“Ye see hit’s like this: Them two old-timers had this here gal with ’em when they first come into th’ cañon down yonder. She was a kid—’long ’bout fourteen, then. An’ there ain’t nobody kin tell fer sure who she is, ner whar she come from. They say as how old Bob an’ Thad found her when they was a-prospectin’ onct down on th’ border somewhares—tuck her away from some Mexican outfit er other. Mebby hit’s so an’ mebby hit ain’t. But everybody ’lows as how she ain’t come from no good sort nohow, ’cause if she had why wouldn’t the Pardners tell hit? An’ take an’ look at this dad-beatin’ father arrangement—take their names fer instance: one is Bob Hill, t’other is Thad Grove, an’ what’s the gal’s name but Marta Hillgrove—Hill-Grove—d’ye ketch hit? An’ one week old Bob he’ll be her pappy, an’ th’ next week old Thad he’s her paw, an’ the gal she jist naterally ’lows they both her daddies. My Gawd! Hit’s enough t’ drive a decent man plumb loony a-tryin’ t’ figger hit out.”
The Lizard’s friends laughed.
“Oh, ye kin laugh, but I’m a-tellin’ ye thar’s somethin’ wrong somewhars an’ I ain’t th’ only one what says so neither. Won’t nobody over here in Oracle have nothin’ t’ do with her. Will they?” He turned to the loungers for confirmation.
“She’s a plumb beauty, too, an’ a mighty cute little piece—reg’lar spitfire, if ye git her started—an’ smart—say, she bosses them pore old Pardners till they’re scared mighty nigh t’ death of her—an’ proud—huh—she’s too all-fired proud to suit some of us.”
The crowd grinned.
“The Lizard, he sure ought to know,” said one.
“How about it, Lizard?” came from another. “You been a-tryin’ t’ make up t’ her ever since she moved into your neighborhood, ain’t you?”
“Ye all don’t need to mind about me,” retorted the Lizard, with a vicious leer. “My day’ll happen along yet. Ye notice I ain’t drawed what Chuck Billings got.”
“Chuck Billings,” he continued for the benefit of any one who might not be well versed in Cañada del Oro history, “he was one of George Wheeler’s punchers, an’ he tuck up with her one evenin’ when she was a-comin’ home from Saint Jimmy’s, an’ I’ll be dad-burned if her old prospectin’ daddies didn’t work on Chuck ’til George jist naterally had t’ send him int’ th’ hospital at Tucson. Chuck he ain’t never showed up in this neighborhood since neither. I heard as how George told him if he did get well an’ dast t’ come back he’d take a try at him hisself.”
“Good for George!”