Hank spat over the lines.
“It’s a good firm to work for,” he said. “And a man’s job. After you’ve bull whacked a while you’ll be drivin’ stage like I am.”
That sounded attractive. To handle four mules at a gallop, dragging a coach across the plains in spite of Indians and weather, appeared quite a feat. Driving stage meant taking care of people as well as of animals.
However, holding up one’s end with a freight outfit was not to be despised, these days. On arriving at Leavenworth Davy lost no time in reporting at the Russell, Majors & Waddell office. Mr. Majors was not here. He had removed his family up to Nebraska City, on the Missouri above Leavenworth, where a branch office had been established in order to relieve the crowded state of the Leavenworth shipping yards. However, if Mr. Majors was gone, here was Mr. Russell, as snappy and alert as ever, taking care of whatever came his way.
“All right, my boy,” he greeted promptly. “If you want a job you’re just in time. When did you get in?”
“This noon, Mr. Russell.”
“I suppose you’re ready to start back again for the mountains?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. We’ve got a train made up to leave in about an hour. Charley Martin’s wagon master. You’ll find him a fine fellow. He comes from a wealthy family in my home town, Lexington, Missouri. You’ll be an ‘extra’ at forty dollars a month, and have a mule to ride. I expect you to do as well as Billy Cody’s done. You know what your duties are, do you? You’ll act as the wagon master’s orderly, or messenger, to carry word along the line; and if necessary you’ll fill the place of any hand who’s sick. Let’s see—you signed the pledge once, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Mr. Russell.”