"You bet! She's the boss. If Ma don't like a guy, he don't work long
for the Concho. I recollect when Steve Gary quit over the T-Bar-T and
come over here lookin' for a job. Ma she sized him up, but didn't say
nothin' right away. But Gary he didn't stay long enough to git a
saddle warm. Ma didn't like him, nohow. He sure was a top-hand--but
that didn't help him none. He's over to the T-Bar-T now. Seen him the
other day. He's got some kind of a drag there, for they took him back.
Folks says--say, what's bitin' you?"

"Nothin'. You said Gary?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I was jest thinkin'."

Young Andy dried his face on the community towel, emptied the basin
with a flourish which drenched the pup and sent him yelping toward the
house, attempted to shy the basin so that it would land right-side up
on the bench--but the basin was wet and soapy and slipped. It sailed
through the door of the bunk-house and caromed off Bill Haskins's head.
Andy saw what had happened and, seizing Pete's arm, rushed him across
the clearing and into the house, where he grabbed Ma Bailey and kissed
her heartily, scrambled backward as she pretended to threaten him with
the mammoth coffee-pot, and sat down at the table with the remark that
he was "powerful tired."

"You act like it," scoffed Mrs. Bailey.

Bill Haskins, with a face like black thunder, clumped in and asked Mrs.
Bailey if she had any "stickin'-plaster."