Emmitt cleared his throat in embarrassment. “I’m only sixteen. I ain’t never really had the chance to do it. I wouldn’t even know how to go about gettin’ a woman interested in me.”
“Hell,” Bates said. “There ain’t nothin’ to that. All you got to do is go to a whorehouse. If you got the money, whores don’t care how old you are.”
“I don’t know about that. Mama said she didn’t want me seein’ any whores.”
“Where is your mama now?” Cooter asked.
“She’s down in Denver.”
“Then what your mama don’t know won’t hurt her none, will it?”
“Tell you what, boys,” Graham said. “How ’bout the next time we all go into town together, we get this boy broke in. We’ll chip in and buy ’im a whore.”
“Buy him a whore? Hell, most of the time, I don’t have enough money for my own whore, why should I pay for the boy?” Bates asked.
“Because we got to get him broke in good, and I figure the best one to handle that would be Cavalry Mona,” Graham said.
“Ha!” Cooter said. “Yeah, Cavalry Mona. Now, I
“Why do they call her Cavalry Mona?” Emmitt asked with some trepidation.
“They call her that ’cause near ’bout ever’one in the United States Cavalry has rode her, at least once,” Bates said.
“I don’t know,” Emmitt said. “Is she pretty?”
All three of the other cowboys laughed. “Is she pretty, you ask? Hell, boy, you don’t go with whores ’cause they’re pretty. You go with ’em because they are there.”
“What do you say, Emmitt? You ’bout ready to become a man?
“I—I think I’d better go down to the creek and get us some water,” Emmitt said, taking the bucket and going outside.
Bates laughed a low, knowing laugh. “You know what I think? I think our Emmitt ain’t all that fired up ’bout beddin’ Cavalry Mona.”
“Who knows?” Graham teased. “I’m thinkin’ maybe we’ll be able to talk him into it,” Graham said.
“Whose time is it to cook breakfast?” Bates asked.
“It’s your time,” Graham and Cooter both replied.
“Well then, I’d better get started.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Graham offered.
The two men started putting together what they would need for breakfast. Bates got out the flour and lard for biscuits, Graham started carving off pieces of bacon.
“I wonder what the hell is keeping Emmitt with the water,” Cooter said. “Maybe I’d better go take a look.”
“Hurry back, I ain’t got enough water to roll out the biscuits with,” Bates said.
Graham got out his book and started writing.
“You’re always writin’ in that book of your’n,” Bates said. “What is it you’re a-writin’, anyhow? You writin’ a story or somethin’? You goin’ to publish a book and become famous? ‘Cooking on the Range with Two Gun Pete,’” he teased.
“I’m not writin’ a book. I’m just takin’ notes is all,” Graham said.
Bates walked over to the window and looked outside. “That’s funny,” he said.
“What?”
“Well, there ain’t neither one of ’em come back yet, and I don’t even see either one of ’em down to the crick.”
Graham walked over to look as well.
“Maybe I’d better go see what’s keepin’ ’em.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Graham said.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t like the looks of this. I think there might be someone out there keepin’ ’em from comin’ back in.”
Suddenly, a fusillade of shooting erupted and bullets crashed through the window.
Bates moved over to look through the window. “Damn! It’s the Yeller Kerchief rustlers!” he shouted.
“Bates, you better get down.”
There was another episode of heavy shooting, and Bates cried out.
“I been shot! Graham, I been shot!” Bates said.
Bates went down and Graham went over to check on him. Bates had been hit in the stomach and in the side. He was groaning softly.
