I want a yard with a fence around
it that you can go out and set on after supper and listen to
whip-poor-wills. I'm a fool about whip-poor-wills,' says Luke.
"That's the kind of a man he was. He was home-like, although he'd
had bad luck in such investments. But he never talked about them
times on the ranch. It seemed like he'd forgotten about it. I
wondered how, with his ideas of yards and chickens and notions of
lattice-work, he'd seemed to have got out of his mind that kid of
his that had been taken away from him, unlawful, in spite of his
decree of court. But he wasn't a man you could ask about such
things as he didn't refer to in his own conversation.
"I reckon he'd put all his emotions and ideas into being sheriff.
I've read in books about men that was disappointed in these
poetic and fine-haired and high-collared affairs with ladies
renouncing truck of that kind and wrapping themselves up into
some occupation like painting pictures or herding sheep or
science or teaching school--something to make 'em forget. Well, I
guess that was the way with Luke. But, as he couldn't paint
pictures, he took it out in rounding up horse thieves and in
making Mojada County a safe place to sleep in if you was well
armed and not afraid of requisitions or tarantulas.
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