Morgan'"
Her voice was low, but Jed Blue overheard. Is tha t your man ?" he asked.
She nodded, unable to speak. It was true then, sh e thought. He w as a killer! He had just shot that man.
One of the horsemen caught the riderless horse and tw o of the others dismounted to load the body across th e saddle. The other man sat very still, holding his hand o n the pommel of his saddle.
As the other riders remounted he said, "Well, this i s one you won't bury in Buckskin Run!"
"Get going ! " Morgan said. "And kee p a civil tongue i n y o ur head, Jeff I've no use for you or any of your rustling , dry-gulching crowd."
Lorna Day drew back into the stage, her hands to he r face. Horror filled her being. That limp, still body! Ro d Morgan had killed him!
"Well!" Em Shipton said triumphantly. "What did w e tell you'?"
"It's too bad you had to see this," Brewer said. "I' m sorry, ma'am."
"That's a right handy young feller!" Blue said admiringly. "Looks to me like you picked you a good one, ma'am.
Stood off the five of them, he did, and I never seen i t done better. Any one of them would have killed him ha d they the chance, but he didn't even disarm them. And they wanted no part of him!"
The stage started to roll.
"Hey'" Slue caught at Lorna's arm. "Ain't you eve n goin' to call to him? Ain't you goin' to let him know you'r e '; here?"
"No! Don't tell him! Please, don't!"
Blue leaned back, shaking his head admiringly. Handy , right handy! That gent who was down in the road wa s drilled plumb center!"
Lorna did not hear him. Rod! Her Rod! A killer!
As the stage swung back into the road and pulled away , Rod Morgan stooped and picked u ? the dead man's six - shooter. No use wasting a good gun, and if things went o n as they had begun he would have need of it.
He walked back to where his gray mustang was tethered, and swung into the saddle. A brief glance aroun d and he started back u ? the canyon. There was so much t o do, and so little time .
Perhaps he had been wrong to oppose the ingraine d superstition and suspicion of the Cordova country, bu t working as a cowhand would never allow him to sav e enough to support a wife or build a home. Buckskin Run , from the moment he had first glimpsed it, had seemed th e epitome of all he had dreamed.
The stream plunged happily over the stones, falling in a series of miniature cascades and rapids into a wide basin surrounded by towering cliffs. It flowed out of that basi n and through a wide meadow, several hundred acres o f good grassland. High cliffs bordered the area on all sides , and there were clumps of aspen and spruce.
Below the first meadow lay a long valley also bounde d by sheer cliffs, a valley at least a half-mile wide tha t narrowed suddenly into a bottleneck that spilled the stream ! i nto another series of small rapids before it swung into the ~ t imbered land bordering the desert.
When Rod Morgan had found Buckskin Run there had j been no tracks of either cattle or horses. Without asking:: q uestions, he chose a cabin site near the entrance and ! w ent to work. Before he rode out to Cordova on his first,"' t ri ? to town his cabin was built, his corrals ready.
In Cordova he ran into trouble with Em Shipton.
Em's entire life was ruled by prejudice and superstition.,: She had come to Cordova from the hills of West Virginia by way of Council Bluffs and Santa Fe. In the Iowa town ' s he married Josh Shipton, a teamster freighting over the Sante Fe Trail. She had already been a widow, her firs t husband dropping from sight after a blast of gun-fire wit h his brother-in-law.
Josh Shipton was more enduring, and also somewhat faster with a gun, than Em's previous spouse. He stood her nagging and suspicion for three months, stood the ',' b orrowing and drunkenness of her brother for a few days l onger. The two di ff iculties came to a head simultaneously. Josh packed u p and left Em and, in a final dispute with her quar relsome, pistol-ready brother, el iminated him
Her voice was low, but Jed Blue overheard. Is tha t your man ?" he asked.
She nodded, unable to speak. It was true then, sh e thought. He w as a killer! He had just shot that man.
One of the horsemen caught the riderless horse and tw o of the others dismounted to load the body across th e saddle. The other man sat very still, holding his hand o n the pommel of his saddle.
As the other riders remounted he said, "Well, this i s one you won't bury in Buckskin Run!"
"Get going ! " Morgan said. "And kee p a civil tongue i n y o ur head, Jeff I've no use for you or any of your rustling , dry-gulching crowd."
Lorna Day drew back into the stage, her hands to he r face. Horror filled her being. That limp, still body! Ro d Morgan had killed him!
"Well!" Em Shipton said triumphantly. "What did w e tell you'?"
"It's too bad you had to see this," Brewer said. "I' m sorry, ma'am."
"That's a right handy young feller!" Blue said admiringly. "Looks to me like you picked you a good one, ma'am.
Stood off the five of them, he did, and I never seen i t done better. Any one of them would have killed him ha d they the chance, but he didn't even disarm them. And they wanted no part of him!"
The stage started to roll.
"Hey'" Slue caught at Lorna's arm. "Ain't you eve n goin' to call to him? Ain't you goin' to let him know you'r e '; here?"
"No! Don't tell him! Please, don't!"
Blue leaned back, shaking his head admiringly. Handy , right handy! That gent who was down in the road wa s drilled plumb center!"
Lorna did not hear him. Rod! Her Rod! A killer!
As the stage swung back into the road and pulled away , Rod Morgan stooped and picked u ? the dead man's six - shooter. No use wasting a good gun, and if things went o n as they had begun he would have need of it.
He walked back to where his gray mustang was tethered, and swung into the saddle. A brief glance aroun d and he started back u ? the canyon. There was so much t o do, and so little time .
Perhaps he had been wrong to oppose the ingraine d superstition and suspicion of the Cordova country, bu t working as a cowhand would never allow him to sav e enough to support a wife or build a home. Buckskin Run , from the moment he had first glimpsed it, had seemed th e epitome of all he had dreamed.
The stream plunged happily over the stones, falling in a series of miniature cascades and rapids into a wide basin surrounded by towering cliffs. It flowed out of that basi n and through a wide meadow, several hundred acres o f good grassland. High cliffs bordered the area on all sides , and there were clumps of aspen and spruce.
Below the first meadow lay a long valley also bounde d by sheer cliffs, a valley at least a half-mile wide tha t narrowed suddenly into a bottleneck that spilled the stream ! i nto another series of small rapids before it swung into the ~ t imbered land bordering the desert.
When Rod Morgan had found Buckskin Run there had j been no tracks of either cattle or horses. Without asking:: q uestions, he chose a cabin site near the entrance and ! w ent to work. Before he rode out to Cordova on his first,"' t ri ? to town his cabin was built, his corrals ready.
In Cordova he ran into trouble with Em Shipton.
Em's entire life was ruled by prejudice and superstition.,: She had come to Cordova from the hills of West Virginia by way of Council Bluffs and Santa Fe. In the Iowa town ' s he married Josh Shipton, a teamster freighting over the Sante Fe Trail. She had already been a widow, her firs t husband dropping from sight after a blast of gun-fire wit h his brother-in-law.
Josh Shipton was more enduring, and also somewhat faster with a gun, than Em's previous spouse. He stood her nagging and suspicion for three months, stood the ',' b orrowing and drunkenness of her brother for a few days l onger. The two di ff iculties came to a head simultaneously. Josh packed u p and left Em and, in a final dispute with her quar relsome, pistol-ready brother, el iminated him
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