"But this matters--what shall I do with you ?" "Are--you--a rider ?" she whispered.
"Not now.

I was once.

I drove the Withersteen herds.

But I lost my place--lost all I owned--and now I'm--I'm a sort of outcast.

My name's Bern Venters." "You won't--take me--to Cottonwoods--or Glaze?
I'd be--hanged." "No, indeed.