“Your eyesight don’t worry me none to speak about,” states Muley. “The last time I meets up with you I made you throw your gun down the well. How’s your sentiments concerning me at present?”
“I’m filled with meekness and contrition, as I aforementioned, Le-mule. It aches my heart to know that I provoked you thataway, and I pilgrims over here to make amends. Sabe?”
“Why this sudden change of attitude?” inquires Muley, and Zeb sort of squirms in his chair.
“She comes to me like a yelp in the night,” says he, pious-like, “I gets to thinking thusly: ‘Le-mule Allender Bowles, I ain’t treated you right. I hops on to you like a coyote on a carcass, and reviles you abusive-like, ’cause you desires to marry into my family. I lets my interest in Susie blind me to her best interests, but now I sheds the scales off my eyes, and comes out into the sunshine of true understanding.
“The more I thinks about it, Le-mule, the worse I feels. Youth calls to youth, and what is stronger than the call of true love? She ain’t never yelped at me, boys, but I’m a heap wise. While Le-mule is only getting forty a month now, I feels that in the due course of time he’ll be a shining light of the community, and maybe go to Congress.”
“Good sentiments, Zeb,” I agrees, “but it will likely be a close race between the voters and the sheriff to decide whether he goes to Helena or Deer Lodge.”
“Haw! Haw! Haw!” roars Zeb. “Muley will never go to the penitentiary.”
“Not willingly,” I agrees. “What are your sheep worth today?”
“I have no sheep, Henry,” he grins. “Sold out to a feller from St. Marie’s basin, and his drive started today. Yep. I’m a civilian now.”
“Got a good price, too,” he grins, when he sees me look foolish-like at Muley. “Glad I sold. Too much sentiment against sheep. Well, boys, I reckon I’ll toddle along. I couldn’t sleep until I comes over and squares myself with Le-mule. Come over and make yourself to home at my place, Le-mule.”