Whit laughed. “Well, ya come on a Friday. You got two days to work till Sunday.”
“I don’t see how you figure,” said George.
Whit laughed again. “You do if you been around these big ranches much. Guy that wants to look over a ranch comes in Sat’day afternoon. He gets Sat’day night supper an’ three meals on Sunday, and he can quit Monday mornin’ after breakfast without turning his hand. But you come to work Friday noon. You got to put in a day an’ a half no matter how you figure.”
George looked at him levelly. “We’re gonna stick aroun’ a while,” he said. “Me an’ Lennie’s gonna roll up a stake.”
The door opened quietly and the stable buck put in his head; a lean negro head, lined with pain, the eyes patient. “Mr. Slim.”
Slim took his eyes from old Candy. “Huh? Oh! Hello, Crooks. What’s’ a matter?”
“You told me to warm up tar for that mule’s foot. I got it warm.”
“Oh! Sure, Crooks. I’ll come right out an’ put it on.”
“I can do it if you want, Mr. Slim.”
“No. I’ll come do it myself.” He stood up.
Crooks said, “Mr. Slim.”
“That big new guy’s messin’ around your pups out in the barn.”
“Well, he ain’t doin’ no harm. I give him one of them pups.”
“Just thought I’d tell ya,” said Crooks. “He’s takin’ ‘em outa the nest and handlin’ them. That won’t do them no good.”
“He won’t hurt ‘em,” said Slim. “I’ll come along with you now.”
George looked up. “If that crazy bastard’s foolin’ around too much, jus’ kick him out, Slim.”
Slim followed the stable buck out of the room.
George dealt and Whit picked up his cards and examined them. “Seen the new kid yet?” he asked.