"He's livin', all right, but you vamoose—this mayn't be a pleasant sight tuh see."
"What do you take me for, a sissy? Pull his hand away, and let's see how badly he's hurt."
Yuma nodded, muttering beneath his breath. Penny noticed that the big cowboy was now fully composed and at ease. He seemed competent and direct in manner. His flustered embarrassment of the corral was gone. He examined the wound with a skill that showed familiarity with such things. Though it bled profusely, Yuma said, "Just grazed him. I reckon he'll live without no trouble."
"If he lives, he'll hang! He's murdered Becky," said Penny flatly. "And I hope he lives."
Yuma, holding the bandanna against the wound, looked at the girl and spoke with an exasperating drawl.
"Maybe you ain't heard straight, Miss Penny, but I tried tuh tell you a little while ago that they don't hang killers in this Basin. What they do is tuh hire 'em an' sleep 'em an' eat 'em an' keep 'em hid so's the law cain't git at 'em."
Penny chose to let the speech pass for the time being. There were other things that needed attention. Yuma looked at the wound and commented, "Maybe I better put a tourniquet around his neck tuh stop the bleedin'."
"A tourniquet would strangle him," advised Penelope.
Yuma nodded. "I know it."
Vince came running to investigate the shots, with Jeb ambling behind.