“Mebby this ol’ place was excitin’ once upon a time, but since I’ve lived here she’s been jist about as wild and woolly and excitin’ as watchin’ a sheep-herder play solitaire,” opines Ricky Henderson to the bunch of us on the steps of Buck Masterson’s saloon. “Why,” he continues, when we don’t argue none, “even the dog-gone broncs have done forgot how to pitch in this man’s land. This year of 1895 shore is dull and drab to ol’ man Henderson’s li’l boy.”…
Your support pays for translating these classics into more languages.
Support for $12/month DonateSubscribers read with instant translation, without waiting for the free daily limit.