No petticoats should ever have a hold on him.

Sure not.
As Presley came up to the edge of the porch, pushing his bicycle in front of him, Annixter excused himself for not getting up, alleging that the cramps returned the moment he was off his back.
"What are you doing up this way ?" he demanded.
"Oh, just having a look around," answered Presley.

"How's the ranch ?" "Say," observed the other, ignoring his question, "what's this I hear about Derrick giving his tenants the bounce, and working Los Muertos himself--working ALL his land ?" Presley made a sharp movement of impatience with his free hand.

"I've heard nothing else myself since morning.

I suppose it must be so." "Huh!" grunted Annixter, spitting out a prune stone.