Billy looped the latigo through and pulled it tight. Then he heard Old Thad’s voice boom out, “Line them horses up there even, Goddammit! If them sojer boys can do it there ain’t no reason...”
Billy gave the latigo one last tug and turned to grin at what he saw. A reluctant line of cowhands stood in what might have been Thad Harper’s impression of a company front. The riders, of varying heights and thickness—as were their mounts—presented anything but the military appearance he knew Thad was after. Bow-legged, some in batwing chaps, some in patched denims and assorted sizes and colors of hats, clinging tightly and mistrustingly to the reins of the walleyed ponies behind them, the riders watched Thad with something akin to embarrassment.
“Now—prepare to mount!”
One rider put his toe in t
