Buckskin Run (Ss) (1981) Read Free Page A

from f urther interference in Em's marital or other affairs. But Josh kept on going.
    Em Shipton had come to Cordova and started her rooming and boarding house while looking for a new husband.
    Her first choice, old Henry Childs himself, was a con fi rmed bachelor who came to eat once at her table. Wise r than most, he never came again.
    She was fifteen years older and twenty pounds heavier ' t han slim, handsome Rod Morgan, but he was her second: c hoice.
    -What you need, she told him, is a good wife!"
    Unaware of the direction of the conversation, Rod agreed ' t hat he did.
    "Also," she said, "you must move away from that awfu l canyon. It's haunted!"
    Rod laughed. Sure, and I ' ve seen no ghost, maam , no t a one. Never seen a prettier valley, either. No, I' m staying."
    Em Shipton coupled her ignorance with assurance.
    Women were scarce in the West, and she had come t o consider herself quite a catch. She had yet to learn tha t women were not that scarce.
    "Well," she said definitely, "you can't expect me to g o live in no valley like that."
    Rod stared, mouth open in astonishment. "Who said anything --" He swallowed, trying to keep a straight fac e but failing. He stifled the laugh, hut not the smile. I m sorry. I like living there, and, as for a wife, I've plans o f my own."
    Em might have forgiven the plans, but she could neve r forgive that single, startled instant when Rod realized tha t Em Shipton actually had plans for him herself, or the wa y he smiled at the idea.
    That was only the beginning of the trouble. Rod Morga n had walked along to the Gem Saloon, had a drink, an d been offered a job by Jake Sarran, Henry Childs' foreman.
    He refused it.
    Better take it, Morgan, Sarran advised, "if you plan t o stay in this country. We don't like loose, unattached rider s drifting around."
    "I'm not drifting around. I own my own place on Buckski n Run."
    "I know," Sarran admitted, "but nobody stays ther e long. Why not take a good job when you can get it?"
    "Because I simply don't want a job. I'll be staying a t Buckskin Run." As he turned away a thought struck him.
    "And you can tell whoever it is who wants me out of ther e that I've come to stay."
    Jake Sarran put his glass down hard, but whatever h e intended to say went unspoken. Rod left the saloon, hi s brow furrowed with thought and some worry. On this firs t visit to town he had come to realize that his presence a t Buckskin Run was disturbing to someone.
    For a week he kept busy on the ranch, then he rod e south, hired a couple of hands, and drove in three hundred head of whiteface cattle. With grass and water the y would not stray, and there was no better grass and wate r than that in Buckskin Run. He let the hands go.
    But the thought worried him. W hy, with all that goo d pasture and water, had Buckskin Run not been settled'
    When next he rode into Cordova he found people avoiding him. Yet he was undisturbed. Many communities wer e clannish and shy about accepting strangers. Once they go t acquainted it would be different. Yet he had violated on e of their taboos.
    It was not until he started to mount his horse that he discovered his troubles were not to stop with being ignored.
    A sack of flour tied behind his saddle had been cut open , and most of the flour had spilled on the ground.
    Angered, he turned to face the grins of the men seate d along the walk. One of them, Bob Carr, a long, rang y rider from Henry Childs's Block C, had a smudge of whit e near his shirt pocket, and another smudge near his right - hand pants pocket, the sort of smear that might have com e from a man's kni f e if he had cut a flour-sack open, the n shoved the knife back in his pocket.
    Rod had stepped u ? on the walk. "How'd you get tha t white smudge on your pocket?"
    The rider looked quickly down, then, his face flushing , he looked up. "How do you thinks" he said.
    Rod hit him. He threw his fist from where it was, at hi s belt, threw it short and hard into the long rider's sola r