Chapter 3

“You ever work cows before?”

Mal looked up, trying to ascertain where the question came from. All four men had their heads down, all four chewed on their tobacco, and all four were studying their grimy cards.

“Yes.”

“I heard you were from New York.”

“My father was born there. I’ve never been to New York.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

Now Mal could tell who he was speaking to. The oldest of the four men, he had long gray whiskers and long gray hair beneath his dusty hat. Washed-out blue eyes regarded him from beneath the rim, and Mal thought he saw something distinctly hostile on the man’s creased face.

“I’m from Ohio.”

“Not much better than New York, if you ask me.”

“Nobody asked you, Jack. Are you playing or are you yapping?” This man’s voice was deeper, but younger. The other two at the table grunted in agreement.