“Land sakes! The pore, diseased critter. Who’d uh thunk he was inflicted thataway, Hank? I hope he gits home safe.”
Hank gave Shorty a suspicious look and when Ma Basset’s broad back was turned, the little puncher winked broadly. Hank chuckled.
“Hank Basset!” Ma whirled at the sound. “Shame on yuh. Makin’ fun uh that pore, diseased boy. If that ain’t like a man. Cow punchers is the most cold-hearted humans livin’, I do believe.”
“Yes’m,” agreed Hank. “Shorty, if yuh’d crave the use of a brush and comb, I’ll herd yuh to it.”
He led the way into the living room and to the bed room beyond. As he passed the cupboard, his hand slipped behind the curtain and when the two gained the bed room, Hank uncorked the bottle of snake bite cure.
“Happy days, Hank.”
“Drink hearty, Shorty,” came the reply, soft whispered, barely audible above the ensuing gurgling noise.
VI
With Shorty left behind to excuse his partner’s absence at supper, Tad, despite gnawing pangs of hunger, made no complaint.