I takes a look and stares a few lines myself. Her hair is on her shoulder—plumb off her head, and the hair of her head is brown and parted on the side.
“Uh—uh—” stutters Magpie.
Brand steps over and takes the guns out of Magpie’s unresisting hands. Brand turns to the partly scalped person:
“Better set down, Kid. You got plenty of nerve, but we seem to have got you this time, eh? Little pale around the gills.”
“Pale around the gills, eh?” snarls the person. “Dang you, Brand, you would be too. That blasted fresh sheriff busted in a while ago without knocking and I had to swaller my chew. I been too sick to fight.”
“Where’s Blazer?”
“In the cellar with irons on.” says I. “We’d ’a’ had this Kid Corey, too, if yuh hadn’t been so blasted previous. Any time yuh don’t think this sheriff’s office is on the job yuh got another think coming.”
“I suppose that’s why Simpkins threw a gun down on me when I shot at the Kid,” laughs Brand. “Did I hit yuh, Kid?”
“No, dang yuh! It burnt my ribs, so I drops safe. I’m just getting over one chunk of lead in the shoulder. That’s why I had to let my hand down, Brand. It hurt like thunder. I told that fool of a Blazer to lay low with me, but he thought we had some easy pickings around here. I kept cases on the sheriff’s office, that’s about all I was able to do. Didn’t I make a good female?”
“Magpie ain’t to blame,” says I. “I’d ’a’ likely fell, too, if I’d ’a’ been as susceptible as Magpie. He was wise to Blazer, but not to the Kid. I reckon the money is in that box in the cellar, ain’t it, Kid?”