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“Back at the oak the men lounged in the shade and finished up their meal. Watching Clayt down at the creek, Nestor threw out a quiet question for anyone who would listen. “How come Clayt don’t wear no spurs?” “Don’t need ’em,” Lou said. “You seen him ride. He can purty much control a horse with just his knees and neck-reinin’.” Nestor lay back and propped on both elbows. Lifting a leg, he turned one boot in profile and spun the rowel with the toe of his other boot. “Hell, I like the way it sounds when I walk.” Lou stood and brushed off his trousers. “He don’t need that neither.” — Mark Warren
Back at the oak the men lounged in the shade and finished up their meal. Watching Clayt down at the creek, Nestor threw out a quiet question for anyone who would listen.
“How come Clayt don’t wear no spurs?”
“Don’t need ’em,” Lou said. “You seen him ride. He can purty much control a horse with just his knees and neck-reinin’.”
Nestor lay back and propped on both elbows. Lifting a leg, he turned one boot in profile and spun the rowel with the toe of his other boot.
“Hell, I like the way it sounds when I walk.”
Lou stood and brushed off his trousers. “He don’t need that neither.