B. M. Bower

“ But that did not seem to relieve the mind of him. “Are the men on the ranch personal affairs or are they business? Is Burns a personal affair, Lorrie?”
Lorrie blushed and parried the question; in one sense, Burns might, she thought, be considered a “personal affair.” “They haven’t had another fight, have they?” she asked anxiously. Lorrie hated quarreling.
“No—but Burns ought to have smashed him good. He’s canned Burns.”
“Not really!”
“It kinda sounded that way,” Skookum retorted savagely. “He told Burns he could roll his bed, because he wouldn’t need him from now on. ”

“ Next day her uncle came to the ranch, and Lorrie saw with. misgivings that she should have told Skookum and given him time to adjust himself to the situation. As it was, she foresaw complications with Skookum.
It was perhaps an hour later that she heard the familiar tap-tap of his crutches on the porch. He burst into the house in a white heat of wrath.
“Say, is Uncle Howard going to be main squeeze on this ranch?” he demanded in a breath.
“So far as business matters go, he is, Skookum. Somebody must have the right to—well, to do the business ”

“ And Burns—Burns never did a thing!” Skookum choked back a sob at the humiliating memory. “He just said ‘all right,’ and walked off. And Uncle Howard said none of the men were worth their grub, and he’d have to get new ones. He said so. And Man-from-nowhere was standing there, and he said he was so new the shine wasn’t off him yet, and Uncle Howard asked him where he was from and how he got hurt, and he said he didn’t have any voting precinct, and his horse fell on him. That ain’t so,” Skookum added gravely. “Horses don’t shoot bullet-holes in your hat nor your arm, Lorrie. ”

“ I sized yuh up for a white man—and I may as well tell yuh I hate the sight of that Siwash of an uncle. The old man never had any truck with him, more than he could help; but he’s all the relative they’ve got, so I guess it’s natural he should get charge uh the property. ”