“Hojup!” she exhorted the mules; and they leaned to the collars and heaved the wagon into motion again.
For a little neither girl spoke, and both watched the mules as if a great deal depended on careful attention to their efforts in the clinging sand. Both were men’s women, and knew less about other members of their own sex than of their opposites. Neither knew how to begin the conversation.
Manzanita, out of the corners of her eyes, took note of the unlaced, run-over shoes and the negligently held-up black stockings of Jeddo’s daughter, also the cheap ring on a workworn finger, and the unstarched gingham dress, over which had been slipped a man’s shirt, the tail hanging to her knees. Wing o’ the Crow observed, when chance offered, the worn leather chaps, the tampico-top boots, the flannel shirt, and the big-roweled Mexican spurs of the daughter of Canby.
Then Manzanita thought of something brilliant.
“How long have you been coming?” she asked.
“Jest from Opaco, or all th’ way?” asked the black-haired girl.
“Both,” said Manzanita.
“We was more’n a week on the railroad,” replied Wing o’ the Crow. “An’ three days drivin’ outa that Opaco. Stock’s wore out, purty near. The railroad trip always does ’em up.”
“Uh-huh—they don’t get any exercise, do they?”
“No.”