“Cut it out! We can’t stand for no blood-letting around Miss Lee.” Towering in the lantern-light, he turned to Sliver and laid down the law. “You an’ us have ridden an’ fit together for many a year. So far you’ve never failed us an’ I don’t believe you will. We brought this young fellow in, as you know, to cut that damn Mexican out, an’ you’ve sp’iled our game by throwing him in Felicia’s way. Now it’s up to you. If you make good—we go on. If you don’t—there’s the trail.”
He could not have taken better ground. Where threats would have provoked only further obstinacy, the appeal won. While putting up his knife, though, Sliver glared at Jake.
“I’ll knock your block off the first time I catch you alone on the range.” Addressing Bull, he went on: “Of course if it’s to help Lady-girl, you bet I’ll go the limit. But what d’you-all expect? That I’m a-going to cinch her with a priest an’ license?”
“That’d be more loving-like; she’d appreciate it, too.”
“Shut up, Jake! We don’t care so long as you acquire enough title to shoo Gordon off. Here’s fifty pesos. For half that, old Antonio ’u’d sell her along with his soul. You kin settle the details with him. Of course you’ll have to live out there for a whiles—mebbe till this Ramon business is knocked out of Miss Lee’s head.”
“What! An’ cut out the range?” Sliver exclaimed in horror. “Me hang around there a-selling aguardiente to peones?”
“What’s left after you get through,” Jake began, but was cut off again.
“No, we can arrange the work so there’ll be plenty for you within easy riding.”
“So’s you won’t be drug too far away during the honeymoon. She wouldn’t stan’ for that.”
Though a model in force and brevity, Sliver’s answer transcends print. He wound up with the complaint: “All right, I’ll go, but I see my finish. I’ll die on Felicia’s grub.”