You ain't been in these parts long ?" His tone made a question of the statement.
"Not right here." Bud had no reason save his temper for not giving more explicit information, but Bart Nelson--as Bud knew him afterwards--continued to study him as if he suspected a blotched past.
"Hunh.

That your horse ?" "I've got a bill of sale for him." "You don't happen to be wanting a job, I s'pose ?" "I wouldn't refuse to take one." And then the twinkle came back to Bud's eyes, because all at once the whole incident struck him as being rather funny.

"I'd want a boss that expected to have his orders carried out, though.

I lack imagination, and I never did try to read a man's mind.
What he says he'd better mean--when he says it to me." Bart Nelson gave a short laugh, turned and sent his riders back to their work with oaths tingling their ears.

Bud judged that cursing was his natural form of speech.
"Go let up that steer, and I'll put you to work," he said to Bud afterwards.