Ma Basset sent him a withering glance and whirled on the uncomfortable sheriff.
“If you was as eager tuh git back them stolen cattle as yuh are tuh shoot our Pete boy, we’d not be facin’ poverty in our old age. It’s a wonder tuh me that you got the nerve tuh show yore face on this ranch, Joe Kipp.”
The sheriff winced as if struck. Shoulders sagging, eyes fixed on the ground, he made no reply. Tad and Shorty, unwilling spectators, were heartily wishing themselves elsewhere.
A mother cat will face a dog fifty times her size in defense of her young. Face him without fear. Men call it mother instinct and there is in this life no more courageous, more self-sacrificing, nor more beautiful trait. Not a man there but respected Ma Basset for the stand she took, Joe Kipp included.
“Ma’am,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the ground, “I don’t reckon I blame yuh none fer the way yuh feel. But yo’re plumb wrong about me gunnin’ fer Pete Basset. No matter how the play comes up. I ain’t drawin’ no gun on him if I should cut his trail. If I was as onery as you figger I am, I’d uh kept my mouth shet and laid low till Pete showed up. My idee in ridin’ over was tuh kinda let yuh know it in time tuh warn him. In doin’ that I’m violatin’ my oath uh office.”
Kipp turned abruptly and swung into his saddle. Before Hank Basset or his wife could say a word, he had ridden through the pole gate and was lost to sight in the trees.
“I’d orter have my tongue cut out,” said Ma Basset contritely. “Talkin’ to the pore ol’ feller thataway when he was doin’ us a good turn. Hank, git on yore hoss and ketch him. Tell him I was jest a fool woman talkin’ a lot uh fool nonsense.”
Hank shook his head.
“I reckon ol’ Joe savvys, Ma. He ain’t holdin’ no grudge. Supposin’ we tackles some grub? It’s past sundown and we kin talk this thing over better after we’ve took on a bait uh beef and beans.”
He jerked the saddle off his horse and followed his wife to the house.