"--and countin' the Concho stuff--I'd say something like two hundred
head," the messenger was saying. "Brent'll be in to-morrow, long 'bout
noon. So far, she worked slick. No trouble and a show of gettin'
through without any trouble. Not much young stock, so they're drivin'
fast."
Brevoort turned to Pete. "Take this horse over to the corral. Tell
Moody that Harper is in, and that the boys will be here in a couple of
days. He'll know what to do."
Pete rode at a high lope, leading the thoroughbred, and wondering why
the messenger had not gone on to the corral. Moody, the cook, a
grizzled, heavy-featured man, too old for hard riding, expressed no
surprise at Pete's message, but awakened the Mexican stableman and told
him to fetch up a "real one," which the Mexican did with alertness,
returning to the house leading another sleek and powerful thoroughbred.
"Take him over to the shack," said Moody. "Harper wants him." And he
gave Pete a package of food which he had been preparing while the
Mexican was at the stable.
When Pete returned to the line shack he found Brevoort sitting in the
doorway smoking, and the messenger asleep on the ground, his head on
his saddle.
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