Pete immediately secluded himself in the barn, while Andy
hazed Blue Smoke into a box stall and hid Pete's saddle.
Ma Bailey, alighting from the buckboard, heard Andy's brief explanation
of his absence with indifference most unusual in her, and glanced sharply
at him when he mentioned having shot a wild turkey.
"I suppose you picked it and cleaned it and got it all ready to roast,"
she inquired. "Or have you just been loafing around waiting for me to do
it?"
"I et it," asserted Andy.
Ma Bailey glared at him, shook her head, and marched into the house while
Andy helped Bailey put up the horses.
"Ma's upset about somethin'," explained Bailey. "Seems a letter came for
Pete--"
"Letter from Pete! Why, he ain't comin' back, is he?"
"A letter for Pete. Ma says it looks like a lady's writin' on the
envelope. She says she'd like to know what female is writin' to Pete,
and him goodness knows where, and not a word to say whether he's sick or
broke, or anything."
"I sure would like to see him," said Andy fervently.
"Well, if somebody's writin' to him here at the Concho, looks like he
might drift in one of these days.
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