Billy stopped in the shade of a willow along the sparsely timbered draw and reached in his shirt for tobacco. Old Thad rode up beside him. Together they sat looking back at the herd winding like some great snake along the shallow, valley-like depression in the Kansas plain. Behind them—many miles behind—lay the Arkansas. Up ahead—not far ahead—lay Abilene.
“Can’t be much farther now, Billy,” Old Thad said, removing his hat and wiping the sweat from the band.
“It’s not, Thad,” Billy said quietly, drawing on his cigarette.
“When you figure we’ll be there?”
Billy thought for a minute. “About noon tomorrow. Somewhere along there.”
Old Thad smiled. Then he noted the serious expression on the face of his young trail boss and his own face grew solemn. “Billy,” he began hesitantly, “I ain’t o
