Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 5, 2025
"Bostil, if Cordts loves the King thet well, he's in fer heartbreak," said Creech, with a ring in his voice. Down crashed Bostil's heavy boots and fire flamed in his gaze. The other men laughed, and Brackton interposed: "Hold on, you boy riders!" he yelled. "We ain't a-goin' to have any arguments like thet.... Now, Bostil, it's settled, then? You'll let Cordts come?"
Slone sustained the queerest shock of his life when he met the gaze of those contrasting eyes. Yet he did not believe that his strange feeling came from sight of different-colored eyes. There was an instinct or portent in that meeting. He purchased a bill of goods from Brackton, and, with Creech helping, carried it up to the cabin under the bluff.
Most of Bostil's gray hairs might have been traced to his years of worry about horses. The day he received word from the Indians he sent for Brackton, Williams, Muncie, and Creech to come to his house that night. These men, with Bostil, had for years formed in a way a club, which gave the Ford distinction.
"She sure didn't say," replied Brackton. "Holley an' Van an' some more of the boys was here. They joked her a little. You oughter seen the look Lucy give them. But fer once she seemed mum. She jest walked away mysterious like." "Lucy's got a pony off some Indian, I reckon," returned Bostil, and he laughed. "Then thet makes ten hosses entered so far?" "Right. An' there's sure to be one more.
Brackton set down the lantern and, pushing Slone outside, said: "Jest a minnit, son," and then he closed the door. "Joel's been on my hands since the flood cut him off from home," said Brackton. "An' he's been some trial. But nobody else would have done nothin' for him, so I had to. I reckon I felt sorry for him. He cried like a baby thet had lost its mother.
Horse-thieves sometimes boldly rode in, and sometimes were able to sell or trade. In the matter of horse-dealing Bostil's Ford was as bold as the thieves. Old Brackton, a man of varied Western experience, kept the one store, which was tavern, trading-post, freighter's headquarters, blacksmith's shop, and any thing else needful.
Bostil followed Brackton, and Slone came along. The old man opened a door into a small room, half full of stores and track. The lantern only dimly lighted the place. "Look thar!" And Brackton flashed the light upon a man lying prostrate. Bostil recognized the pale face of Joel Creech. "Brack! ... What's this? Is he dead?" Bostil sustained a strange, incomprehensible shock.
"Wal, d n my old head!" exclaimed Brackton. "I'm gittin' old. Come on in. All of you! We're glad to see Creech home." The riders filed in after Brackton and the Creeches. Holley stayed close beside Slone, both of them in the background. "I heerd the flood comin' thet night," said Creech to his silent and tense-faced listeners. "I heerd it miles up the canyon.
Sight of a dead man had never before shocked him. "Nope, he ain't dead, which if he was might be good for this community," replied Brackton. "He's only fallen in a fit. Fust off I reckoned he was drunk. But it ain't thet." "Wal, what do you want to show him to me for?" demanded Bostil, gruffly. "I reckoned you oughter see him." "An' why, Brackton?"
Some deviltry was afoot! He had an angry thought that these riders could not have minds of their own. Just inside the door Slone encountered Wetherby, the young rancher from Durango. Slone spoke, but Wetherby only replied with an insolent stare. Slone did not glance at the man to whom Wetherby was talking. Only a few people were inside the store, and Brackton was waiting upon them.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking