Free Pinto Lowery by G. Clifton Wisler Page B

too,” Richardson added.
    â€œThat makes a difference, do it?”
    â€œLet me sketch you a map that’ll get you to the Oakes place,” Richardson offered. “You tell Tully I sent you over.”
    â€œPa, I’ll take him,” Jared offered. “Be good to visit a hair with Tru.”
    â€œDon’t you jaw the night away, son. I’ve got words to share with you tomorrow. We’ll be headin’ north directly. I have things to tell you and Arabella.”
    â€œSure,” Jared agreed.
    â€œBe best not to send you ridin’ out that way by twilight,” Richardson said, turning back to Pinto. “But tomorrow the Oakes men’ll be busy. Time to make a bargain’s tonight. Set you a fair price, too, Pinto. In writin’. Tully’s never been one to recall his agreements.”
    â€œI’ll write it up myself,” Jared promised. “By way o’ returnin’ a favor.”
    â€œGet along with you now,” Richardson ordered his son. “I’ve got a final word for Pinto.”
    â€œSure, Pa,” Jared agreed as he turned toward the horses.
    â€œDon’t need to say it,” Pinto whispered. “It’s on yer face and in yer eyes. I’ll give a look after ’em.”
    â€œIt’d be appreciated,” Richardson said, shaking Pinto’s hand in a firm farewell grip. “See you get everything written down. Only way to deal with Tully Oakes.”
    â€œSure,” Pinto said, releasing Richardson’s hand and heading back to where the big black stood restlessly pawing the ground. Then, with the packhorse trailing along behind, Pinto Lowery followed Jared Richardson out of the cattle camp.

Chapter 7
    â€œPa’s done you no favors, sendin’ you out to see Tully Oakes,” Jared declared as they rode. “I never knew another man half as contrary as ole Tully. Truett, he’s as good a friend as you’d want, and Miz Oakes’s just fine, too. Ole Tully’s one to watch, though. He’s back-slid on so many promises to Tru, well, it’s hard to see why the either of ’em bothers comin’ to terms. Tully’ll only break ’em. Last summer Pa advanced Tully money against what the steers would bring at market. Never saw a dime of it again. Ben Moorehead put a roof on the Oakes barn, but did he get paid? Not as I heard.”
    â€œKnowin’ yer pa to feel such, I wonder he steered me here,” Pinto said as they approached a small picket cabin standing beside a clapboard barn. “Or why he’d take dis Oakes to Kansas with him.”
    â€œThat’s on account of Elsie Oakes bein’ kin. Ma’s cousin. As to takin’ Tully, I’d guess Pa figures to get some o’ his money back for the trouble last summer. He thought to leave ’em to get their own steers north, but then Elsie, Tru, and the little ones’d only starve. You ask me, it’d be better all ’round to leave Tully and take little Ben. He’s nought but twelve, but I wager he’d be more use.”
    â€œHave to be a mighty hard twelve to make it to Wichita,” Pinto said, frowning. “Sometimes hardship gives a man backbone, too. Maybe dis Dully Oakes jus’ needs a chance.”
    â€œMaybe,” Jared said. He wasn’t half convinced.
    Shortly Pinto was to have a chance to judge matters for himself, though. A shaggy-haired boy, lean and hard for fourteen, stepped out from the house and called a friendly hello.
    â€œWhat’s got you out here with dark on its way, Jared?” the boy asked as he trotted over. “And where’d you come by that mare? She’s too fine for you by half.”
    â€œMeet Pinto Lowery, Tru,” Jared replied. “He’s a horse chaser from out west a bit. Bought this mare off him.”
    â€œI could use a horse, Jared, but you know we got no cash to spare. Sorry, mister, but you won’t find much market