Riding for the Brand (Ss) (1986) Read Free

Seever glanced at the letter and then hurled it into the dust. "Let's get out of here!"
    He started for his horse.
    Jed Asbury watched them go, puzzling over that odd reaction of Walt's. Until Seever saw that letter he had been positive Jed was not Michael Latch. Now he was no longer sure. But what could have made him so positive in the beginning?
    What could he know?
    The girl was whispering something to Costa.
    Jed turned, smiling at her. "I don't believe Walt was too happy at my being here"... He said.
    "No"... Costa's expression was unrevealing, "he isn't. He expected to have this ranch for himself."
    Costa turned toward the girl. "Senor Latch? I would introduce to you Sefiorita Carol James, a ward of Senor Baca's and his good friend."
    Jed acknowledged the introduction.
    "You must bring me up to date. I want to know all you can tell me about Walt Seever."
    Costa exchanged a glance with Carol. "Of course, Senor. Walt Seever is a malo hombre, Senor. He has killed several men, he is most violent.
    The men with him were Harry Strykes and Gin Feeley. They are gunmen and believed to be thieves."
    Jed Asbury listened attentively, yet wondered about Carol's reaction. Did she suspect he was not Michael Latch? Did she know he was not Latch? If so, why didn't she say something?
    He was surprised they had accepted him so readily for even after he had decided to take the dead man's place he had not been sure he could go through with it. He had a feeling of guilt and some shame, yet the real Michael Latch was dead, and the only man he was depriving seemed to be a thoroughly bad one whose first action would have been to fire the ranch's foreman, a man whose home had always been this hacienda.
    He had made a wild ride over rough country to get here in time, but over all that distance he had debated with himself about the rights and the wrongs of his action.
    He was nobody, a drifter, worker at whatever came to hand, an adventurer, if you will, but not unlike hundreds of others who came and went across the West and more often than not left their bones in the wilderness, their flesh to feed the ancient soil.
    He had not known Michael Latch, or what kind of man he had been, but he suspected he had been a good man and a trusted one. Why could he not save the ranch from Walt Seever, find a home for himself at last, and be the kind of man Michael Latch would have been?
    All through that wild ride west he had struggled with his conscience, trying to convince himself that what he did was the right thing. He could do Latch no harm, and Costa and Carol seemed pleased to have him here, now that he had arrived. The expression on Seever's face had been worth the ride, if nothing more.
    There was something else that disturbed him.
    That was Walt Seever's odd reaction when he had said he was Michael Latch.
    "You say"... Jed turned to Carol, "that Seever was sure he would inherit?"
    She nodded. "Yes, though until about three months ago he was hating George Baca for leaving the ranch to you. Then suddenly he changed his mind and seemed sure he would inherit, that you would never come to claim your inheritance."
    It had been about three months ago that Jed Asbury had come upon the lone wagon and the murdered people, a murder he had laid to Indians.
    But leaving the corpses with their clothing and the wagon unlooted did not seem like any raiding parties of which he had known.
    Three people murdered could Seever have known of that? Was that why he had suddenly been sure he would inherit?
    The idea took root. Seever must have known of the killings. If that was so, then the three had not been killed by Indians and a lot remained to be explained. How did the wagon happen to be alone, so far from anywhere? And what had become of the girl, Arden?
    If Indians had not made the attack and carried Arden off, then somebody else had captured her, and wherever she was she would know he was not the real Michael Latch. She would know Jed Asbury, for an impostor, but she