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"
I
like
the
looks
of
that
one
with
the
liver
saddle
.
"
"
Sure
,
he
’
s
good
.
But
he
can
’
t
hold
up
to
that
sweet
little
bitch
.
Name
’
s
Mary
,
gentle
as
Jesus
in
the
pen
,
but
she
’
s
jumping
hell
in
the
field
.
Never
seen
a
dog
could
cover
the
ground
the
way
she
can
.
"
Mac
gave
the
noses
a
rub
.
"
I
see
they
got
holes
into
the
barn
.
You
let
’
em
run
in
the
barn
?
"
"
No
,
their
beds
are
tight
against
the
wall
.
Warmer
in
there
.
"
"
If
the
bitch
ever
whelps
,
I
’
d
like
to
speak
a
pup
.
"
The
old
man
snorted
.
"
She
’
d
have
to
whelp
ever
’
day
in
the
year
to
supply
the
people
that
wants
her
pups
.
"
Mac
turned
slowly
from
the
pen
and
looked
into
the
brown
eyes
.
"
My
name
’
s
McLeod
,
"
he
said
,
and
held
out
his
hand
.
"
Anderson
’
s
mine
.
What
you
want
?
"
"
I
want
to
talk
straight
to
you
.
"
The
sun
was
gone
now
,
and
the
chickens
had
disappeared
from
the
yard
.
The
evening
chill
settled
down
among
the
trees
.
"
Selling
something
,
Mr
.
McLeod
?
I
don
’
t
want
none
.
"
