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The kind of a fellow that she'd always know where he was.
Folks had been bushwhacked by Indians, I guess.
Cows, sheep, kids.
He found me somewhere along a big cattle trail.
Some young fellow that would raise a lot of grain.
A fellow who half raised me, gave it to me.
Why don't you kick up that horse and move on?
Where did thee ever get such an odd name?
Who'd know what to do with that plough.
Quirt.
Now, that little gal, should marry some young fellow.
Oh nothing. I just like the sound of it.
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