Joe rode up to the table where I was struggling to compose my half-dimer.

“I never thought Billy would consent to cross that river,” he said. “I guess he got over his superstition.”

Billy immediately popped out of Katie’s hut—he had heard Joe’s voice. Having a girlfriend had put a little shine on him. He walked with a good deal of swagger, and sometimes even brushed his hair with an old horse brush he had found somewhere.

“Ain’t it bully down here in Mexico?” he said to Joe.

“It’s sunny, but I do miss the plains,” Joe said. “I’m fonder of the grassier places myself.”

Katie came skipping out then, in a fine humor.

“Here’s that tall broncobuster,” she said, giving Joe a big hug. It was clear she really liked Joe Lovelady.

Billy watched them with some suspicion—he was a jealous boy—but was in too good a mood to fuss.

“What’s the news from Tularosa?” he asked. “We don’t hear much down here.”

“Oh, there’s still a war on the Whiskey Glass,” Joe said. “The Texans chased the gunfighters out of Lincoln.”

“Was there much slaughter?” Billy inquired.

“No pitched battles yet,” Joe said. “But Moss Kuykendall and Ike Pumpelly are dead. They were headed for Santa Fe and ran into a posse of Texans.”

“Those men are regular roadrunners, ain’t they?” Billy said, with some contempt. “Where’d they let themselves get chased to now?”

“Anton Chico,” Joe said. “It’s north up the Pecos stream. I expect the old man will send his tall nigger to clean them out any day.”

“That old fool should let people alone,” Billy muttered.

“I wouldn’t call him a fool,” Katie said. “Pa’s old, but he ain’t a fool.”

“Well, I can’t get comfortable with a man like that, even if he is your pa,” Billy said. “I don’t know that I can tolerate his damn sass.”

“Just let him get old and die, chapito,” Katie said mildly. “He’s too rough to fight.”

Billy just bristled the more when she said it. Something in her tone pricked his vanity. He was an untried boy who had acquired a big reputation from doing little or nothing, and now no one could persuade him he didn’t deserve the reputation.

“Why’s he too rough to fight?” he asked. “He looks like a damn old farmer, and that old horse he rides wouldn’t even make good soap.”

Katie saw her mistake and let it pass, but Billy just grew hotter. I believe he wanted us all to agree that he had more ginger than any man in the West.

“What makes you think he’s too rough to fight?” he asked again.

“Because all the people who fought him are gone,” Katie said. “The Comanches fought him, and they’re gone. I don’t suppose you’re as tough as a Comanche.”