"Is it?" she said, with an indifference born of great weariness. "I suppose it must be. I remember I struck on my face when he shot the mule I was riding. He—he shot both mules."
"He'll be lynched for that, then," Billy said decisively.
"Who'll pay for the mules?" Hazel wished to know. "We needed those mules," she added.
Billy nodded. "That's so. If he's lynched for this attack on you—your mules—same thing if you know what I mean—you lose out on the mules. Maybe we can fix it up."
"Sure we can," Jack Murray spoke up briskly.
"I'm not talkin' to you," pointed out Billy. "Whatever fixing up there is to do, I'll do it. You have done about all the fixing you're gonna do for one while. Yeah. I came out after you, Jack, to make you a better boy, but now that we got you where you'll stand without hitching, I can't do it. I ain't got the heart. Of course, if you were to jump at me or something, or make a dive for your gun I'm holding, I don't say but I'd change my mind in a hurry. I kind of wish you had seen me back there a-lying under my currant bush. Then we'd have had it out by this time, and I'd be going back to town for a shovel."
"Don't you be too sure of that," snarled Jack Murray. "Just you gimme my gun back, and I'll show you something."
"I'll bet you would," acquiesced Billy, "but I'm keeping your guns, both of 'em. I'd feel too lonesome without 'em."
"Can't you do nothing but flap your jaw?" demanded Jack in a huff. "I'd just as soon be downed outright as talked to death."
"But you haven't any choice in the deal," Billy told him in mild surprise. "Not a choice. You shut up. I'll figure out what to do with you. Y'understand, Jack, I've got to be fair to Miss Walton too. If you're lynched she won't get paid for her team, and I can't have her losin' a fine team of mules thisaway and not have a dime to show for it. That would never do. Never. Lessee now. You got any money, Jack?"