Everyone in the bunkhouse pretties up. Beards are shaved or trimmed, hair combed. All slip into clean clothes. One thing I like about the ranch is Rosita does the wash as well as the cooking. Her daughter, Elena, who looks maybe ten, helps out. Far as I can tell, there’s no husband, no father to the child.
It appears the custom is for all the men to ride to town together. We all get paid before leaving, ten dollars to me, maybe more for the others who’ve been on the ranch longer. Added to money I already have, I’m feeling plush.
Bunch rides in with us, in the lead beside Roe. We walk for a good bit, nobody eager for hard riding after a week in the saddle.
“What’s their names?” I ask Lane. “First names.”
“Bunch is Don, Sisto is Arlen, Sims is Edgar, and Roe is Ted. I almost have to thin
