The cattle, for all their wild looks, behaved so well that they didn't get to see the cowboys actually rope one, a sight Joe longed to see. He looked at Roscoe, who was standing stock-still. The scruffy growth of whiskers made him seem a lot older than she had remembered him. Lorena looked west, but she could see no one.
This will help, he said, and he was right, though getting the boots on still wasn't easy. While he was going from corpse to corpse collecting ammunition, he was startled to hear the sudden rattle of shots from the east. The grass was wet with dew, so he sat on his saddle blanket watching Dish Boggett point the cattle into the blue distances. Come on, July, she said.
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