There was work to do, a drive of a hundred and seventy miles with slow-moving stock, then scouting for water and feed on the new pasture, a permanent camp to make, and much besides which filled up four good weeks. Afterwards I tracked a mountain sheep up to the bare heights, where all the rock was glazed with lightning, and the desert lay below me. I sat on my tail to think, feeling lonesome then, looking east toward Texas and wondering if my poor old mother was still alive. Westward the sun was setting, and that way lay the great Pacific Ocean, bigger than all the plains, where the ships rode herd upon their drove of whales—I wanted to see that too. But then I looked south-east, the way I had come, through valleys of scrub and cactus; there, somewheres beyond the hills, was my little ranch, and all the good pasture away to Holy Cross. My heart was crying inside me, but I didn't know what I wanted until I thought of Curly. Sure enough I wanted her most of all.
Next morning I told all my boys good-bye, and streaked off to go see Curly. I rode till dusk and camped with Texas Bob, a friend of mine who told me I was sure enough idiot for getting outlawed. Next evening I came to the house where my cousins lived, and crept in the dusk to scratch at their back door.
I found Miss Blossom Jameson all in a bustle as usual, which looked mighty natural. She was in the backyard feeding supper to her horse, and that poor victim leaned up against the fence to groan. There were cornstalks in it, cabbage-leaves, lettuce-leaves, tea-leaves, and some relics of ham and eggs.
"Now jest you sail right in, Mr. Hawss, and don't act wasteful, or you'll go without!"
Mr. Horse took a snuff at the mess, then backed away disgusted.
"Well, if that don't beat all! Now, you Hawss, you don't want to eat the flower-beds, or you'll get murdered!"
Mr. Horse turned his back and sulked.
"There! That's what I call a mean spirit, and I'm goin' to lock you up, you and your supper, till one of the two gets eaten—I don't care which!" So the lady chased Mr. Horse into the barn, and threw the pig-feed in after him. "I'll larn you to know what's good," says she, and slammed the door on his tail.
"Well!"—she stood with her back to the door, and threw up her nose at the sight of me—"I du wonder," says she, "that you dare to show yo' wicked face!"
I allowed that my good face was getting a bit mended since our last encounter. "How's my kid?" says I.