Beasley’s face was livid, and he drew a sharp breath.
“I don’t know ’bout promises,” he said fiercely. “But you won’t find me fergittin’ much either.”
Buck turned to the door again and threw his retort over his shoulder.
“Then you sure won’t forgit I’ve told you what you are.”
“I sure won’t.”
Nor did Buck fail to appreciate the venom the other flung into his words. But he was reckless—always reckless. And he hurried through the doorway and strode off with his still unconscious burden.