The Abilene Trail by Dusty Richards

Author:Dusty Richards
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.

The day before New Year’s Eve, Ben rode into town. He spotted the deputy coming down the boardwalk in front of the saddlery, and the man signaled that he wanted to talk. Ben reined his horse over to stop before him.

“Coulter’s been talking about you, Ben,” Robert Kilmer said, taking off his felt hat and scratching his head.

“He needs me, he can find me.” Ben checked his gray and reined him to a standstill.

“Trouble is, there’s three now. His two brothers are with him.”

“He crazy?”

Kilmer shrugged. “Says you showed him up in front of folks. Hurt his honor.”

Ben squinted at the deputy. “He must be crazy. He was drunk as a hooter and got in my face. I just tossed him aside. Had better things to do than put up with a drunk.”

“To hear him talk, you pistol-whipped him.”

“Kilmer, the man’s gone off the deep end. I hit him over the head when he wouldn’t quit pestering me.”

“He may be crazy, but he also might try something. Be careful. I’ve seen feuds like this start over nothing and end up with lots of good people getting killed.”

“Hope he’s got a funeral suit,” Ben said, and booted the gray horse on toward the mercantile. His anger raged inside over the stupidity of the whole matter. He needed to order more supplies—at the end of the week they were going back to the border for the rest of the cattle.

Two hours later on his wide, circular ride, he stopped at Jenny’s front door. He dismounted heavily and she came to the doorway with flour all over her hands.

“You caught me, Ben,” she confessed, and smiled.

“How’s that?” he asked, looking around the place.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon and about had an apple-raisin pie made.”

“My favorite kind,” he said, and swept off his hat. “I finished my business in town and rode out. Where’s the boys?”

“Fishing. They shucked all the corn I needed for cornmeal and I let them have some time to be boys.”

“Nice to do that,” he said, and went to the fireplace. He heated his hands and backed up to the hearth. The warmth of the burning oak felt good radiating out at his back.

“Sometimes I worry my boys never have time to be boys.”

“It’s a busy world to grow up in.”

“Too busy,” she said, looking up from her dough rolling.

Ben took a straight-backed chair and sat on it backward to watch her make her pies.

“I sure had fun at the dance,” she said.

He nodded. He guessed everyone in the country knew about them and their intentions after the dance. It didn’t bother him; in fact, he felt proud she’d accepted him. He could do a lot worse than marry her. There were times he wanted to go find a preacher and tie the knot—like this day, him sitting and watching her every move. It would be nice to have a woman of his own, especially her.

“Ben, I don’t want to sound forward. . . .”

He looked up at her. “Yes?”

“We’re both grown-ups, and I guess .

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