A Taste of Heaven by Alexis Harrington Read Free Book Online Page B

ain't usually much for
socializin', Mrs. Ross,” one of the men added.
    She noted that only Joe and Rory referred to
their boss by his first name.
    “I saw him out in the barn, lookin' after a
new filly that come while he was gone,” Charlie put in. “Most
likely, he's still out there. Or maybe in his office.” He mopped up
gravy with a tender biscuit half and swallowed it almost as quickly
as Rory had.
    She stood back in amazement, gripping the
coffeepot. It couldn't be good for a body's digestion to gobble
food that fast. But they were all doing it. And it seemed that no
sooner had the men sat down than Joe Channing was in the doorway,
hurrying them out again.
    “Let's go, boys. We got work to do around
here. That trail drive is comin' soon,” Joe said in his low voice.
He turned to his top hand. “Charlie, you and Kansas Bob are taking
the Cooper boys to the north range to finish cutting out our brand,
right?” Kansas Bob Wegner was a slim, rosy-faced young man with
wheat-colored hair and, as with most of the others, Libby guessed
him to be around twenty. The Cooper brothers had already eaten
during the first shift, and were outside saddling their horses.
    Charlie stood and drank the rest of his
coffee in one swallow, looking morose. “I wish I could send someone
in my place, and that's the truth of it. I swear I never seen so
many dead cattle in my life as I did on the southern roundups.”
    “On your way back, you boys might as well
bring in the last of those mustangs we turned loose last fall.
Rory, you know what you're doing today,” the foreman continued.
    With a long-suffering sigh, the youth nodded
and got to his feet. “Yeah, I know. How long am I gonna have to
chase down bogged strays, Joe? That's a greenhorn's job. I'd rather
go north with Charlie and Kansas Bob.”
    “No, you wouldn't, Sass. This ain't a basket
social we're goin' on,” Charlie advised him. “Those-rotting
carcasses stink to heaven on high, and on that last roundup we only
found six head of our own. The rest was dead or belonged to the
other outfits. And they didn't find much neither. Anyways, most of
the cows are so puny, they can't make the walk back. It's a good
thing we rounded up our brand early so they could fatten up for the
drive to Miles City.”
    Joe resettled his hat and slapped his gloves
against his chaps. “We got to go look just the same. With the herd
cut down to a few thousand head, we're lucky to all be working—some
of the spreads turned out most of their crews. Tyler wouldn't do
that. Besides, I expect you'll be back in just a couple-three
days.”
    “Well, I don't aim to spend any more time on
that north range than I can help.”
    “That's good, Charlie,” Joe said, giving him
a lopsided smile. “The woodshed still needs a roof.”
    “Aw, where else could you get a top hand
who's a carpenter, too?” Charlie asked.
    Joe laughed and shooed him out. “The rest of
you boys, off to the southwest line.”
    Spurs jingled and the bench legs scraped
noisily on the plank floor as the men hurried to their feet, some
grabbing their hats, others gulping a last taste of coffee. They
filed past Libby, shyly murmuring more thank-yous, or touching
their hat brims.
    Charlie's mouth moved in what she guessed was
a smile behind his mustache. “Got to head out, Mrs. Ross. We're
losin' daylight. But we'll be back for one of your suppers as soon
as we can, maybe tomorrow night.”
    Libby couldn't help but smile back at him. He
was definitely full of himself, but in a sweet-natured, harmless
way. She followed them out to the yard and waved, watching them
ride toward the wide valley under a heavy, pewter-gray sky. The
horses blew steamy clouds in the mist, and the sound of their
hooves was muffled by the newly green, rain-soft earth. She found
herself riveted by the scene. This was very much different from the
clatter of traffic on the streets in Chicago. Different, too, from
the ceaseless howl of an arctic wind whistling