Runabout by Pamela Morsi

Author:Pamela Morsi [Morsi, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780515113051
Google: S5DBQewtbJUC
Amazon: 0515113050
Goodreads: 692922
Publisher: Jove
Published: 1994-02-01T05:00:00+00:00

}Tender and true;

}Dearest my heart is dreaming,

}Dreaming of you!"

}

}Blue Turley's room was in the upper floor of the stockyards' office building. The outside stairway was dark and narrow, but Blue and Emma might well have been better able to negotiate it had the cowboy not been carrying his tack and saddle, and had he not celebrated his victory over Luther Briggs by imbibing nearly half a jug of corn liquor on the way back to town.

}"Emma, sweet Emma, I've been waiting for this day for many a moon," he told the woman at his side drunkenly.

}She made no reply. From the moment she'd seen Luther lying on the ground, she'd known that her bargain had been stupid. She'd felt no elation, no vindication at his defeat. She'd felt only strangely sad for a friend who was hurt. A friend. That's what Luther had always been to her. They had shared some laughter, some happy times, and some pleasure. But there had never been love. Luther had been her friend. Perhaps she hadn't realized that because she had so few.

}"The first day I seen you," Turley continued, clearly delighted by his turn of fortune, "I said to Ferd, 'I'm gonna have me a little taste of that one.' That's what I told him, sure as the world."

}Emma shuddered with distaste. She had lain with Luther just for the pleasure of it. Could she lie with Blue Turley for services rendered? Somehow, for all her sordid reputation, this seemed worse, much worse, than anything she had ever done.

}"This is it, this is it," Turley said as they reached the top of the stairs. He pushed open a weathered and scarred door. The mingled smells of horse sweat, leather, and old boots was unpleasant. "Welcome to my little home-sweet-home."

}Emma hesitated at the threshold for only an instant. Turley slung an arm around her waist and pulled her inside. She glanced around nervously as she freed herself from his grasp. The center of the room held nothing but a worn cot covered by a disreputable-looking, moth-eaten blanket. On the left, a couple of crates had been hammered together to form a washstand. And a cracked mirror was nailed to the wall above it. On the far side of the room, Turley carefully laid out his tack. Saddle, bridles, lariats, and horse blankets were stored with some care. Turley's own clothes lay around on the floor in casually thrown heaps. The cowboy walked right across his dirty laundry as if it were rugs.

}"It ain't much, but it's mine."

}Emma began to feel as dirty as the room looked. "Blue, I've been thinking about this and—"

}With a hearty laugh, Turley pulled Emma roughly into his arms. "I've been thinking about it too. Been thinking about it so much, I cain't even sleep good at night."

}"I'm not really—"

}"You think you've been having fun with Luther Briggs. That metal-heap wrangler don't know half the moves and tickles I can show you. Wait till you see how a real cowboy can scratch what's itching ya.

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