Deets took the bridle off Newt's other horse and turned him, still saddled, into the horse herd. The pockmarked girl smiled, picked up the money and went back into the saloon. He felt he had to insist on that point. But he found he couldn't stand it to wait--he had to see her again, even if she wouldn't look at him.
The leg was rotting, but a bowie knife was no instrument for taking it off. It was worth the inconvenience of a funeral way out in the country to sit with two women for a while. Clara devoted five minutes to trying to persuade him to settle somewhere on the Platte. Augustus was oiling his rifle.
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