Once I’d had enough sleep to gather back together my wits, I headed into the Grand Hotel to have breakfast with our band. The Denver didn’t offer one, an’ I wasn’t of a mind to go looking for a place that sold meals. Besides, Prof was flush, and he was buyin’.
We didn’t talk all that much about plans for the future that mornin’, as most of the folk were tryin’ to work out how they were goin’ to spend the next few days. The Padre told us all that he was goin’ to look in on how the flock was bein’ tended here, and near-everyone else talked about what errands they were going to care for now that we were here.
My next destination was to the shingle of the Broken Kay here in town. It turned out that the friendly boys there had a passel of good horse-flesh, an’ I was well and truly impressed with thier operation.
After I’d had a word or two with the boys and then the hosses themselves, I settled upon a youngish mare named Bethesda. She was one of four they’d had what were used to beeves, an’ seemed the healthiest of those.
From there I was headed back to the Grand, which had the only publically available stable in town. On my way I ran into the Prof, who seemed perplexed at the idea that I’d gotten a hoss, and he, Bethesda, an’ I went back to the Broken Kay Horse an’ Tack.
The Prof wanted a hoss for hisself and his brother-in-law. Money was no object, he’d said, but the problem I percieved was that he’d need a really placid hoss for Dietrich. The ferriner (thanks to his European habits) often smelled like a schnappes-dipped saddle-tramp what had been dead three days. I tried to get the tinhorn a fair deal, which garnered the hands some amusement. Everyone went away happy, though. They got the price for two eager young mustangs, and we got a yearling ’stang and a tough old beast which seemed oblivious to all but God and oats.