 |
 |
|
|
[ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ] And the company couldn't have been better. He almost felt giddy, like he figured it would be with a beer or two buzzing in his head. The urge to touch his lover was damn near irresistible. He wanted to ghost his fingers over Larry's scraped and callused knuckles, slide his hand up over his muscled, hairy forearm. Larry caught his gaze, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He drained his beer in a long gulp, wiped the foam from his upper lip and twitched his head toward the door. Temper hid a grin behind one hand as he waved to Stanley for a room key. His britches felt too tight, making him walk like he'd spent a few days in the saddle. Stopping at the door to wait for his lover, he caught a glimpse of Arcady over Larry's shoulder. The man had one eye swollen and turned black and was watching them with an expression that looked a whole lot like fear. And then Larry squeezed by him in the doorway, filling Temper's nose with the smell of soap and horse and man, and God help him, but Temper forgot about every damn thing else and followed his lover like a mooncalf, around the back of the saloon and up the rickety stairs to their room. * * * * They slept naked and tangled together in the chilly room, sweat drying on their limbs under the thin quilt. Temper was 162 The Last Chance Ranch by D.G. Parker dreaming of a vast, flat plain, a dream he'd had before. He rode for miles as fast as his horse would gallop, hooves beating against the cracked earth, raising puffs of dirt with every stride. On the horizon he could see the barest wisp of smoke, and he knew it was rising from the chimney of a little house. Inside the house was everything he'd been searching for, all his grown days. The dream had changed though, because finally, finally, he was getting closer, closing the distance at last. His goal was coming into view. The hoof beats grew louder, sharper— He snapped awake, fumbling to turn up the lamp. Beside him, Larry bolted upright with a snort. The knocking at the door continued. Temper all but fell out of bed, swearing as he stubbed his toe hard on the bedside table. He yanked his trousers on, paused, and then pulled his pistol out of its holster and held it loosely at his side. A glance behind him showed Larry also had his gun at the ready, though he hadn't bothered with clothes. At a nod from his lover, Temper cracked open the door. James Arcady stood in the hall, blinking hard. The bruise on his eye stood out against his chalky face. Temper had just enough time to notice the dark stain on his fancy embroidered shirt before the man toppled forward into his arms. "Jesus!" Temper stumbled under the weight of him. Larry jumped to help, and together they wrestled Arcady onto the bed. With the lamp turned up all the way, the man looked even worse. He had blood in his teeth, and pink foam was oozing out one side of his mouth. He took one wheezing, 163 The Last Chance Ranch by D.G. Parker tortured breath after another, and the left side of his chest didn't hardly move at all. "Oh Lord," Temper murmured. "You best go get the doc." Arcady was having none of it. He caught at Larry's wrist before the younger hand could more than twitch toward the door, hanging on with the desperate strength of a driven man. "Stop 'em," he gasped. "I couldn't." "What happened?" "Damn Mexican... he's crazy, stuck me... gotta stop him!" The man's urgency was scaring the daylights out of Temper. "Stop what, James?" "Took some boys... to the ranch... he's gonna burn it...." Fear sliced through Temper like a blade, from his heart straight down to his groin. He looked at Larry and found him wide-eyed and pale as wax, and for a long second they stared at each other, frozen in shock. Arcady, his strength fading fast, gave Larry's arm a shake and looked up at him with pleading eyes. When he spoke, they had to lean in close to hear his shaking whisper. "Sorry... what I done to you... weren't right... didn't know...." Arcady coughed, sending a fine spray of blood over the lower half of his face. "My old man... done it to me, I was a boy." Larry's face flashed through a whole range of feelings— shock, anger, sadness—and then he leaned in close, almost nose to nose with the dying man. Arcady's lips were moving, whispering, "sorry, sorry," over and over again. Larry laid his hand on his pale, sweating forehead, and Temper knew it for what it was. A blessing. A benediction. 164 The Last Chance Ranch by D.G. Parker Forgiveness. Arcady peered up with eyes that didn't seem to focus, but he must have seen what he needed to see. He sighed, and the tension left his face, leaving calm acceptance in its place. His grip on Larry's wrist loosened, and Larry took his hand in both of his and held it tight. Temper took hold of the other hand. They sat quietly. In less than a minute, the horrible, gasping breaths fell silent, and James Arcady died. Precious seconds ticked away while they sat, nailed in place by shock. Temper was the first to shake it off. "Oh Jesus, we gotta get back to the ranch." They scrambled for clothes, boots, and guns, left the room in a hurried tangle, and clattered down the stairs. Temper stopped short. "Get the horses. I'll meet you at the stable." There wasn't a single light on, all up and down Main Street. Temper could see well enough in the moonlight as he ran across the street to the little church. Ignoring the front entrance, he ran around to the side that led to the old priest's living space and pounded on the door. "Father!" he hollered, beating the wood with his gloved fist, "Father Percy! It's Temper Free, from the Bar J! Need your help!" A light came on in the rectory. Temper waited, still knocking impatiently, until the door cracked open, and Percy's thin face peered out. Wasting no time, Temper poured out the particulars. "A man's dead, Father, name of James Arcady. Somebody stabbed him, said it was that Mexican captain. He's upstairs from the saloon. I need you to see to him and get the sheriff. Me and Larry are headed back to the ranch, Mexican's gonna 165 The Last Chance Ranch by D.G. Parker burn it down." Percy looked bewildered and opened his mouth, but Temper had no time to answer questions and was already running toward the stables. Larry had their horses saddled. They mounted up and took off at a purely dangerous pace, Temper forcefully reminded of his nightmare, of riding hard toward a goal that never got any closer. He prayed as he rode, prayed that neither horse would break a leg or throw a shoe, prayed that they'd get there in time and find all their friends and animals safe. He prayed that James Arcady's death hadn't been for nothing. * * * * Obie blinked into the darkness of the bunkhouse and tried to figure out why he was suddenly awake. He listened hard, hearing nothing but the various snores and farts of the other hands as they slept, and figured he'd been dreaming or some [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ] |