“I seen yuh cuttin’ across this way,” explained Honey. “My ⸺, yuh shore got an awful lookin’ face on yuh, cowboy. Horse kick yuh?”
Joe shook his head. He didn’t want to talk with Honey Bee, but he knew there was no chance of getting away from him. Honey was tying his horse to the fence, and now he came over to Joe.
“Mebbe we better go in the house, Joe,” he said. “Yuh got to wash off that blood.”
Joe nodded and followed Honey to the house. It was not locked. Folks did not lock their houses in the Tumbling River country. Honey filled a basin with water and found a towel. Honey was rather rough but effective.
“Yo’re a ⸺ of a lookin’ thing,” he declared.
“Thasall right,” mumbled Joe. “Thanks, Honey.”
Joe slumped back in a rocking-chair and closed his eyes, while Honey put away the basin and towel.
“I’m wonderin’ what the other feller looks like,” said Honey, as he manufactured a cigaret.
“Jim Wheeler,” said Joe.
“The ⸺! Did Jim Wheeler hit yuh, Joe?”