“You’ll have to ask Connie,” returned Lefty with a shrug. “I don’t know nothin’ about it.”
“I was just looking for you, Mr. Blakeman,” said Connie. “I found the man lying on the trail. He’s down on his luck and hasn’t had a square meal in days. I brought him here. I thought you might find some work for him to do.”
“We can’t pay the men we have now,” the foreman snapped. “Anyway, I don’t like the looks of this fellow.”
“I do,” said Connie quietly. “My father never would have turned a man away when he was hungry and half-sick.”
“He’s no more sick than you are,” retorted the foreman. “I can tell when a guy is puttin’ on.”
“I don’t agree with you at all,” returned Connie. “What reason would he have for pretending that he was ill?”
“I don’t like him,” said Blakeman stubbornly. “We ought to cut down expenses wherever we can.”
“A few dollars won’t make any difference now. I wish you would hire him, Mr. Blakeman.”
“We could use a herder,” spoke up Lefty. “The cattle in that southeast section have been gittin’ out into the road. Another calf was killed yesterday.”
The foreman glared angrily at the cowboy and started to walk away.