"Hello, Miguel. Nope. I'm taking lessons in tendin' to my own business—like them." And Collie nodded toward the horses.
"Ain't he purty?" said Billy Dime. "All fussed up and walkin' round like a new rooster introducin' hisself to a set of strange hens. Oh, pshaw!"
"And you're making a noise like one of the hens trying to get the notice of the new rooster, I guess."
"Well, seem' I got the notice, come on over and I'll show you where they keep the ice—with things on it," said Billy Dime.
The Moonstone riders dismounted, slapped the dust from their shirts and trousers, and ambled over toward the refreshments.
The little group, happy, talkative, pledged each other and the Moonstone Ranch generously.
Brand Williams, close to Collie, nudged him. "If you are thinkin' of takin' a fall out of the outlaw cayuse, don't hit this stuff much," he said. And Collie nodded.
The Moonstoners would one and all back Boyar for a place in the finals of the pony races, despite the Mexican "outfit" that already mingled with them making bets on their favorite pinto.
"Who's ridin' Boyar?" queried Bud Light.
"In the races? Why, Miguel here," said Williams, slapping the Mexican on the shoulder. "He don't weigh much, but he's some glue-on-a-sliver when it comes to racin' tricks. The other Mexicans are after our pesos this time. Last year we skinned 'em so bad with Boyar takin' first that some of 'em had to wait till dark to go home."