“Then I’ll be able to borrow only a thousand dollars from you to help buy that bunch of young cows we were speaking about,” she mocked.
“Only a thousand,” he grinned. “And it ain’t a cinch I’ll win. There are three or four straightup riders on this range. A fellow come from the Hole-in-the-Wall and won out last year.”
“And where were you?”
“Oh, I took second prize,” he explained, with obvious indifference.
“Well, you had better get first this year. We’ll have to show them the Lazy D hasn’t gone to sleep.”
“Sure thing,” he agreed.
“Has that buyer from Cheyenne turned up yet?” she asked, reverting to business.
“Not yet. Do y’u want I should make the cut soon as he comes?”
“Don’t you think his price is a little low—twenty dollars from brand up?”
“It’s a scrub bunch. We want to get rid of them, anyway. But you’re the doctor,” he concluded slangily.