“You had better stop while you are ahead, Mr. Smoke Jensen,” Sally said.
“Sally, what would you say if I told you I plan to get rid of all the longhorns?”
“You’re going to get rid of all of them?” Sally asked. “I thought we were going to run both longhorns and Herefords for a while.”
“Why should I? You saw what happened when we shipped this year’s beeves. You pointed it out yourself, we barely broke even.”
“We don’t have enough Herefords.”
“We’ll buy more, plus a champion seed bull. I don’t think we have any choice,” Smoke said. “What do you think?”
“Smoke, you are the rancher here,” Sally replied. “I’m just a rancher’s wife.”
“Ha!” Smoke said, laughing out loud. “You’re just a rancher’s wife? That’s a hoot! Just a rancher’s wife, my hind leg. Sally, you know full well I’m not going to do something like that unless we both agree.”
“Well, I didn’t say I wasn’t a smart rancher’s wife,” Sally replied with a broad smile.
Before Smoke could respond, there was a knock on the kitchen door.
“That will be Cal,” Sally said.
“Of course it will be. It’s breakfast time, isn’t it? Cal always manages to find some reason to drop by at breakfast time, or dinnertime, or supper time. Or if you’ve made a pie, or a fresh batch of bear signs.”
“Cal is welcome at any meal, you know that, Smoke,” Sally said.
“Yeah, I know. I was just making an observation, that’s all.”
“Let him in.”
Smoke opened the door, and the young cowhand stepped inside. A few years earlier, a starving and destitute Cal, who was barely in his teens at the time, made the mistake of trying to rob Sally. It was a huge mistake, because Sally was as good with a gun as any man, and she got the drop on him. Instead of turning him over to the sheriff, however, Sally brought him home and made him, not just another cowhand, but one of the family.
“Smoke, I was wonderin’ if—oh, you’re about to have breakfast, are you? Maybe I should come back later.”
“Don’t be silly, Cal. I’ve already set a plate for you. Have a seat at the table,” Sally said.
“You’ve already set a plate? How did you know I would be here?”
“Like I said, Cal, don’t be silly.”
“Well, thank you, Miss Sally. You didn’t have to do that, but, oh, sausage, eggs, potatoes, and biscuits. It does look good.”
Sally brought the food to the table and they all sat down.
“Now,” Smoke said as he buttered a biscuit. “What is on your mind, Cal?”
“I beg your pardon?” Cal replied.
“When you came in, you said you were wondering about something. What is it you are wondering about?”
“Oh, nothing really,” Cal replied. “I was just wonderin’ if you had heard anything from Pearlie is all.”
“Now, Cal, you know that every time we hear from Pearlie we tell you,” Sally said.
“Yes, ma’am, I know. It’s just that I miss him.”
“We all miss him,” Sally said.
“Do you reckon he’ll be comin’ back?”
“I believe he will.”
“The last we heard of him, he was down New Mexico way, wasn’t he?” Cal asked.
“He was,” Smoke said.
“Cal, did you know that Smoke is planning to get rid of all the longhorns and convert the entire herd to Herefords?” Sally asked.
“Really?” Cal asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh, wow, I think that is a great idea,” Cal said.
“You do?” Sally asked, surprised by Cal’s reaction.
“Yes, ma’am. Me’n Pearlie—uh—that is, Pearlie and me used to talk about it.”
“Pearlie and I,” Sally corrected, giving in to the attitude of the schoolteacher she once was.
“Yes, ma’am, Pearlie and I,” Cal said. “The thing is, there don’t nobody want longhorns no more. I heard they ain’t payin’ near nothin’ for ’em, which you didn’t tell me ’cause it ain’t none of my business, but I figure you didn’t get much for them longhorns we drove into town last week.”
Sally held up her finger and started to speak. Then she just smiled and shook her head. “You are incorrigible.”
“I’m a what?”
“Never mind.”
“You’re right about the price we got for the longhorns,” Smoke said. “We got practically nothing for them.”
“Which is why I think you would be smart to switch over to raisin’ Herefords. Herefords, well, they do real good on grass, and they get bigger than longhorns, and would make more beef, which means you are goin’ to make a lot more money on them. The beef is better tastin’, too. Why, you ’member that, Miss Sally, when we spitted and cooked that steer last fall? It was a Hereford, and ever’body just went on and on ’bout how good it was.”
“Here now, Cal, you are hurting my feelings. All this time, I thought they were just complimenting my cooking,” Sally teased. “But you are telling me that I had nothing to do with it, it was just because the beef was from a Hereford.”
“No, no, I didn’t mean nothin’ like that,” Cal said quickly. “You’re the best cook there is. I just—”
Sally’s laugh cut him off. “I’m teasing you, Cal. But you seem to know a lot about Herefords. I must confess that I’m quite impressed.”
“Yes, ma’am. Like I said, me and—that is, Pearlie and I talked about ’em some when Smoke brung the first ones in. And since that time, I’ve read a lot about ’em,” Cal said.
“I suppose they are the way to go. But I can’t help it, there is just something about longhorns that I like,” Sally said. “To me they are Western icons.” When she saw the blank questioning expression on Cal’s face, she explained. “I think they are the symbol of the West.”
“Yes, ma’am, well, there is that to be said about longhorns. Plus another thing is they are a tough breed and can near’bout raise themselves. But I do believe there will be a time when purt’ near all the ranches will be raisin’ nothin’ but Herefords, and there won’t be no—”
“Won’t be any,” Sally corrected automatically.
“Won’t be any market for longhorns.”
“Sally, why do you waste your time correcting his grammar?” asked Smoke. “You correct one sentence and he murders the next. You are like Don Quixote, dueling with windmills.”
“I can’t help it, it is just the schoolteacher in me. Besides, someone has to duel with windmills. Otherwise, the world would be overrun with them,” Sally said, and she and Smoke laughed.
“Dueling with windmills?” Cal asked, his face mirroring his confusion. “Who would duel with a windmill? That don’t make no sense a’tall.”
“It’s from a story about this fella named Don Quixote who went around dueling with windmills,” Smoke said.
“A Mexican fella, was he?”
“No, it’s—uh—”
Sally laughed. Now, this I want to hear,” she said, “you explaining a novel that is farcical, but also serious and philosophical about the theme of deception.”
Smoke shook his head. “I guess you are right,” he said. “Cal, it’s just an expression, that’s all. It means wasting your time.”
“Oh. Sort of like bailing out water with a sieve,” Cal suggested.
Smoke laughed. “You might say that,” he said.
“Well, then, why didn’t you?”
“I guess I didn’t think of it. Tell me, Cal, with all the reading you have done about Herefords, is it your opinion that it would be worth investing in a champion bull?”
“Do you mean a bull like Prince Henry?” Cal asked.
Smoke nodded. “That’s exactly who I mean. From what I hear, Prince Henry is a true champion.”
“He damn sure is!” Cal said excitedly. Then, with a flushed expression on his face, he looked over toward Sally. “I’m sorry ’bout the language, Miss Sally.”