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Read, Opie Percival, 1852-1939

"The Starbucks"

Have you seed Lije Peters sense he was here the other day?"
"No, I ain't been lookin' fur him."
"But he mout look for you."
"He won't have to look under the bed," the old man replied, slowly
walking up and down the room.
"Jasper, do you think he'll git that app'intment as deputy marshal?"
He halted and stood with his hands behind him. "I don't know, but if he
do, it means shore enough trouble." He took his hands from behind him
and looked at them. "Red on yo' hands don't make a good glove. The mo'
I talk to Jim, the preacher, the wus I hate red. Blood may be thicker
than water all right enough, but it ain't as smilin' when the sun hits
it. I don't want to fight, but--"
"Oh, yes you do," she broke in. "You'd ruther fight than eat."
A smile illumined his bronze countenance. "Wall, I ain't always hungry."
The smile passed and with countenance grave and with voice deep he said:
"Every whar you see a home, you may know that somebody has fit fur it.
Every privilege in this here life has cost blood. If a man wants to be
treated as a lamb, he must prove himself a tiger.


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