"I guess the government paid you for the cattle. What did you do with the money?"
"The government never paid a dollar. I hope to get it some time, if I live long enough to see a bill through Congress."
"Well, what become of the ranch?"
"We sold it and invested in real estate in Kansas City, on the advice of people we thought to be friends."
"Of course they skinned you."
"The Sioux Indians are gentlemen, Fannie, compared to them sharks back there."
"They rob you without any false pretenses," she nodded.
"Yes, you know who's cleaned you out when they ride off."
"So you left your father up there and struck out to make another stake, did you, Texas?"
Texas did not answer right away. He turned his head and looked off toward the south quite a spell, as if he considered this impertinence, and going into things a little too far.
"I took him back to the old place to bury him, Fannie," he said, simply, but with such pathos that it sounded like the cry of an empty heart.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, keeping her head turned so the light would not fall on her face. Her voice was low and soft when she spoke again.
