Oakley cried. âNot Rat Hadley!â
âWell, I never knowed anybody else to lay claim to such a name,â Rat countered.
âColey, you run along to the house and fetch Mr. Hanks,â Oakley instructed the boy behind them. âTell him the worst excuse for a wrangler to come out oâ Texasâs come to see him.â
âSir?â Coley asked.
âTell him J. C.âs boy is here,â Oakley added. âAnd be quick âbout it. This particular fellow is apt as not to slip through our fingers. Was forever rid inâ off to swim a creek or run some horses when I set him to some other task.â
âSounds familiar,â Coley said, grinning at Rat. âIâll be tellinâ him, Payne.â
Oakley waved his other companion back to work, then escorted Rat to a water tank. They left their horses to have a drink. Then Rat passed ten minutes filling in the ranch foreman on two years of growing and wandering.
âRoadâs made you hard, Rat,â Oakley observed.
âRoadâs been hard, Payne.â
âThatâs a blessinâ, son. Later on youâll see it so yourself. Easy path leaves a man soft. And this country ainât one to forgive a manâs shortcominâs. No, sir. It buries âem.â
âBuried Pa.â
âAnd he was never short oâ the mark, Rat. Best kind oâ man.â
âSo I guess beinâ hardâs not enough. You got to be lucky.â
âWell, that helps,â Oakley confessed. âBut in the final accountinâ, that ainât enough, neither. Manâs got to stand tall when the winds blow.â
Rat grinned and shook his head. J. C. Hadley had been a man to talk that way. But hard and tall didnât land a man a job. It was Orville Hanks that would decide that.
Hanks appeared on the broad veranda of his house with two of his sons. Rat hadnât known any of the Hanks boys very well, what with their being older, and he merely shook their hands politely and agreed to taking after J. C., especially in the face.
âBandy-legged, too,â the elder Hanks observed. âLikely from all them cactus spines you put in your seat mustang huntinâ.â
âFigured thatâd be a long time forgotten,â Rat said, laughing. â âCept by me, oâ course.â
âWas the day we lost J. C.,â Hanks muttered. âAinât likely to be forgotten ever. They still call you Rat?â
âWith this nose?â Rat asked. âCursed permanent, you could say.â
âWell, itâs fittinâ not everythingâs changed. Come walk a way with me, Rat, and tell me whatâs brought you all the way out here. We donât get many visitors, and most oâ themâs bill collectors or salesmen.â
âIâm neither.â
âNorâs it likely after beinâ back in these parts weeks and just now cominâ here that you come to swap old stories.â
âNo, sir,â Rat admitted. âIf you know Iâve been here, I guess you also know Iâve been cuttinâ telegraph poles and helpinâ Sully Dawes string wire.â
âAinât got so old I donât know whatâs happeninâ in this county, Rat.â
âLineâs finished.â
âKnow that, too. Know youâve been doinâ some ridinâ hereabouts as well.â
âLookinâ for work,â Rat explained. âGot some money put by, but not enough to keep me fed through winter. And a man needs somethinâ to put his hands to.â
âI canât help you, son.â
âYou know, Mr. Hanks, ainât anybody Iâd give leave to call me that. Not with Pain his grave. But you, and Payne, and maybe Sheriff Cathcart all done a share oâ puttinâ me on my feet once. You give me a chance to get past hard circumstances and prove myself.â
âItâs no small pride I take in it, Rat,â
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