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Slim showed Jake into the barn where he selected an empty stall for Blaze. After removing the saddle and brushing him down, Jake put Blaze in the stall while Slim brought some grain and hay. Slim had brought his and Todd’s horses with him and began removing the saddle on one of the horses. After Blaze was put away, Jake began removing the saddle from the other horse.
“That Todd doesn’t seem like the friendly type,” Jake said.
“Aw, you have to take him with a grain of salt,” Slim said. “He’s got a negative comment about everything. The only time you’ll hear him say anything nice is when he’s agreeing with something Mr. Holland says. Then when Mr. Holland leaves, he talks about the lame brain ideas he has.”
Jake placed the saddle on the rack and began to brush the fat man’s horse.
“You’re going to spoil that horse,” Slim told him.
Jake looked at him, puzzled.
“Todd ain’t never brushed that horse as long as I’ve known him,” Slim added. “Says it just makes the horse soft and barn balky.”
“I’ll take my chances at making them barn balky,” Jake said. “I’m not going to be putting a horse away that hasn’t been properly groomed.”
“My feel’ins exactly,” Slim said.
Jake parked his trailer and disconnected. He grabbed a few items from the sleeper and followed Slim into the bunk house.
The sleeping area of the bunkhouse was to the left. There were two bunks along the front wall, two along the rear wall and four along the left wall. Straight across from the front door was a doorway leading into a bathroom and shower. The right side of the bunkhouse was a kitchen and large table able to sit an entire crew.
“That’s my bunk there,” Slim said, pointing to the bunk closest to the bathroom door. “You can take your pick from any of the others.”
“You mean there are no other ranch hands,” Jake asked.
“Nope,” Slim said. “We’re it. Oh, we might hire some extras during round up, but mostly its just Todd and me.”
“How many cattle does Mr. Holland have,” I asked.
“We have about a thousand with the cattle from the south ranch,” Slim said. “We had enough water tanks for our own herd but when we brought in the extra cattle, we’re sett’in more windmills. Most of the pastures are to the south and west to the Rio Grande. Land up north of here has some natural springs that waters any strays wondering up that far. We tried put’in in some windmills up there but hadn’t hit water at three hundred feet.”
“How’s the pastures,” I asked.
“Dry and over grazed,” he said. “Mr. Holland has to buy hay from out of state and have it shipped in. If there was a way we could put water on the fields, we might could get the grass to hold up to the heavy graz’in.”
Slim walked to the refrigerator and pulled out two rib-eye steaks. “How you like your steak,” he asked.
“Medium rare,” I answered.
“That’s good,” he said. “You cook it more than that and it just ruins a good piece of meat. One nice thing about working on a cattle ranch is you get all the beef you can eat.” He opened a can of beans and poured them into a pan.
“Beer,” he asked, reaching into the refrigerator again.
“I don’t drink,” I said. “I’ll have a soda if you have one.”
“I don’t drink either,” he said, pulling out two Cokes. “We keep beer in here for the extra hands when we hire them on.”
We had a filling meal of steak, beans and loaf bread. Slim continued to talk telling me about the ranch, Mr. Holland and Todd.
Mr. Holland’s family had started their business by opening a restaurant. The restaurant was successful so they opened another. After a dozen restaurants in various cities throughout Texas, they decided to start raising their own beef. Raising beef for the first ten years had been successful but when the droughts started, raising their own beef was costing them money.
Todd had worked for Mr. Holland since he started raising beef. Todd was the son of one of the restaurant managers. When Mr. Holland started the ranch, Todd bluffed the man into thinking he knew everything there was to know about raising cattle.
I liked Slim. His father was a rancher and ranching was what he’d done all his life. He had a dry since of humor that kept you laughing and his own laughs were enough to be contagious.
After a shower I decided to hit the sack. Laying there with the lights off I said, “Slim, Albert said you ain’t for shit.”
He broke out into a fit of laughter and we both drifted off to sleep.
Slim and I went into Marfa the following day to pick up supplies for a windmill. He said we would be going out on Monday to drive the pipe and would probably be there most of the week.
“You got yourself a sidearm,” Slim asked.
“No,” I said. “I’m not old enough to buy one back in my home state. I do have a couple rifles that belonged to my dad.”
“A rifle is nice but you need someth’in with you all the time,” he said. “I got a friend that might misread that birth date on your ID if you slip him a few bucks so age won’t be a problem. Save you a few dollars and the next time we come for supplies we’ll pay him a visit.”
“If we have the time I’d like to go see him today,” I told him. “I’ve got a few dollars stuffed away. Besides, that’s one of the things I’ve always wanted to get when I was of age.”
“We’ll make the time,” Slim said.
We picked up the windmill supplies at the farm supply store and I bought a bedroll, some gloves and a few other items Slim suggested I may need. After we got the supplies, we headed to the gun shop where I met Slim’s friend.
“Tony,” Slim said. “This here’s Jake McAlister, a friend of mine who moved here from back east. He’s go’in to be work’in the ranch with us. Jake, this is Tony Webb.”
“Nice to meet you, Tony,” I said, shaking his hand. “I’m looking for a .45 Long Colt. Something new or lightly used.”
“We have a few off brands under the counter,” he said. “But let me check on one in the back.”
He went through a door behind the counter and came back a few minutes later with a gun wrapped in a holster and belt. He laid it on the counter in front of me and I pulled it out.
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