“Couldn’t live yith yer lovin’ and lawful wife?”
“You was too strenuous fer me, and yer temper was too peppery. So I thought I’d slide.”
Latimer had appeared, drawn by the noise.
“And there’s the feller that you went away with!” she said to Nomad. “Don’t say he ain’t, fer I know. Thet’s ther dashin’ galoot that called hisself Persimmon Pete. You got stuck on him there in Kansas City, and lit out with him. Don’t say it ain’t so, er I’ll poke the p’int of this umbreller inter yer innards! Don’t say it ain’t so!”
“Waugh! I ain’t sayin’ that it ain’t so.”
“Then it is so? I knowed it was. And he lied to me in ther town, when I charged him with it. And he knowed you was out here; and out here he rid, to meet ye. I seen him go, and I follered him. Oh, I understand ye! You can’t fool Pizen Kate. Ain’t it so?”
“Anything’s so, when you says it is,” said Nomad.
She shook her umbrella at Buffalo Bill. “You lied to me there in the town!” she vociferated. “You said you wasn’t Persimmon Pete, and you perfessed that you didn’t know nothing about where my ole man was! Now, what do ye say to that? When you left Eldorado I follered ye. And here I find you two together. What do ye say to that? Answer me!”
The scout was laughing too much to reply as quickly as she wished, and this made her rave the more.
“You are mistaken,” he said finally.