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argued. “And won’t be happy doin’ it, either, I’m guessin’. Son, there’s those here who’d judge you not the wronged man here. That boy was clumsy, but he’s just a snip of a child and didn’t merit yer boot. You’ll find later on dyin’ ought to follow a better grievance. Drink a little less and apologize a trifle more. That’d be my advice. I can’t afford to lose a man before even settin’ out for Kansas.”
    â€œBut he—”
    â€œGet yerself back to the ranch, Danny Elton, before I lose my temper. Hear?”
    â€œYes, sir,” the cowboy reluctantly agreed.
    â€œYou others, too,” the rancher commanded, and the remaining drovers stumbled toward the door.
    â€œYou did that jus’ fine,” Pinto observed.
    â€œAin’t bad boys,” Dotham said by way of apology. “Just young. All I got, though.”
    â€œShorthanded?” Pinto asked.
    â€œNot as you’d know it. Twenty-eight men, and that’s just my half of the outfit.”
    â€œI thought maybe you might need another man.”
    â€œYou? I could, Lowery, but I signed on a full crew,” Dotham explained. “I wouldn’t be able to pay you, and I never hire a job done I can’t pay for. Breeds ill feelings.”
    â€œSure,” Pinto said, dropping his gaze.
    â€œStill, there’s my partner. And neighbor. Ryan Richardson. He runs the Double R. Might buy them other horses, too. Just head north from town. Toward Decatur. Three miles up and on yer right. Can’t miss it. House is a big one with a gabled roof.”
    â€œMight ride out and have a talk with him.”
    â€œTell him I suggested it. And that you know Bob Toney.”
    â€œSure,” Pinto said, turning toward the door. “Thanks fer de conversation, Mr. Dotham. Good luck to you, too.”
    â€œMight be I’ll need it,” Dotham muttered. “Good luck to you as well.”
    â€œMight need some my own self,” Pinto answered as he stepped out the door. Might indeed!

Chapter 6
    The Double R Ranch wasn’t at all what Pinto had expected. On the short ride out from Defiance he’d seen only the same windswept plain and spotted hills that spread north of Fort Worth toward the Red River. But now, east of the dusty market road, a tall gabled house rose from a grove of peach trees. It was as if Pinto Lowery had suddenly been swept through time and space to one of the Virginia manor houses encountered during his soldier days.
    â€œIt’s a place to remember,” Pinto remarked. And he judged Ryan Richardson to be that sort of man, too. Not many who had lived through the dark days of the war and the hard times that followed had kept dreams kindled. Pinto Lowery hadn’t. This Richardson, though, was even now adding rooms off the west side of his house. Moreover, the walls were built of flat gray stone. Yes, here was a place to last.
    Pinto couldn’t help staring at the wide veranda and the tall, symmetrical windows that flanked two heavy wooden front doors. Even when he dismounted, his eyes remained on the grand house. So it was that when a gangly boy of fifteen or so suddenly called out, Pinto responded with a start.
    â€œTalkin’ at me?” Pinto cried.
    â€œNobody else’s come ridin’ up to my house with half a dozen horses,” the sandy-haired youngster barked. “Got business here?”
    â€œThought to have,” Pinto answered, giving the big black a stroke across his white nose and nodding at the other animals. “Name’s Lowery. I raise horses.”
    â€œThese look to’ve raised ’emselves,” the boy pointed out. “Range ponies. ’Cept for that chestnut there. She’s no accident.”
    â€œNo, sir,” Pinto agreed. “Half a year’s labor paid for her. But that’s not what brung me here. I come through Defiance town and sold some animals to a fellow