“The half that was tore off yer pants? Well, never mind, Baldy; Lin will get left too, same as all of yu'.”
“Is there many?” inquired the Virginian. He was still stretched on his back, looking up at the sky.
“I don't know how many she's been used to where she was raised,” Wiggin answered. “A kid stage-driver come from Point of Rocks one day and went back the next. Then the foreman of the 76 outfit, and the horse-wrangler from the Bar-Circle-L, and two deputy marshals, with punchers, stringin' right along,—all got their tumble. Old Judge Burrage from Cheyenne come up in August for a hunt and stayed round here and never hunted at all. There was that horse thief—awful good-lookin'. Taylor wanted to warn her about him, but Mrs. Taylor said she'd look after her if it was needed. Mr. Horse-thief gave it up quicker than most; but the schoolmarm couldn't have knowed he had a Mrs. Horse-thief camped on Poison Spider till afterwards. She wouldn't go ridin' with him. She'll go with some, takin' a kid along.”
“Bah!” said Trampas.
The Virginian stopped looking at the sky, and watched Trampas from where he lay.
“I think she encourages a man some,” said poor Nebrasky.
“Encourages? Because she lets yu' teach her how to shoot,” said Wiggin. “Well—I don't guess I'm a judge. I've always kind o' kep' away from them good women. Don't seem to think of anything to chat about to 'em. The only folks I'd say she encourages is the school kids. She kisses them.”
“Riding and shooting and kissing the kids,” sneered Trampas. “That's a heap too pussy-kitten for me.”
They laughed. The sage-brush audience is readily cynical.
“Look for the man, I say,” Trampas pursued. “And ain't he there? She leaves Baldy sit on the fence while she and Lin McLean—”