He still worked the drags; as the grass improved the work was a little less dusty. Five hours later, as the sun was setting, he nudged the exhausted horse over a slope north of the Yellowstone and saw the little town of Miles City four or five miles to the east. Instead of climbing in the wagon, he turned away and sat down near the pigs. No, he said.
He charged at the wallow, rifle in one hand, lance in the other, though when he tried to lever the rifle with one hand he dropped it. It's my dern job, too. Both had bullet boles in their foreheads. What if Elmira comes back? Roscoe asked.
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