“Thanks for interceding with your friend the marshal,” she said. “But please go now. You’ve had Bart to yourself all day.”
Carver nodded assent, mounted and rode off down the street. As he passed the Silver Dollar he felt the single coin in his pocket.
“That’s what I’m capitalized at,” he said. “Just one little measly silver dollar. That’s my invoice. This morning I could have added a horse, a house and an extra saddle to the statement. Now I’m out the saddle and owe Hinman a sum sufficient to offset the value of both horse and house. I’d sell under the hammer for a single dollar bill. The lady read my face value at a glance and dismissed me offhand without another look.”
He saw the two elder Lassiter brothers riding south at the next street intersection. It was quite dark when he cleared the town and as he rode on through the night he was conscious of a mild dissatisfaction. He drew forth his last coin and addressed it.
“I’ve rode into town with a many a dollar on me,” he said. “But this is about the first time I ever rode out and packed one away with me. That shows I’m growing more conservative right along. You must be a lucky little devil or else you wouldn’t have stayed with me till I got out of town.” He slipped the coin back into his pocket. “Little lonely dollar, you must mount up to a million.”
He heard the low rumble of animal voices and knew that Hinman’s cows were being held on the bed ground somewhere just ahead. The old man greeted him as he rode up.
“I’m sending Bradshaw and four others with you,” he announced. “One of the boys is holding the pack outfit back behind. He’ll follow. I’ll help you get ’em on their feet and moving.”
The men spread out at intervals to the north of the herd, riding along its edge and crowding the cows on the near fringe to their feet. They worked cautiously, for any slight commotion of an unusual nature, the weird flap of a garment or any cry too startling, might serve to throw a few cows into a panic which would be swiftly communicated to the rest and put the whole herd off the bed ground in a mad stampede. Their chief concern was to prevent a disastrous night run. The affair was skilfully handled and the near fringe of cows rose reluctantly, crowded back through the ranks of their reclining fellows and raising them in turn till eventually the whole herd was up and drifting south.
The moon rose sharp and clear as they crossed into the Strip and for hours they forged slowly ahead, their course a trifle south of west. When they had covered ten miles the forward drift of the herd was arrested and the tired cows bedded down at once.
“From now on they’re in your hands, son,” Hinman said to Carver. “I’ll back any deal you make with the outfits off to the south, so play her the best you know.”