Already he thought she belonged to him, and the other men thought so too. She felt like a lope, in fact. Well, I've been a deputy sheriff for a good spell, Roscoe said. Mexicans don't have no special dispensation.
Lippy fanned himself with his bowler, and most of the other hands were just sitting around wishing it was cooler. He was standing in knee-high water, between a gaunt horse and a little brown pack mule, both of which had sunk past their hocks in the river mud. Of course, he had prospered in the horse business, mainly because of the Army trade; he could afford to build her a house. I don't believe it was buffalo, though I know it was a buffalo gun.
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