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But
not
yet
.
She
looked
up
at
him
.
"
But
you
watch
that
Kennerly
.
If
he
doesn
’
t
know
a
thing
,
he
’
ll
make
it
up
.
"
When
he
left
she
turned
to
the
sink
,
feeling
the
hot
,
warm
drift
of
her
grateful
tears
.
Kennerly
was
toothless
,
unpleasant
,
and
plagued
with
daughters
.
Two
half
-
grown
ones
peeked
at
the
gunslinger
from
the
dusty
shadows
of
the
barn
.
A
baby
drooled
happily
in
the
dirt
.
A
full
-
grown
one
,
blonde
,
dirty
,
sensual
,
watched
with
a
speculative
curiosity
as
she
drew
water
from
the
groaning
pump
beside
the
building
.
The
hostler
met
him
halfway
between
the
door
to
his
establishment
and
the
street
.
His
manner
vacillated
between
hostility
and
a
craven
sort
of
fawning
-
like
a
stud
mongrel
that
has
been
kicked
too
often
.
"
It
’
s
bein
’
cared
for
,
"
he
said
,
and
before
the
gunslinger
could
reply
,
Kennerly
turned
on
his
daughter
:
"
You
get
in
,
Soobie
!
You
get
right
the
hell
in
!
"
Soobie
began
to
drag
her
bucket
sullenly
toward
the
shack
appended
to
the
barn
.
"
You
meant
my
mule
,
"
the
gunslinger
said
.
"
Yes
,
sir
.
Ain
’
t
seen
a
mule
in
quite
a
time
.
Time
was
they
used
to
grow
up
wild
for
want
of
’
em
,
but
the
world
has
moved
on
.
Ain
’
t
seen
nothin
’
but
a
few
oxen
and
the
coach
horses
and
.
.
.
Soobie
,
I
’
ll
whale
you
,
’
fore
God
!
"
"
I
don
’
t
bite
,
"
the
gunslinger
said
pleasantly
.
Kennerly
cringed
a
little
.
’
It
ain
’
t
you
.
No
,
sir
,
it
ain
’
t
you
.
"
He
grinned
loosely
.
"
She
’
s
just
naturally
gawky
.
