I'm just making a guess at their brand--and it ain't the brand this little lady carries." Bob removed one hand from his pocket and cuddled the bowl of his pipe.
"If she's a woman, she's a heart-balmer if she gets the chance.

They all are, down deep in their tricky hearts.

There isn't a woman on earth that won't sell a man's soul out of his body if she happens to think it's worth her while--and she can get away with it.

But don't for any sake call her _my_ heart-balmer." "That was Pop," drawled Lone.

"It don't strike me as being any subject for you fellows to make remarks about, anyway," he advised Pop firmly.
"She's a right nice little girl, and she's pretty darn sick." He touched John Doe with the spurs and rode away, stopping at the foreman's gate to finish his business with Hawkins.