“‘It was yore horse, Dutchy.’
“‘So-o-o-o? Don’t hang him; dot’s too good for him. Let me kick him in de pants.’”
Joe smiled bitterly.
“Do you think hangin’ is too good for me, Hozie?” he asked.
“I don’t say it is, Joe; but when I got a look at Peggy last night I shore wanted to give yuh some of the Dutchman’s medicine.”
Joe wiped the back of his hand across his cheek and wet his lips with a dry tongue.
“I reckon I’m all through in Tumblin’ River, Hozie.”
“Well,” Uncle Hozie bit off a huge chew of tobacco and masticated rapidly, thoughtfully. “Well, Joe, it ain’t for me to say. I got up as far as ‘Silver Threads’ last night myself, but of course it wasn’t my weddin’ night. But, accordin’ to some remarks I heard expressed last night, the folks of the Tumblin’ River ain’t takin’ up no collection to buy yuh a monument. Yuh see, Joe, Peggy is kinda well liked.’”
“Kinda well liked! My Lor’!” Joe shut his jaw tightly and fumbled at his reins. “I’ll be goin’, Hozie.”
“Yeah? Well.” Hozie spat thoughtfully, but did not look up at Joe.