"Good morning, sir," he said.
Sutton glared at him. "What do you want?" he asked.
"I belong to you," Herkimer told him, blandly. "I'm part of your third of Benton's property."
"My third…" and then he remembered.
It was the law. Whoever kills another in a duel inherits one third of the dead man's property. That was the law…a law he had forgotten.
"I hope you don't object," said Herkimer. "I am easy to get along with and very quick to learn and I like to work. I can cook and sew and run errands and I can read and write."
"And put the finger on me."
"Oh, no, I never would do that."
"Why not?"
"Because you are my master."