Orahood to remember my sore ankle, and on
striking the broken country I suggested we ride slower, as many of our
oldest beeves ranged through these hills. This suggestion enabled me to
ease up and to show our best cattle to advantage until the sun set. We
were then twenty-five miles from the ranch. But neither distance nor
approaching darkness checked Wayne Orahood's enthusiasm. A dozen times
he remarked, "We'll look at a few more cattle, son, and then ride in
home." We did finally turn homeward, and at a leisurely gait, but not
until it was too dark to see cattle, and it was several hours after
darkness when we sighted the lamps at headquarters, and finished the
last lap in our afternoon's sixty-mile ride.
My employer and Mr. Orahood had met before, and greeted each other with
a rugged cordiality common among cowmen. The others had eaten their
supper; but while the buyer and I satisfied the inner man, Uncle Lance
sat with us at the table and sparred with Orahood in repartee, or asked
regarding mutual friends, artfully avoiding any mention of cattle.
But after we had finished Mr. Orahood spoke of his mission, admitted
deprecatingly that he had taken a little ride south and west that
afternoon, and if it was not too much trouble he would like to look
over our beeves on the north of the Nueces in the morning.
Pages:
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362