True Grit by Charles Portis

people think the present state of Oklahoma is all treeless plains. They are wrong. The eastern part (where we were traveling) is hilly and fairly well timbered with post oak and blackjack and similar hard scrub. A little farther south there is a good deal of pine as well, but right along in here at this time of year the only touches of green to be seen were cedar brakes and solitary holly trees and a few big cypresses down in the bottoms. Still, there were open places, little meadows and prairies, and from the tops of those low hills you could usually see a good long distance.

    Then this happened. I was riding along woolgathering instead of keeping alert and as I came over a rise I discovered the road below me deserted. I nudged the willing Blackie with my heels. The two officers could not be far ahead. I knew they were up to some "stunt."

    At the bottom of the hill there was a stand of trees and a shallow creek. I was not looking for them there at all. I thought they had raced on ahead. Just as Blackie was splashing across the creek Rooster and LaBoeuf sprang from the brush on their horses. They were right in my path. Little Blackie reared and I was almost thrown.

    LaBoeuf was off his horse before you could say "Jack Robinson," and at my side. He pulled me from the saddle and threw me to the ground, face down.

    He twisted one of my arms behind me and put his knee in my back. I kicked and struggled but the big Texan was too much for me.

    "Now we will see what tune you sing," said he. He snapped a limb off a willow bush and commenced to push one of my trouser legs above my boot. I kicked violently so that he could not manage the trouser leg. Rooster remained on his horse. He sat up there in the saddle and rolled a cigarette and watched. The more I kicked the harder LaBoeuf pressed down with his knee and I soon saw the game was up. I left off struggling. LaBoeuf gave me a couple of sharp licks with the switch. He said, "I am going to stripe your leg good."

    "See what good it does you!" said I. I began to cry, I could not help it, but more from anger and embarrassment than pain. I said to Rooster, "Are you going to let him do this?"

    He dropped his cigarette to the ground and said, "No, I don't believe I will. Put your switch away, LaBoeuf. She has got the best of us."

    "She has not got the best of me," replied the Ranger.

    Rooster said, "That will do, I said."

    LaBoeuf paid him no heed.

    Rooster raised his voice and said, "Put that switch down, LaBoeuf! Do you hear me talking to you?"

    LaBoeuf stopped and looked at him. Then he said, "I am going ahead with what I started."

    Rooster pulled his cedar-handled revolver and cocked it with his thumb and threw down on LaBoeuf. He said, "It will be the biggest mistake you ever made, you Texas brush-popper."

    LaBoeuf flung the switch away in disgust and stood up. He said, "You have taken her part in this all along, Cogburn. Well, you are not doing her any kindness here. Do you think you are doing the right thing? I can tell you you are doing the wrong thing."

    Rooster said, "That will do. Get on your horse."

    I brushed the dirt from my clothes and washed my hands and face in the cold creek water. Little Blackie was getting himself a drink from the stream. I said, "Listen here, I have thought of something. This 'stunt' that you two pulled has given me an idea. When we locate Chaney a good plan will be for us to jump him from the brush and hit him on the head with sticks and knock him insensible. Then we can bind his hands and feet with rope and take him back alive. What do you think?"

    But Rooster was angry and he only said, "Get on your horse."

    We resumed our journey in thoughtful silence, the three of us now riding together and pushing deeper into the Territory to I knew not what.

*

    Dinnertime came and went and on we rode. I was hungry and aching but I kept my peace for I knew the both of them were waiting for me to complain or say something that would make me out