One day they met two dirty-looking men with greasy beards and six or seven guns between them. She had never enjoyed it, and it would take more than Gus's talk to change her opinion. The riders at the rear were all but hidden in the rosy dust. Gus was trying to be kind, but he wasn't listening.
When she left. It accounted for the shortage of grown men of a certain age, that war. I don't necessarily keep up with every old-timer who ever shot at an Indian. Joe had never met a man so careless that he would throw his possessions in a river.
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