“Nobody I know personally,” Rock answered. “But I know of his family. He’s a Brett. Son of the Brett that runs the B X over toward El Paso. Mother says he’s a nice boy.”
“I know the Bretts. Pretty good people, take ’em all around. Still, pretty young, pretty young, for marryin’. Kinda sudden after yo’-all fixin’ it so she could get whatever advantages lie in an education.”
“Pshaw, Uncle Bill,” Rock said. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t give up anything. There was only so much money to go around, and I’m certainly able to rustle for myself. I had all the show I needed, when I needed it. I don’t know as I would have stayed back East long enough to take a degree, anyhow, only to please the old man. It’s lots of fun to make a hand on the range, and I don’t figure to be a cow hand forever, nohow. But, say, how did you know I was passing this way? Of course I would have come in to say hello, anyhow, but you beat me to it, sending out word you wanted to see me.”
“Oh, I keep tab on lots of things, son.” Old Sayre’s eyes twinkled. “There’s a lot of cowmen an’ cow business passes through this bank. Su’prise yo’, how well they keep me posted on who’s who, and what’s what. Now, I didn’t send fo’ yo’, Rock, just to ask after yo’ health, this time. Yo’ goin’ No’th with a Seventy Seven trail herd?”
“Right through to Montana,” Rock nodded.
“What do yo’-all aim to do after yo’ get there?” Sayre inquired. “Stay on with the Seventy Seven?”
“Don’t think so.” Rock frowned slightly. “I’d as soon work right along, but I don’t know as I like this outfit well enough to tie to.”
“Yo’ mean yo’ don’t cotton much to yo’ boss?” the old man supplied.
“Well, perhaps. Know him?”
“A Duffy, ain’t he?”