He wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeve again, reflecting that he had cried more in the last few weeks than he had in his whole life up to that point. Not in Nebraska, he said. July soon returned to work, but his demeanor had not greatly improved. He had seen two riders and supposed they were scouts for yet another herd.
In trying to think of what he would say in his letter he remembered all that had happened. One of the young men grabbed an old single-shot rifle but didn't fire. As for sleeping on the ground, she didn't mind. And you'll spend all your time passing laws against cattle thieves.
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