own a head or a acre, who’d agree to put you up a herd of five thousand head on a month’s notice.
“I tell you, ma’am, the times is bad. The cow business in this state is in one hell of a fix. . . . Well, it takes good shooting to be a sher’f, let alone a Ranger.”