Always, Ransom by Reina Torres

Author:Reina Torres [Torres, Reina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-19T22:00:00+00:00

The bunkhouse door opened and Ransom slowly opened his eyes. His bunk was tight against the front wall and even if the world outside were flooded in light, he would still be in a bit of shadow. Booted feet struggled to cross the room in silence, but once there, Ransom could see the hesitation in the form standing beside the other wall of bunks. The only available bed was on top and the man that filled the bottom bunk was Wyeth, who wasn’t a deep sleeper.

A muttered curse narrowed Ransom’s eyes. He knew the voice, or at least he thought he did. Grabbing a handful of his blanket, Ransom eased it down over his narrow hips and down past his knees. From there, his stockinged feet pushed it down to the foot of his bunk.

If he needed to get his gun, the Colt was still in his trunk under his bed. While Levi saw the necessity of the rider carrying guns, he didn’t believe in keeping them in the house. He didn’t like them displayed in the bunkhouse either, so if he needed his gun, it would be a quick scramble for the weapon.

The shadowy figure set something on the upper bunk, a coat perhaps, he wasn’t likely there to steal something.

But when he reached up and grabbed the end of the bunk and the mattress, he lifted a foot to step on the bottom bunk to hoist himself up. The first foot made it up, but the second, found a softer, less substantial foothold.

“What the hell?” Wyeth pushed away from the offending foot and pushed his back up against the wall with a thud.

The sound woke up a few of the other riders who sat up in their bunks, rubbing at their eyes. Ransom slid from his bunk and crossed over when he realized who it was.

“You’re late, Cordell.”

The other man turned to look him square in the face. “Don’t recall having to answer to you, McCain.”

Clay was up and by Ransom’s side, showing his support to the other rider by his presence. “It is late, Cordell, you have a ride tomorrow morning.”

Grabbing his jacket off of the top bunk, Cordell started to move back toward the door, but Wyeth caught his arm easily. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving, going to find myself someplace quiet to sleep.” He shrugged off Wyeth’s hand. “I had a day off. I don’t answer to you.” He looked around the room at everyone with their eyes open. “I don’t answer to any of you.”

“Hey,” legs pushed out from the bottom bunk further down the wall, landing barefooted on the bunkhouse floor, “I get the ‘stay out of my business thing.”

Ransom narrowed his gaze at the other man. He didn’t recognized him immediately, but when the rider stood, his hands pushing against his lower back in a stretch he saw who it was, a rider from the next home station toward the east, Allan Finn. Giving the others a pointedly tired look, Allan sat back down on his borrowed bunk.

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