"Well yeh will know when I git through—same as Doc Godkins'll know when I have a little talk with him. Yer both a-goin' to help, you an' Doc. Yeh see, they was a nester's gal died, a year back, over on Beaver Crick, an' Doc tended her. 'Tarford fever,' says Doc. But ol' Lazy Y Freeman paid the freight, an' he thinks about as much of the nesters as what he does of a rattlesnake. I was ridin' fer the Lazy Y outfit, an' fer quite a spell 'fore this tarford fever business the ol' man use to ride the barb wire along Beaver, reg'lar. Yeh know how loose ol' Lazy Y is with his change? A dollar don't loom no bigger to him than the side of Sugar Loaf Butte, an' it slips through his fingers as easy as a porkypine could back out of a gunnysack. Well, that there dose of tarford fever that the nester gal died of cost ol' Lazy Y jest a even thousan' bucks. An' Doc Godkins got it."
The cowpuncher paused and the bartender picked up his glass. "Drink up," he said, "an' have another. I do'no what yer talkin' about but it's jest as bad to not have enough red licker in under yer belt when y' go to make a ride as 'tis to have too much."
"Never yeh mind about the licker. I c'n reg'late my own drinks to suit me. Mebbe I got more'n a ride a-comin' to me 'fore tonight's over."
The bartender eyed him questioningly: "You usta win 'em all—buckin', an' ropin', an'——"
"Yes, I usta!" sneered the other. "An' I could now if it wasn't fer that Texas son of a ——! Fer three years hand runnin' he's drug down everything he's went into. He c'n out-rope me an' out-ride me, but he can't out-guess me! An' some day he's goin' to have to out-shoot me. I'm goin' to win the buckin' contest, an' the ropin', too. See?" The man's fist pounded the bar.
The bartender nodded; "Well, here's to you."
Once more Purdy fixed the man with his black-eyed stare. "Yes. But they's a heap more a-comin' from you than a 'here's to yeh.'"
"Meanin'?" asked the other, as he mechanically swabbed the bar.
"Meanin' that you an' Doc's goin' to help me do it. An' that hain't all. Tonight 'long 'bout dance time I want that saddle horse o' yourn an' yer sideways saddle, too. They's a gal o' mine come in on the train, which she'll be wantin', mebbe, to take a ride, an' hain't fetched no split-up clothes fer to straddle a real saddle. That sideways contraption you sent fer 'fore yer gal got to ridin' man-ways is the only one in Wolf River, an' likewise hern's the only horse that'll stand fer bein' rigged up in it."
"Sure. You're welcome to the horse an' saddle, Jack. The outfit's in the livery barn. Jest tell Ross to have him saddled agin' you want him. He's gentled down so's a woman c'n handle him all right."