"Cuss it!" exploded Pete. "I’m allus talkin’ too blamed much. Now I’ve gone an’ done it!"
"You’ve only hastened it a little," assured Tex, gripping the outstretched hand spasmodically. "Cheer up; I don’t aim to stay away forever!" He spurred his mount and shot away up the incline, Pete looking after him and slowly shaking his head.
When the restless puncher stopped again it was at the kitchen door of the white ranchhouse. As he swung from the saddle something stung him where his trousers were tight and he stopped his own jump to grab the horse, which had been stung in turn. A snicker and a quick rustle sounded under the summer kitchen and Tex took the coiled rope from his saddle, deftly unfastening the restraining knot. The rustling sounded again, frantic and sustained, followed by a half-defiant, half-supplicating jeer.
"You can’t do it, under here!" said Pickles, reloading the bean-shooter from a bulging cheek. "I can shoot yore liver out before you can whirl it!" Pickles was quite a big boy now, but threatened never to grow dignified; and besides, he had been badly spoiled by everybody on the ranch.
"Whirling livers never appealed to me," rejoined Tex, putting the rope back. "Never," he affirmed decidedly; "but I’m goin’ to whirl yourn some of these days, an’ you with it!"
"Those he loves, he annoys," said a low, sweet voice, its timbre stimulating the puncher like a draught of wine. His sombrero sweeping off as he turned, he bowed to the French Rose, wife of the big-hearted half-owner of the ranch. If only he had chosen a woman like this one!
"I seem to remember him annoyin’ Dave Owens, at near half a mile, with Hoppy’s Sharps," he slowly replied. "Nobody ever told me that he loved Dave a whole lot." At the momentary cloud the name brought to her face he shook his head and growled to himself. "I’m a fool, ma’am, these days," he apologized; "but it strikes me that you ought to smile at that name--it shore played its unwilling part in giving you a good husband; an’ Buck a mighty fine wife. Where is Buck?"
"Inside the house, walking rings around the table--he seems so, so--" she shrugged her shoulders hopelessly and stepped aside to let Tex enter.
"I don’t know what he seems," muttered Tex as he passed in; "but I know what he is--an’ that’s just a plain, ornery fool." He shook his head at such behavior by any man who was loved by the French Rose.