The Plains of Laramie by Lauran Paine Read Free Book Online Page A

they’re robbin’ an’ don’t want no witnesses…or else they’re just plain killers at heart. It was one of these here kind that killed Buff.”
    Tallant was soberly quiet for a few seconds before he answered. “Yeah, I reckon you’re right.” He shrugged slightly. “Well, what you want me to do with the critter?”
    Dugan was shuffling out of the livery barn as he spoke. “Jus’ leave him there. I don’t allow he’ll make it, anyway, from the looks of them holes, so jus’ leave him where he can die in peace.” He was out of thebarn when he finished speaking and he turned toward his office without a backward look. Les Tallant watched him go thoughtfully, then walked slowly over to the Royal House for his breakfast.

Chapter Two
    There was a huge old wooden gate that had the D-Back-To-Back burned deeply into its crossbar where the road swung past and the Vermilion Kid rode through it. His big black horse was ambling along sleepily and the Kid appraised the little bunches of cattle he saw here and there as he followed the well-worn ranch road. The beef looked good. Of course, there were a few old cows whose bones showed, but they all had big, fat calves by their sides. Mostly, though, the cattle were fat as ticks and placidly contented.
    The buildings were old, weather-beaten, but well kept up. The house alone was painted and its verandah ran completely around it, shading the outer walls. An assortment of old, cane-bottomed chairs and a hammock or two were in the shade. There was the clear, clarion ringing of a man working at an anvil and the sound, musical and strident, rode down the hot summer air to the Kid as he rode up to a log hitch rail before the house, swung down, and tied up.
    There was no sign of human activity among the buildings, and, except for the unseen smithy, the ranch might have been deserted. The Kid’s spurs tinkled softly as he walked across the cool, shadowy verandah and knuckled the door. While he waited, the Kid looked at the gray old pole corrals and the huge log barn, all tight and solid. He felt a glow ofappreciation. Here was a Western ranch where you didn’t have to strain your innards every time you opened a gate. That was as it should be, but all too seldom—it wasn’t the way things were kept, generally speaking. His musings were interrupted and he turned back as the door swung open. The Kid’s hat came off and he was standing face to face with a small, full-bodied, and red-eyed woman. Toma Dodge. For an instant she looked up at him blankly, then recognition swept over her face. He could feel the wall of antagonism building up between them.
    “Please, Miss Dodge, I’m sorry about yesterday. It won’t happen again.”
    “Is that what you rode all the way out here to say?”
    He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I heard about your father an’ I came out to offer my help in any way you want to use it.” He said it exactly as he had rehearsed it. It was better to be diplomatic than to come right out and say he was a lethal killer and would gladly gun down the murderers of her father. This way she might let him help.
    There was a flash of anger through the anguish in her face. She tossed her small, taffy-colored head in that mannerism he remembered so well and the words cut deeply. “Thank you, Mister Vermilion Kid, but I think one encounter with renegades, in the past twenty-four hours, has proven disastrous enough for my family. I don’t think I want to chance another accident.” The way she said “accident” made the Kid squirm inwardly. He stood in silent anger for a long moment, just looking down into the wide violet eyes. Then the anger dropped away and he nodded twice, curtly and softly.
    “I knew it was foolish to come out here and offermy services. I knew you’d say something like that.” He put his dusty black Stetson on with an unconscious gesture. “Well, Miss Dodge, I hope someday you learn to judge people better.”
    He turned abruptly and started