“Look here, Connie,” Lefty began to protest, but his voice trailed off as Forest Blakeman swung into view.
The foreman, still smarting from his recent humiliation at the rodeo, was in a bad mood.
“You might do a little work, Lefty, instead of loafing around all morning,” he said curtly. “Get those calves watered.”
“They’re already watered,” Lefty muttered but he moved away from the corral.
The foreman turned to Connie, making no attempt to disguise his annoyance.
“A nice mess we’re in now, Miss Connie! It seems to me you might have consulted me before you decided to turn this place into a dude ranch! Just how do you think we’ll be able to feed and entertain a house full of guests when we can’t even pay our regular help?”
“Everything would have turned out all right if only I hadn’t been robbed.”
“Aren’t you forgetting that the sixteenth of the month isn’t far away?”
“Oh, I’m beaten,” Connie acknowledged. “I realize that. There’s no chance my money will ever be recovered.”
The foreman was silent for a moment. Then he said in a lowered tone: