“We all miss him, Cal,” Sally said. “He’s like a part of the family.” She smiled, then ran her hand through the young man’s hair. “Like you. You are part of the family.”
“Let’s get this bull home,” Smoke said.
“Did you have to pay a lot for him?” Cal asked.
“Look at the confirmation of that animal,” Smoke said. “Yes, sir, he is a champion all right.”
“How much did you have to pay for him?”
“Can you imagine the calves we will get from him? Why, we’ll have a fine herd of Herefords in no time at all.”
Sally laughed. “Do you get the hint, Cal? He doesn’t want to tell you.”
“Yes, ma’am, well, truth to tell, it ain’t none of my business nohow.”
“Fifteenhundreddollars,” Smoke said, speaking so quietly and running the words together so Cal couldn’t understand.
“How much?”
“Fifteen hundred dollars,” Sally repeated, saying the words clearly. “Which is exactly twice as much as he intended to spend.”
“Yes, but…I came into a little extra money while I was down there.”
“How?”
By now, all were mounted and they were leading Prince Henry toward the ranch. As they rode through the night, Smoke told the story of the break-in at his hotel room.
“If them boys had known what room they was breakin’ into, they would of never done it,” Cal said. “They ain’t nobody can beat you.”
“Cal, haven’t you ever heard the old cowboy adage?” Smoke asked.
“No. Uh, what’s an adage?”
“A saying.”
“I don’t know, I’ve heard lots of cowboy sayings.”
“Try this one,” Smoke said. “There’s never been a horse that can’t be rode, and there’s never been a cowboy that can’t be throwed.”
Cal laughed, then said, “I don’t get it.”
“It means you should never think that you can’t be beaten.”
“Oh,” Cal said. “Oh. You mean there might be someone somewhere who is better with a gun than you?”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s don’t talk about this anymore,” Sally said.
It had been two weeks since the attempted holdup of the stagecoach. The last ten runs had been tiring, but without incident. It was dark when the stage returned from its round-trip run to Chama, and it rolled down the main street with its corner lanterns gleaming.
“I tell you the truth,” Ben said as he handled the reins. “I’m so tired I don’t even plan to eat supper tonight. I’m going to go right to bed, soon as I get home.”
The coach passed in front of the cantina and as it did, a burst of laughter spilled out into the street. Pearlie turned in his seat to look toward it, and Ben chuckled.
“What is it?” Pearlie asked. “What are you laughing at?”
“Here I am so tired I’m going to go bed without even eating supper, and you can’t wait to get to the cantina.”
“I thought I might drop in for a little while,” he said. “I’m not ready for bed yet.”
“That’s because you are still a young man,” Ben said. “Wait until you are as old as I am.”
“Ben, I don’t mean anything by this, but what’s a fella your age doing driving a stagecoach anyway? Couldn’t you find something a little easier to do?”
“You think I’m too old to handle the ribbons, do you, boy?”
“No, no, not at all,” Pearlie said. “I didn’t mean anything like that. It’s just that—”
Ben laughed. “Don’t get all in a twitter over it. I’m just teasin’ you. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I know I complain about getting tired, but driving a stage is what I do. I’ve been drivin’ one for thirty years. Wouldn’t know how to do anything else. Wouldn’t want to do anything else.”
“I’ll give you this,” Pearlie said. “You’re good at it. I’ve seen a lot of drivers in my life, and you are the best.”
“Well, thank you, boy, I appreciate that,” Ben said as he pulled the coach into the depot, then halted the horses and set the brake.
“Here we are, folks!” he shouted down to the passengers.
Pearlie climbed down, then opened the door to help the passengers out. After all had exited the coach, he climbed back up to gather up the rifle and shotgun, then went inside the depot and put the weapons into the rack.
