“There was some reputed bronk peelers nursin’ mules overseas,” he mused. “Their daddies would sure have been mortified to see ’em.”
“We didn’t dry nurse no mules, pilgrim,” said Sucatash. “When did you lick Hindenburg?”
De Launay condescended to notice them. “In the battle of vin rouge,” he said. “I reckon you-all musta won a round or two with the vin sisters, yourselves.” 101
“You’re sure a-sayin’ something, old-timer,” said Dave, with emotion. For the first time he saw the rosette in De Launay’s buttonhole. “You done a little more’n café fightin’ though, to get that?”
De Launay shrugged his shoulders. “They give those for entertainin’ a politician,” he answered. “Any cow hands out of a job around here?”
Both of the men chuckled. “You aimin’ to hire any riders?”
“I could use a couple to wrangle pilgrims in the Esmeraldas. More exactly, there’s a lady, aimin’ to head into the mountains and she’ll need a couple of packers.”
“This lady don’t seem to have no respect for snow and blizzards, none whatever,” was the comment.
“Which she hasn’t, bein’ troubled with notions about gold mines and such things. She needs taking care of.”
“Ridin’ the Esmeraldas this time o’ year and doin’ chores for Pop all winter strikes me as bein’ about a toss-up,” said the man called Sucatash. “I reckon it’s a certainty that Pop requires considerable labor, though, and maybe this demented lady won’t. If the wages is liberal——”