“The Circle F’s steady rider, Vic Ryan, squatted on his tall heels with his back to the wall and laughed at her. “All right, all right—I’ll raid, I’ll gun out your nester.” He laughed again. “But under orders.” He aimed the stem of his pipe at her. “The boss’s orders.” “You know he’ll never!” “If I raid, he will,” said Ryan easily. “And he’ll give me those orders right up to and includin’ the minute I kick in that nester’s shack door.” “You mean you want him to go with you?” “That’s about it.” “...That’s the same thing as saying you won’t go.” Ryan shrugged and began to pack his pipe. “I reckon hell could freeze over.” She stamped to the door. “Catch a lot of folks with some heavy hauling to do, the day it does,” she snapped, and went out. Ryan took the pipe from his mouth and laughed again. He was not a jovial man and his laughter was ugly; but it suited his mood. Through the open door he could see across the yard—see Delia Fox, stiff-backed, furious, as she stamped into the house.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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