“Well, that’s what she amounts to right now. And it’s all over a danged girl!”
“I’m glad there’s a reason, Ben. Mostly allus them feuds starts over nothin’. Go ahead and tell me the details.”
“Rosie Smith.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what I said. You know how Bud and Pete kinda shined around her a month ago. I don’t guess she knowed which one to pick. Of course, Bud thinks it’s him, and Pete thinks it’s him. And there you are. It’s been kinda achin’ both of ’em, I reckon. Anyway, Chuck Lester makes a remark the other night that he supposed Bud wouldn’t be with us in Mojave Wells at the finish of the roundup, ’cause he’d stop along a picket fence before he reached the main street, and head straight through the gate.
“Pete was there, and I reckon it hit him in a sore spot, cause he chips in with a remark, which didn’t set well with Bud. There wasn’t much said, but it took all of us to take their guns away. We didn’t want no killin’ in camp. Bud was reasonable. He says to Pete, ‘We’ll settle this in Mojave Wells.’”
“Pete was agreeable. He says, ‘That suits me. We’ll make a truce until sundown, both agreein’ to keep away from her. When that sun goes down, all truce is off, and we shoot on sight.’”
Buck sliced another shaving, laid the stick aside and began whetting the blade on the counter of his left boot.
“And one of them damn’ fools is goin’ to get killed,” added Ben.