"No. And you're not going to drink it, either. I'll see that you have everything you need. You're of age and can do as you like. But you're not going to kill yourself with whiskey."
Will Corliss stared at his brother; then laughed.
"Have one with me, Jack. You didn't used to be afraid of it."
"I'm not now, but I'm not going to take a drink with you."
"Sorry. Well, here's looking." And the brother poured himself a half-tumblerful of whiskey and gulped it down. "Now, let's talk business."
Corliss smiled despite his disgust. "All right. You talk and I'll listen."
The brother slouched to the bed and sat down. "How's the Concho been making it?" he asked.
"We've been doing pretty fair. I've been busy."
"How's old man Loring?"
"About the same."