The wooden latch of the bunk house raised at about ten o'clock in the morning when lean blong man came in. He was dressed in blue jeans and he carried a big push-broom in his left hand. Behind him came Louis and Harry.
“The boss was expectin’ you last night,” the man said with a distinct irish accent. He pointed with his right arm, towards two bunks near the stove,“You can have them two beds there,”
Louis moved towards his bunk and unrolled his bindle and put things on the shelf, his razor and bar of soap, his comb and bottle of pills, his liniment and leather wristband. Then he made his bed up neatly with blankets.
The man said, “I guess the boss’ll be out here in a minute. He was sure burned when you
wasn’t here this morning. Come right in when we was eatin’ breakfast and says, ‘Where the hell’s them new men?’ An’ he give the stable boy hell, too.”
Louis patted a wrinkle out of his bed, and sat down. “Give the stable boy hell?” he asked.
“Sure. Ya see the stable boy's a total recluse, doesn't talk to anyone.”
“Recluse, huh?”
“Yeah. Nice fella though. Got a crooked back where a horse kicked him. The boss gives him hell when he’s mad. But the stable boy don’t give a damn about that.”
Harry was just finishing making his bed. The wooden latch raised again and the door opened. A man stood in the open doorway. He wore blue jean trousers, a flannel shirt, a black, unbuttoned vest and a black coat. His thumbs were stuck in his belt, on each side of a square steel buckle. On his head was a soiled brown Stetson hat, and he wore high-heeled boots and spurs to
prove he was not a laboring man.
The man who had been speaking to Louis looked quickly at him, and then shuffled to the door. “Them guys just come,” he said, and shuffled past the boss and out the door.
The boss stepped into the room. “You got your work slips?” Louis reached into his pocket and produced the slips and handed them to the boss.
The boss squinted his eyes and pulled his time book out of his pocket and opened it where a pencil was stuck between the leaves. Louis slooked meaningfully at Harry, who nodded to show that he understood. The boss licked his pencil. “What’s your name?”
“Louis Tomlinson.”
“And what’s yours?” The boss asked looking at Harry.
“His name’s Harry Styles.”
The names were entered in the book. “Le’s see, this is the twentieth, noon the
twentieth.” He closed the book. “Where you boys been working?”
“Town up north,” said Louis.
“You, too?” he said to Harry.
“Yeah, him too,” said Louis.
The boss pointed a playful finger at Harry. “He ain’t much of a talker, is he?”
“No, he ain’t, but he’s sure a hell of a good worker. Strong as a bull.” Said Louis proudly.
Harry smiled to himself. “Strong as a bull,” he repeated.
Louis scowled at him, and Harry dropped his head in shame at having forgotten.
The boss said suddenly, “Listen, Styles!” Harry raised his head. “What can you do?”
In a panic, Harry looked at Louis for help. “He can do anything you tell him,” Louis said. “He can do anything. Just give him a try.”
