“’F yuh think I will, yo’re crazy,” said Lonnie.
Joe and Uncle Hozie rode back to Pinnacle City together. A crowd gathered around the doctor’s house, waiting for a report on Jim’s condition. But before such a report was forthcoming, Lonnie Myers drove in with Peggy and Laura in a buggy from the HJ ranch.
And when the report did come, it shocked every one. Jim Wheeler had died from concussion of the brain. The crowd moved silently away. Jim Wheeler was one of the old-timers, and his death, as Nebrasky Jones said, was “a ter’ble jolt to mankind of Tumblin’ River.”
Uncle Hozie took Peggy and Laura out to the Flying H, and Lonnie Myers proceeded to drink more whisky than was good for him, in order to forget.
“I was in there when the doctor told ’em,” said Lonnie. “Leave-that-bottle-where-it-is! I’m the only person that knows when I’ve got enough. Jist like a marble statue, that girl was. Didn’t say nothin’; didn’t do nothin’. Say! Why don’tcha git some liquor that’s got stren’th?”
“I betcha she feels bad, jist the same,” said “Slim” Coleman, of the Lazy B. Slim wasn’t very bright.
Lonnie looked pityingly at Slim.
“Oh, I s’pose she does, Slim. If I was in yore place, I’d go away before I tromp yuh to death.”
“Aw, you ain’t goin’ to tromp nobody, Lonnie; yo’re drunk.”
“I ain’t, but I will be,” solemnly. “And when I do git drunk, I’ll prob’ly forget that yo’re jist plain ignorant, Slimmie. Now, you better go spin yore rope where I can’t see nor hear yuh.”