Worn wheels rolled over the rocky ground.
Rowdy and Wishbone bounced in the creaking seat as the chuck wagon made its slow way back toward the herd.
Rowdy grinned.
"Yeah, you can get kinda tired of lookin' at the wrong end of a steer after a while, I guess."
"You guess. Maybe you're happy to push them mosshorns up the Chisholm day after day but I for one could use some more trips into town," said Wishbone.
"Oh, I dunno, Wish. It's good, green country out this way," said Rowdy, motioning at the cloud-studded sky and the rolling hills. "Long as there ain't too many steers blockin' the view, that is," he added hastily as Wishbone gave him a look.
Wishbone huffed, "Well, I sure don't understand how Mr. Favor can stand to send other people in for supplies all the time. He don't ever get a chance to see all those fine folks and pretty girls."
The smile vanished from Rowdy's face and he looked out toward the hills.
He mumbled something unintelligible.
"Speak up!" snarled Wishbone.
Rowdy took off his battered hat and ran his fingers through his hair.
A little too loudly, he spoke.
"You think Mr. Favor would ever think about me…that way? You know, like…Well, like all them girls."
Wishbone pulled back hard on the reins and put his foot on the brake. The wagon slid to an abrupt stop.
He transferred the reins to one hand and pushed up the brim of his hat with the other, twisting toward the younger man.
One of the horses pawed at the dirt and tossed its head.
Rowdy said nothing and kept staring out at the horizon, eyes shining.
The clouds glided slowly overhead.
Finally, Wishbone gently asked, "You been feeling that for a long time, ain't you?"
Rowdy inhaled deeply, and started to say something but the words stuck in his throat. He covered his face with his hands, took a deep shuddering breath and hurriedly wiped his eyes, then jammed his hat back on his head.
In a choked voice, he said, "Let's just drive."
Wishbone pursed his lips, then shook the reins and clicked his tongue.
The wagon rolled on.