AC dBooks

I reckon I
jest got to go."
"Then it is that you go. I will find another to help. You have been a
good boy. You do not like the sheep--but the horses. I know that you
have been saving the money. You have not bought cartridges. I would
give you--"
"Hold on--you give me my money day before yesterday."
"Then you have a little till you get your wages from the Concho. It is
good."
"Oh, I'm broke all right," said Pete. "But that don't bother me none.
I paid Roth for that gun I swiped--"
"You steal the gun?"
"Well, it wa'n't jest _stealin'_ it. Roth he never paid me no wages,
so when I lit out I took her along and writ him it was for wages."
"Then why did you pay him?"
Pete frowned. "I dunno."
Montoya nodded. He stooped and fumbled in a pack. Pete wondered what
the old man was hunting for.
Presently, Montoya drew out the hand-carved belt and holster, held it
up, and inspected it critically. He felt of it with his calloused
hands, and finally gestured to Pete. "It is for you, muchacho. I made
it. Stand so. There, it should hang this way.


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