Ordeal of the Mountain Man Read Free Page B

smack with each stroke.
    When they all joined in a yelping chorus, she reached out and took the ear of the smallest in a firm grip and gave it a hard twist. Squealing, Danny Collins did a fancy dance step all the way to the door. Driving the others before her with the switch, Virginia hustled all three out onto the low stoop and hurried them down the steps. From the safety of the school yard, Brandon Kelso turned back to throw a final, ominous taunt.
    â€œYou know my father is on the school board. If you want to keep your job, you’d better watch what you do to me an’ my friends.”
    Fists on hips, she called after them. “I’ll risk that. Now, git. And don’t come back.”
    That task completed, she returned to the schoolroom. Her expression calmed from its earlier outrage, she spoke in a soothing, quiet voice. “You may return to your desk, Jimmy. You will read next.”
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    Riding his handsome, chestnut roan, Thoroughbred stallion down the center of the main street of Muddy Gap, Reno Jim Yurian sat tall in the saddle. He looked neither left nor right. With the schooled knees of a trained equestrian, he controlled his mount past the yapping of dogs, the shrill yells of children racing barefoot through the street and the bustle and whirl of wagons, horsemen and pedestrians. A light hand on the reins, he guided Walker’s Kentucky Pride toward the tie rail in front of the Territorial Bank of Muddy Gap.
    There the well-mannered horse stopped primly on a dime and waited without even an ear twitch while Jim Yurian dismounted. He looped the reins over the crossbar and removed his black leather gloves. Reno Jim used them to flick the spots of trail dust from his trouser legs and the sleeves of his immaculate swallowtail morning coat, then stepped regally up onto the boardwalk. Without a glance in the direction of the bank lobby, he walked to an extension of the plank sidewalk that ran along one side of the building into an alley.
    At its end, he began to ascend a flight of stairs that ended on a small platform outside a door that gave access to the second floor. Halfway down the well-scrubbed and highly polished hall, he paused a moment before the frosted glass pane that occupied the upper half of a closed door. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and turned the knob.
    He shouldered past the gilt-edged letters that spelled out in bold face:
    BOYNE KELSO
GRAIN AND LIVESTOCK BROKER
    He entered and flashed a winning smile at a willowy man in his early twenties, seated at the desk in the outer office.
    â€œGood morning, Mr. Masters.”
    â€œGood morning, Mr. Yurian. Mr. Kelso is expecting you. Go right in.”
    â€œThank you.”
    Robbie Masters looked after the visitor and sighed deeply. Oh, God, he’s soooo handsome, he thought. Then he quickly busied himself with the stack of papers on his desk. Thus occupied, he did not see the sudden, hard expression of contempt on the face of Jim Yurian. Reno Jim opened the dividing panel and stepped into the sanctum of Boyne Kelso.
    â€œI have good news, Boyne.” When he closed the door securely behind him, he went on. “That herd of remounts on their way to Fort Custer will soon be ours.”
    Kelso revealed his surprise. “They really exist, then?”
    â€œYes. Some of my men watched them cross over from Colorado. Just short of three weeks, they should be on the Crow Reservation. That is, they would be, if we didn’t have other plans for them.”
    Beaming, Kelso rubbed pudgy hands together. “Excellent, excellent. This calls for a mild celebration. I recommend the saloon-bar in the Wilber House Hotel. They pour a fine bourbon.”
    Reno Jim smiled back. “That sounds fine to me.”
    Together, they left the office and strode out onto the main boardwalk. They talked of inconsequentials as they strolled toward the hotel. Every man who passed respectfully touched the brim of his hat in salute to