Read Online Gather My Horses by John D. Nesbitt - Free Book Online

biscuit-shooter. She was about forty years old, with a well-kept figure. Her brown hair was tied in back, and it swayed with the rest of her as she walked to the kitchen.
    A minute later, she set down a large bowl of stew along with a spoon. Lodge glanced up at her without speaking, and she seemed poised for a second before she turned and left.
    â€œThanks, Richard,” said Fielding as he took up his spoon.
    â€œPlea sure’s mine.”
    â€œThanks again,” said the kid.
    â€œDon’t mention it. And we’re not done yet.” Lodge gave the kid a friendly nod.
    Fielding had to blow several times on the first spoonful, so he decided to let his stew cool down. He looked at the kid and asked, “What kind of work do you do?”
    The kid’s eyes came around. “Oh, whatever I can find.”
    â€œYou work around horses?”
    â€œI’ve done a little.”
    â€œWhere did you work last?”
    The kid’s eyes went back to his food, and he gave a light shrug. “It was in Julesburg. Last year. I unloaded rail cars and loaded wagons.”
    Fielding noticed the kid’s pale complexion and put it together with his wounded look and what he had just said. It looked as if this kid had been in jail, and his hair was just starting to grow out.
    â€œThere’s work,” said Fielding, “if you can keep from fallin’ off a horse.”
    The kid turned and smiled, showing a set of filmy, uneven teeth. “If I do, I’ll climb right back on.”
    â€œThat’s the thing to do.” Fielding spooned a chunk of meat from the top of the bowlful. It was still hot.
    â€œThat’s right,” said Lodge. “Do your work and not complain, and you’ll do just fine. You don’t look like a complainer to me.”
    â€œI don’t think I am.” The kid’s bowl was clean, and he set down his spoon.
    â€œHere’s the deal,” said Fielding. “I think I can get you on with a couple of fellas we know. Small roundup, not much.” He pointed side to side. “Lodge and I are both goin’ along, and they can use another hand.”
    â€œDo I have to ride wild horses?”
    â€œNot with this bunch, I don’t think. Just a lot of dust and flies.”
    â€œThat don’t bother me.”
    â€œI hope not. And if you work out all right at that, I’ve got some work comin’ up. Packin’ supplies to cow and sheep camps.”
    â€œWith mules?”
    â€œI use horses. Nothin’ against mules. I just don’t care for ’em.”
    â€œI could try that, too.”
    â€œEat your grub,” said Lodge. “We’re ready for pie, just waitin’ on you.”
    As Fielding ate his stew, the waitress came and picked up the two empty bowls.
    Lodge’s brown eyes sparkled as he spoke to herin a gallant tone. “Leonora, my dear, have the sheepherders and cowpunchers cleaned you out of all your pie today?”
    â€œNot at all. I’ve got one I made this morning, with only one slice taken out.” She had transferred the bowls to her right hand and stood with her left hand on her hip.
    â€œApple, I hope.”
    â€œThat’s right,” she said. She did not sound impatient at all.
    â€œI think we’d like three slices, then.”
    â€œWith coffee?”
    Lodge gave a questioning look at Bracken, who nodded. “Three cups,” said Lodge.
    Leonora tipped her head toward Fielding. “Did he say he wanted coffee?”
    Lodge raised his lively eyes to meet hers. “He’s my nephew. I speak for him.”
    Leonora gave Fielding a dubious look and walked away.
    Out on the street, when Fielding saw that Bracken wasn’t carrying a bag or anything, he asked the kid if he’d like to go pick up a few things he would need for work.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Bracken. “I haven’t got hardly any money.”
    â€œI’ll stake you,”