Scotsman Wore Spurs Read Online Free

companion. “Want to sell that fine horse of yours? That fellow there, with the pinto, may be interested.”
    Guffaws broke out again, and the boy’s eyes came back to Drew, resting there for a moment.
    â€œLookin’ for a job,” he said, ignoring the jibe. “Heard they might be hirin’ here.”
    â€œPint-size cowboys?” Damien said. “You heard wrong. We’re full hired. More than full hired,” he added, tossing a disagreeable look at Drew.
    â€œRead about the drive in the newspaper,” the boy said. “It said they be needing help. I want to see the foreman.”
    Drew admired the boy’s persistence. But the drive was full hired, even at the miserly wage of fifty dollars and keep. A number of much more promising cowboys had been turned down. It seemed every cowboy in the West wanted to ride with Kirby Kingsley on what was being called a historic drive.
    â€œI’ll take you,” Drew said. “Follow me.” Without waiting to hear what the other hands would make of his conspicuous disregard of Damien’s words, he headed for the corral.
    Leading the pinto by the reins, Drew limped toward the fenced enclosure where Kirby was making a final selection for the remuda, which would total one hundred and eighty horses at ten per man, plus sixteen mules for the two wagons.
    â€œMr. Kingsley?” He had stopped calling Kingsley by his first name around the other men, having no wish to further aggravate their resentment toward him. He was an employee of the Circle K, nothing more.
    Kirby turned around, saw him, noted his limp—and grimaced in the way Drew had come to recognize as a smile.
    â€œTold you about those cutting horses,” Kingsley said.
    â€œSo you did,” Drew replied wryly. “I won’t make the mistake of underestimating them again.”
    â€œGood. Nothing broken, I take it.”
    â€œOnly my pride.”
    Kirby’s lips twitched slightly, then his gaze went over to the young rider beside Drew. “That a horse, boy?”
    The lad’s chin raised defiantly. “It ain’t his fault no one ever took care of him. He has heart.”
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    â€œGabe. Gabe Lewis.”
    â€œAnd your business?”
    â€œI heard you was hiring.”
    â€œMen,” Kirby said. “Not boys.”
    â€œI’m old enough.”
    â€œWhat? Fourteen? Fifteen?”
    â€œSixteen,” the boy said, “and I’ve been making my own way these past three years.”
    â€œYou ever been on a drive?”
    Gabe Lewis hesitated, and Drew could almost see the wheels turning inside his unkempt head. He wanted to lie. He would have lied if he hadn’t thought he might be caught in it.
    â€œNo, but I’m a real fast learner,” he answered, thrusting upward another notch.
    â€œWe don’t need any more hands,” Kirby said, turning away.
    The quick dismissal brought a flush to the boy’s face. “Mister Kingsley?”
    Kingsley swung back around.
    The boy’s voice had lost its belligerence when the lad spoke. “I’ll do anything, Mr. Kingsley. Maybe I’m not so big, but I’m a real hard worker.”
    Kirby shook his head.
    â€œI need the job real bad,” the boy said in one last desperate plea.
    Drew watched as Kirby studied the boy. It shocked him that Kirby was actually considering hiring the lad.
    â€œBy the looks of that horse, I’d agree,” Drew said helpfully, figuring Kirby needed only the slightest push.
    Gabe Lewis scowled at him for a second. Baffled, Drew wondered why his help wasn’t welcome.
    Kirby finally spoke. “Pepper, our cook, was complaining yesterday about his rheumatism. Maybe we could use someone to help him out. You up to being a louse, boy?”
    â€œA louse?” the boy repeated.
    â€œA cook’s helper,” Kirby explained. “A swamper. Cleans up dishes, hunts cow chips,