"Dad just won't listen. He says you're no good. That you've no sense of responsibility. He says you haven't anything and you never will have." "Do you think that, Ginnie?" Tom Brandon asked. "Do you?" "You know I don't, Tom. You shouldn't even ask. But you can't blame Dad. He only wants what is best for me, and every time I mention you, he brings up the fact that you are always racing horses and fighting. He says he'll have no saloon brawler for a son-in-law." "It isn't only that," Tom said, discouragement heavy in his voice, "it's that herd I lost. Every time I try to get a job, they bring that up. I reckon half of 'em think I was plumb careless an' the other half think I'm a thief." They both sat silent. Despite the cold wind neither felt like moving. It was not often anymore that they had a chance to talk, and this meeting had been an accident-but an accident each of them had been hoping would happen. Whether they would see each other again was doubtful. Jim Rollins was a hard-bitten old cattleman with one of the biggest ranches in the country, and he had refused Tom Brandon the right to come on his spread.
What do You think about With These Hands (Ss) (2002)?
