A hundred times, or a thousand, he would look in what he thought was an easterly direction, hoping to see the grayness that meant dawn. Sam said you were looking for me, or have I got the wrong cowboy? Oh, July said, embarrassed. Now he was standing on the stairs, so wrought up he could hardly see. Why, you'll need him, July said.
No, I'll stay, Call said. But he was aware that Gus always got the better of their arguments. He knew how to handle an ax, but he was forgetful once he got his mind on something. The man seemed to think he might have money sewed in his long johns, and insisted he take them off.
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