He looked up quizzically as Rance came up to the porch, but the owner of the Circle Spade said nothing. For possibly five minutes they sat there together, saying nothing. Chuckwalla was the first to break the silence.
“Wimmin,” he said solemnly, “do beat hell.”
“Men, too,” said Rance sadly.
“Yeah, that’s right, Rance; they shore do. If I was you, I’d slap Billy DuMond to a peak and then kick the peak off.”
Rance McCoy smiled bitterly.
“What would yuh gain by that, Chuckwalla?”
“I dunno. Mebby he ain’t worth the effort, Rance. Oh, you can set there and pull yore old poker-face, Rance McCoy. But I know yuh. I know how yuh feel toward Lila. It’s jist like takin’ pincers and pullin’ out yore finger-nails. I may not have a lot of brains, but I ain’t dumb.
“She ain’t showin’ any sense, I tell yuh. My God, you’ve done everythin’ for her. What if yuh ain’t her daddy? Yuh shore been good to her, old-timer. Even if you did kill her real father. I don’t know a thing about it, and I don’t want to. I’ve been with you goin’ onto eight year, Rance; and her own dad couldn’t ’a’ been better to her. It’s that school she’s been to. They done give her top-heavy ideas, that’s what.”
“I know,” said Rance softly. “But don’t blame her too much. It was a shock to her, Chuckwalla.”
“To know you killed her dad? Shucks, what’s that? She didn’t know him no better than I knowed Gineral Custer—and I don’t hold no grudge ag’in’ the Injuns. That’s why I allus say that wimmin do beat hell. There ain’t never been no wimmin in my life, Rance. And I was a likely critter in m’ youth. Lots a girls looked sideways at me.”