Free Buffalo Trail by Jeff Guinn Page B

ranchers in the area might be needing a good hand.”
    â€œI can stay on a horse if it doesn’t move too fast, but no more than that. What I’m good at is talking to people, making arrangements. I can do sums fairly well. I can read acceptably.”
    Shorty shook his head. “In this part of the country, those are slender talents. I fear all you’ll be good for is slop work, washing dishes or cleaning privies and such.”
    McLendon sighed. “I suppose that’s the fate I deserve.” He gulped the last of his coffee and pushed back from the table. “Thanks for breakfast. Now I need to commence knocking on doors and find some sort of employment. If I don’t find any right away, I suppose I’ll be reduced to selling my belongings.”
    â€œWhat you got?” Shorty asked. “We’ve had steady business and I might be willing to buy.”
    â€œThere’s a fine suit, custom-tailored in St. Louis.”
    â€œI doubt it would fit. Besides, I have little occasion to wear a fine suit. What else?”
    â€œA good Navy Colt, only used once. And a book that I’ll never sell, for sentimental reasons.”
    Ike said, “It’s gotten too hard to get ammunition for Navy Colts. And even if you wanted to part with the book, you’d find little interest. Notmany people in Texas bother with books. That is, if they can even read at all.”
    â€œWell, then, I guess I’ll find employment here or sleep hungry and on the ground tonight.”
    Isaac and Shorty exchanged glances.
    â€œFort Griffin doesn’t abound with jobs,” the taller brother said. “If you’re of a mind, you could come with us to Kansas. Dodge City’s a new town and a rough sort of place, but there are jobs of all sorts available. At the very least we could help you catch on with some of the hide men, to work in their camps. When you recover from financial embarrassment, you can go on to California. The train comes through Dodge City, you see.”
    Anything seemed better to McLendon than being stuck in Fort Griffin, and he thought that Dodge City didn’t sound like the kind of place where Killer Boots would come looking for him. “I couldn’t pay you for the transportation,” he said.
    Shorty waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t fret about it. We’ll be glad of the company, and it won’t be the most comfortable journey. We sleep in the wagon beds at night, and beans and biscuits make up the entire menu. Say, I hope you don’t mind dogs. Isaac’s got this big-ass Newfoundland named Maurice that he treats better than me.”
    â€œBecause Maurice has got better manners,” Isaac said.
    â€œAt least I go into the bushes when I feel the need to shit. Anyway, McLendon, you can help with the horses and otherwise make yourself useful. Trip takes about ten days, less we run into Indians and have to scurry to save our hair. Will you join us?”
    â€œI’d be proud to,” McLendon said. “And I’m grateful for the chance.”
    It rained most of the trip, and because of the mud and some flooding they didn’t reach Dodge City for eighteen days. McLendon spent almost every day soaked to the skin, and on the one night it didn’t rain and theycould sit out beside a campfire, the Newfoundland took an unnatural liking to McLendon and kept humping his leg.
    â€œLet loose of McLendon, Maurice,” Isaac called as McLendon pried the dog off. Maurice was determined and made several more attempts before he finally retreated under a wagon, where he lay panting and eying McLendon with an unnerving expression of lust.
    â€œI think Maurice loves you,” Shorty said.
    â€œThe feeling’s not mutual,” McLendon said. He wanted to rub his leg but thought better of it—Maurice might take it as an invitation. “I’m not fond of dogs anyway. This one eats as much as a man and spooks the horses