This Calder Range by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online Page A

of Spanish Bill, but he took note of it.
    â€œNope.” Ely stabbed a knife into the steak sizzling in the skillet’s tallow and turned the meat over.
    â€œI cut his sign this morning,” Jessie said. “But it was two days old.”
    â€œWhere’d you cross his trail?”
    â€œOver by that draw of white brush.”
    â€œI’ll ride over that way tomorrow.” Benteen drank down a swallow of the scalding coffee, strong enough to stiffen his spine and bitter enough to waken his senses.
    Something rustled in the brush, attracting all eyes. The firelight flickered, throwing grotesque shadows through the thicket. Before any of them had time to reach for a weapon, a man called out in an accented voice, “It’s I, Spanish.”
    A lanky form separated itself from the shadows and approached the campfire on foot, lugging the bulky shape of his saddle. When Spanish Bill entered the circle of light, his dirty and ripped clothes told a lot of his story. His limping walk said a bit more.
    â€œWhere’s your horse?” Shorty asked. No one mentioned the fact that Spanish had been absent for three days. His reception wasn’t any different than if they’d seen him that morning.
    â€œBack there.” Spanish indicated the brush with a nod of his head and set his saddle on a barren piece of ground. Dragging his left foot, he limped to the fire and poured himself a cup of coffee. “I thought I would have to spend another night in the bush, until I smelled those steaks.”
    â€œThey’re just about burnt.” Ely indicated the meat was nearly done.
    Spanish limped back to his saddle and loweredhimself to the ground, stretching his injured left leg in front of him and leaning against his saddle.
    â€œI swung my loop on a
ladino,”
Spanish said. He used the Mexican word, which has no true equivalent in the American language. “Outlaw” comes closest to describing a wild cow that will fight to the death for its freedom. “When the rope started to tighten around its neck, he switched ends like a cutting horse. That
ladino
had a horn spread five feet across, maybe six. He charged my horse and hooked a horn into its breast, twisting and pushing. I never had time to throw away the rope. The horse died right underneath me. It was a good horse.” He shook his head briefly. “But the
ladino
, he takes off with my rope.”
    Horses were more easily replaced than good rope.
    â€œWas it a big ole red devil?” Jessie asked.
    â€œSí.”
Spanish nodded.
    â€œI tangled with him a week back. That animal isn’t about to be taken. Don’t waste your time tryin’. You’re better off shootin’ him.”
    No one disagreed.
    Supper consisted of steaks and beans, sopped up with cornbread made out of meal, tallow, water, and a little salt. No one pretended it was delicious. It was food that stuck to the ribs and that was the important thing.
    After they’d eaten, each man scrubbed his own plate clean with sand. Water was too valuable in this country to waste as dishwater. There was still some coffee left in the pot. Benteen poured some of the thick black liquid into his tin cup and sat on the ground in the shadowed fringe of the firelight. When he took the pouch of Bull Durham tobacco from his pocket, he noticed it was nearly empty.
    â€œHey, Benteen.” Shorty broke the weary silence that had settled over the camp. “Are you going to invite us to your wedding?”
    â€œI was thinking about asking all of you to come along with us on our honeymoon,” he replied while his fingers tapered off the rolled cigarette.
    â€œYou serious?” Stretched out on the ground with his saddle for a pillow, Shorty lifted his head to frown narrowly at Benteen.
    â€œSure I’m serious.” He leaned forward to take a burning limb from the fire and hold the glowing end to his cigarette. “Lorna and me could use some