“Plenty Doors tried. They say they won’t sell them horses at any price, except to the slaughterhouse. Their instructions is to eliminate livestock off of the range so as to let the grass come back. Too many horses, too many cattle, no damn rain and no grass. When Joe kept after them, they said they might sell a few of the best mustangs, but Big Bill Bury won’t let it happen.”

“What does Bill have to do with it?”

“He’s taken a dislike to mustangs and wants to see ’em all dead. Says they eat too much of the grass on government land. Plenty Doors told me that Bill is mad because he aint much of a horseman, tried to break a mustang on his own last year and the horse throwed him and broke three ribs.”

Eli chuckled. “We owe that horse a debt of gratitude. Bill’s needed to have a few ribs broke pretty much since he was born.”

Just then Willie Thaw came strolling up from the bunkhouse, trailed by Zeke Ketcham and the big spotted Poland China boar that followed Zeke everywhere. The hog weighed better than six hundred pounds and it was still growing. It made Eli nervous. Sometimes it would leave off following Zeke and tag around after Eli instead. It seemed like every time he stopped short, the boar had its snout between his boots, sniffing around like he was wondering how Eli would taste. Now and then he’d boot it on the nose and the boar would grunt and back off a foot or two, but as soon as he turned around, the hog would be back on his heels. At least it heeled better than Rufus, who was always diving into holes after porcupines or skunks, with results that could be unattractive.

Willie Thaw was walking fast, as usual, and he was hungry, as usual. “Juanita got the bacon and hotcakes on?”

“You can smell it your own self.”

Zeke followed Willie into the house. The boar waddled over to where the pipe to the water tank had sprung a leak that left a trail of mud in the dust. It settled into the mud like a man under a goose-down quilt. Eli kept one eye on the hog. “I still don’t see the point,” he said. “You’re just runnin off a bunch a horses you don’t aim to keep. I don’t believe they would hang you, but somebody might take a few shots in your direction. Don’t seem to me the reward is worth the risk.”

“The way Plenty Doors sees it, it would be like puttin the black out to stud. Any colt of his is goin to have some bottom to it.”

“I suppose, but there aint a thing to stop anybody at all from ridin up there and helping himself to a few colts.”