Marry Me Read Free Page B

He’s the one. Call him Runt the same way folks like to call me that no-account Beatty boy. You get a name put to you around these parts and it pretty much sticks like pine sap.”
    “Things aren’t so different where I come from.”
    Will thought he detected an undercurrent in the doctor’s tone, not bitterness precisely, but something akin to resignation. “Reckon it’s a universal condition, Doc, unless you got something in your little black bag for it.”
    “No.” Cole shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
    “Well, then, back to Runt. You can guess how he got his name.”
    “Smallest of the litter?”
    “That’s right, though there aren’t but the three boys. Like I said, the older ones have moved on. Last I heard, Rusty–he’d be the oldest, about thirty-five or so, I’d guess–”
    Cole interrupted. “Redhead?”
    “What? Oh, his nickname, you mean. No, he was born Russell Abbot and has hair as black as a sinner’s heart. He was called that on account of a crick in his knee that sounded like a hinge needin’ some grease. Like I was saying, last I heard he found religion and two wives when a group of pilgrims came through here a while back. Settled himself in Utah.”
    “Mormons?”
    “Seems like. If Runt’s in a favorable mood, I might ask after Rusty.”
    The trail widened as they made a gradual descent. They left the relative protection of the trees for a gently sloping grassland. A scattering of black-faced sheep on the hillside suddenly huddled together and then moved as swiftly as a nimbus cloud toward a rough-hewn cabin and outbuildings set in the bed of the valley. Chickens ran in circles in the yard. A cow lowed mournfully.
    Cole had come upon this scene before but not from this vantage point or at so close a distance. The shot that drove him away with his tail between his legs–if not his horse–
    had come when he was still on the periphery of the clearing, just barely revealed amidst a phalanx of aspens. He raised the brim of his hat a fraction and squinted against the sunlight glancing off the stream that ran through the valley.
    “Where is he?” asked Cole. “I don’t see anyone.”
    “Well, he sure as hell isn’t waiting for us on that sad excuse of a porch. C’mon, we need to keep going.”
    “What about the other brother? You said he’s not around either.”
    “That’s right. Randy left about the same time Rusty did. Now, he had a way with the ladies. Always did, though I think they called him Randy ‘cause his Christian name was Randall. Still, I remember people speculatin’ on whether he just grew into his name, like the egg maybe came before the chicken.”
    Cole had been to Longabach’s restaurant with his sister several times since their arrival. Estella Longabach’s meaty stew was served with a side of speculation, giving her customers a double order of something to chew on. Cole could easily imagine the chicken and egg debate occupying the diners for an evening.
    “Randy seemed the kind that would embrace his brother’s new religion,” Will said, “but he stayed a couple of months after that and took up with a half-breed Cherokee girl. Bought her from the trappers she was traveling with and moved on up to Leadville. Could be they have children now.”
    “So Runt cares for the place.”
    “His pa makes sure he does. He’ll be the one in the house.”
    Cole tried to recall his conversation with the sheriff.
    “Judah?”
    “That’s right. But call him Mr. Abbot until he tells you otherwise. He’s particular about that.” “Of course.”
    “You should know that Runt’s ornery, and that he comes by it because he can’t help himself. Judah’s a hotheaded cuss and Rusty and Randy were just plain bad-tempered when I knew them. Both of them bullies, and with me being a few years younger, I felt the meanness in them more than once. That wasn’t anything compared to how they carried on after Runt. My ma says that Runt had to come into this world with