Free Pinto Lowery by G. Clifton Wisler Page A

of the chestnut Jared’s ridin’ ?”
    â€œShe’s special,” the boy answered as he dismounted. “Mr. Lowery’s also lookin’ to sign on with a trail crew.”
    â€œWell, Mr. Lowery and I’ll do business on the first count anyway,” Richardson announced.
    â€œAin’t no mister to me,” Pinto said as he climbed down from the big black. “Call me Pinto.”
    â€œI’m Ryan,” Richardson said, accepting Pinto’s proffered hand. “These three look sound. I pay twenty-five for saddle ponies, but I judge you’ll want more.”
    â€œForty’s fair,” Pinto answered. “If you want to dicker, best call it fifty. Make you feel you got me down some when I sell ’em fer forty.”
    â€œForty’s fair,” Richardson agreed. “I’ll count out the cash.” While Richardson walked off a moment, Jared stepped over and stared longingly at the chestnut.
    â€œIf you’d sell her, Pinto, I’d see she got treated easy,” the boy whispered. “I got seventy dollars saved up. Come by honest, too. Ask Pa. Mostly from workin’ deerhides or helpin’ neighbors get in their corn.”
    â€œI figured to breed her,” Pinto explained.
    â€œKnow that,” the boy confessed. “But I’d see you got a colt by and by. Seventy dollars ain’t much of a price, I merit, but it’s what I got in my boot.”
    Pinto turned from the boy to the horse. The two were a pair. There was no denying it. Sometimes a horse ought to go to a man who had wildfire in his heart. Jared sat down and pulled off his boot. He held out a fistful of crumpled notes, and Pinto grinned.
    â€œDone,” the mustanger agreed, taking the money and gripping the youngster’s hand.
    â€œHear that?” Jared asked, hugging the chestnut’s neck. “You’re mine, girl.”
    â€œWhat?” Richardson asked as he rejoined them. “You bought that mare, son? You must be a better haggler than me.”
    â€œOh, I wouldn’t wager that,” Jared replied. “It’s just I watched him with those horses. He knew I wanted her bad.”
    â€œYou’d never make a proper rancher,” Richardson said as he paid Pinto for the mustangs. “No love o’ hagglin’ and too much heart. Still, I thank you for makin’ a youngster happy.”
    â€œYou could return de favor,” Pinto said, stuffing the money into his pocket and scrawling his name on two bills of sale. “I had in my mind headin’ north dis summer.”
    â€œI got a full crew,” Richardson said, sighing. “Look out there. Two thousand head. A third’s from neighbors, and they’ll slow us down fattenin’ up. Look around at my outfit now. Lord, I got near every boychild with chin whiskers for fifty miles around. And a few without.”
    â€œSome o’ those boys won’t make it pas’ de Nations,” Pinto said sadly. “I know. I been dere. Look yonder at that one. Cain’t even get his toes in his stirrups!”
    â€œI made promises to my neighbors,” Richardson explained. “Joe Bill Trask there’s as close to a man’s that family’s got. Wages he earns’ll keep hunger from his door. People hereabouts have had it hard. Money’s needed to pay taxes and buy seed. Their kids want shoes and such. Can’t take a stranger and leave a friend to suffer.”
    â€œUnnerstand that,” Pinto muttered. “But a man needs a purpose to put himself too.”
    â€œSure, he does,” Richardson agreed. “Tell you what. I’ve signed on Tully Oakes and his boy Truett. They’ve got a nice enough place, and they put in a good crop of corn. Could be they’d favor havin’ a man around to keep watch over that corn.”
    â€œAin’t a farmer.”
    â€œLikely Tully could do with a man to watch Elsie and the little ones,