Explore "The Drift Fence" by Zane Grey on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Jim Traft, resting on the soft, fragrant matt behind a spruce tree, and waiting for the call to supper, inadvertently heard conversation most assuredly not intended for his ears.
"Nope. You cain't deal no more cairds to me," Curly Prentiss was saying to someone. "I won't take a hand in any more deals against the boss."