Just kill that old man. July sat where he was until the afterglow was just a pale line on the western horizon. Some of the bruises were blue, others had faded to yellow. I might find out that I'm going to drown in the Republican River.
The Suggs boys were already mounted. The cattle settled down and moved north toward the Arkansas without stampedes or other incidents, except for one--a freak accident that cost Newt his favorite horse, Mouse. When not doing chores he would spend hours practicing with an old rope he had found, roping stumps, or sometimes the milk-pen calf. We had heard that he was dead.
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