Ten dollars is enough for a whore, ain't it? Ben Rainey asked Pea Eye. A man whose wife had left was apt to be sore about it and touchy. For the next few days everyone was tense, expecting Indian attack. She had hopes for her girls, and might even come to have them for the baby at her bosom, child of another mother.
The rest of her was covered with blankets. The old man, a hard-looking customer, didn't look up again until he had finished skinning the possum. You could have an easy life. He was looking stern, though it was hand for a man so short and fat to really muster much sternness.
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