“Was it _your_ homestead that burned last night?”
His small eyes searched my face, and he shifted slightly. The muscles
moved under the great layer of fat, but the body gave only a shimmying
shiver.
“It was my homestead, although the Flying M claim it, and although a
girl claims it.”
“Who built the buildings?”
Another shimmy that would be a squirm, and the pale tongue flecked the
heavy lips.
“The girl’s uncle built ’em, but they were built on my land.”