Yellowjacket's lower lip sagged with senility or lack of spirit, Lorraine could not tell which.
"You look like the frontispiece in that horse-doctor book," she remarked, eyeing him with disfavor.

"I can't say that comedy hide you've got improves your appearance.

You'd be better peeled, I believe." She heard a chuckle behind her and turned quickly, palm up to shield her eyes from the straight, bright rays of the sun.

Now here was a live man, after all, with his hat tilted down over his forehead, a cigarette in one hand and his reins in the other, looking at her and smiling.
"Why don't you peel him, just on a chance ?" His smile broadened to a grin, but when Lorraine continued to look at him with a neutral expression in her eyes, he threw away his cigarette and abandoned with it his free-and-easy manner.
"You're Miss Hunter, aren't you?
I rode over to see your father.

Thought I'd find him somewhere around the corral, maybe." "You won't, because he's gone for the day.