"He left this morning."
"Uh-uh. Here, Bondsman, quit botherin' the young lady."
"He isn't bothering. I know what he wants." And she ran to the kitchen.
Shoop's face grew grave. "I didn't want to scare the little lady,
Bronson, but Lorry's father—Jim Waring—has been shot up bad over to
Criswell. He went in after that Brewster outfit that killed Pat. I
reckon he got 'em—but I ain't heard."
"Adams's father!"
"Yes, Jim Waring. Here comes the little missy. I'll tell you later. Now
Bondsman is sure happy."
And Bud forced a smile as Dorothy gave the dog a pan of something that looked suspiciously like bones and shreds of turkey meat.
A little later Bud found excuse to call Bronson aside to show him a good place to fence-in the corral. Dorothy was playing with Bondsman.
"Jim's been shot up bad. I was goin' to tell you that Annie Adams, over to Stacey, is his wife. She left him when they was livin' down in Mexico. Lorry is their boy. Now, Jim is as straight as a ruler; I don't know just why she left him. But let that rest. I got a telegram from the marshal of Criswell. Reads like Jim was livin', but livin' mighty clost to the edge. Now, if I was to send word to Lorry he'd just nacherally buckle on a gun and go after them Brewster boys, if they's any of 'em left. He might listen to me if I could talk to him. Writin' is no good. And I ain't rigged up to follow him across the ridge. It's bad country over there. I reckon I better leave word with you. If he gets word of the shootin' while he's out there, he'll just up and cut across the hills to Criswell a-smokin'. But if he gets this far back he's like to come through Jason—and I can cool him down, mebby."
"He ought to know; if his father is—"