l!

When her ma died Old Man Wright wasn't good for much for a long time,
for he was always studying over something. Though he never talked a word
about her I allow that somehow or other after she died he kind of come
to the conclusion that maybe she hadn't been happy all the time, and he
got to thinking that maybe he'd been to blame for it somehow. After it
was too late, maybe, he seen that she couldn't never have grew to be no
range woman, no matter how long she lived.

But still we all got to take things, and he done so the best he could;
and after the kid begun to grow up he was happier. All the time he was
a-rolling up the range and the stock, till he was richer than anybody
you ever did see, though his clothes was just about the same. But, come
round the time when Bonnie Bell was fourteen or fifteen years old, about
proportionate like when a filly or heifer is a yearling or so, he begun
to study more.

There was a room up in the half-story where sometimes we kept things we
didn't need all the time--the fancy saddles and bridles and things. Some
old trunks was in it. I reckon maybe Old Man Wright went up there
sometimes when he didn't say nothing about it to nobody. Anyhow once I
went up there for something and I seen him setting on the floor,
something in his hand that he was looking at so steady he never heard
me. I don't know what it was--picture maybe, or letter; and his face was
different somehow--older like--so that he didn't seem like the same man.
You see, Old Man Wright was maybe soft like on the inside, like plenty
of us hard men are.

I crept out and felt right much to blame for seeing what I had, though I
didn't mean to. Seems like all my life I had been seeing or hearing
things I hadn't no business to--some folks never do things right. That's
me. I never told Old Man Wright about my seeing him there and he don't
know it yet. But it wasn't so long after that he come to me, and he
hadn't been shaved for four days, and he was looking kind of odd; and he
says to me:

"Curly, we're up against it for fair!" says he.

"Why, what's wrong, Colonel?" says I, for I seen something was wrong all
right.

He didn't answer at first, but sort of throwed his hand round to show I
was to come along.

At last he says:

"Curly, we're shore up against it!" He sighed then, like he'd lost a
whole trainload of cows.

"What's up, Colonel?" says I. "Range thieves?"

"Hell, no!" says he. "I wish 'twas that--I'd like