Free Gather My Horses by John D. Nesbitt

will be there?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    They turned into the lane of Selby’s place a little over half an hour later. A light breeze rippled through the box elders and young cottonwoods as Bill Selby stood in his yard waiting. He was about the same age as Lodge, and although he had a sturdy build, he was starting to fill out above the waist and go swayback. As Fielding rode closer, henoticed the man’s puffy lower eyelids and sun-reddened cheekbones, plus a day or two of stubble that accentuated his square jaws.
    Selby had a broad smile as he nodded his head up and down. “Mornin’,” he called out.
    â€œGood mornin’,” Fielding answered.
    â€œThe others should be here right along. Go ahead and tie up.”
    Fielding and Bracken dismounted, and the kid took both sets of reins. As he led the horses away, Selby said, “That’s not the same kid, is it?”
    â€œNo, I think that other one got a job somewhere else.”
    â€œHuh.” Selby turned to peer at the trees on the west side, and as he did, the leather gloves in his hip pocket waved like the tail feathers on a bantam rooster. “Andy ought to be here right away,” he said. “He’s not that far away, and he said he’d come early.”
    A couple of minutes later, Roe came in through the trees. He waved to Selby and Fielding, gave Bracken in his new clothes a looking-over, and eased down from the saddle.
    Selby smiled at Fielding. “Well, that leaves Richard. We can go in, pour a cup of coffee, and get going if we want to.” He started out for the house, with his gloves coming into view again.
    Roe finished tying his horse and walked past the kid without speaking. Fielding had the impression that Roe practiced treating young men as if they were under suspicion of wanting to abduct his daughter. Fielding had sensed some rebuffing from the old scavenger in the past, and he imagined that Roe was more civil to him now for thesame reason Selby overflowed with friendship. Fielding was on their side now.
    As Selby stopped to greet Roe, Fielding came alongside and introduced them both to Ed Bracken. Roe’s glance slid over him again, and Selby said, “You can watch the horses if you want. If an old boy comes in from thataway, you can tell him we’re inside.”
    â€œHe means Lodge,” said Fielding.
    Bracken’s dusty hat went up and down as he nodded.
    Selby led the way inside to the kitchen, where four wooden chairs sat around a table covered with a stained oilcloth. To the right stood a grease-spattered cookstove, and to the left a stack of dirty dishes sat on the sideboard.
    â€œHave a seat,” said the host, looking out the window. “Hey, here’s Richard now.” He set out four cups, lifted a blue enamel coffeepot from the stove, and poured out the coffee.
    Lodge knocked as he opened the door, and Selby called for him to come in. Greetings went around as Lodge came into the kitchen.
    When everyone was seated, Selby began. “Here’s how I’ve got it figured. If anyone else has a different idea, why, let me know.” His light blue eyes moved around the table, and he continued. “I’ve got the wagon, as you know. Along with that I’ve got ten or twelve horses—at least ten that’ll work. The other two are pretty green until I get someone to ride ’em. Richard, you’ve got two, and, Andy, you’ve got half a dozen, you said.”
    Roe’s eyes opened and closed. “That’s right. I need to leave one at home, just in case.”
    â€œThat’s fine. Now, let’s see. How many more do we have?” The blue eyes came to Fielding.
    â€œI’ve got nine head. I think most of ’em will do all right. A couple of the slow, steady ones might do best at night herding.”
    â€œOr wagon horses.”
    Fielding did not answer.
    Selby went on. “Of course, a couple of mine can do that.