The Outcast: Gold Town by Luke Cypher

Author:Luke Cypher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2010-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

Hood rode past McKellon’s and Campbell’s places, noting that they were both in the middle of branding season, and on to Hayes’s. He rode up to the main house, but discovered Hayes wasn’t there. Then he rode to Harris’s place. Like Turnbull, Harris had a sign hanging from a crosspiece over his gate, this one letting possible guests know that they would be crossing J-Bar-H range.

He hesitated for a moment, then decided not to ride up to Harris’s house and instead rode on toward Gannon’s place.

Gannon’s spread was about six miles north of Harris’s range, the ranch house and buildings tucked back up in a small side canyon. A spring bubbled up about halfway to the house. But no hay had been put up yet for the winter and as he neared the buildings, he could see where a couple of coats of whitewash were needed and some planks were in need of replacing where they had cracked, leaving wide openings. The bunkhouse looked like it could use a good shingling. But the horses that were in the corral had been well cared for and all looked like they had bottom. There wasn’t a scrub pony on the place.

As Hood neared the house, built of stone and lodgepole pines, someone gave a shrill whistle and a man in worn clothes and scuffed mule-eared boots came out to stand on the porch to watch him as he rode up.

Hood pulled in Sheba when he was near the porch and looked over at the man, who remained silent, waiting on Hood. The man wore a gray shirt with jeans tucked into worn boot tops. He carried a pistol on his hip that showed use. His eyes were a sharp black, his nose humped from being broken a time or two. His hair was as black as a raven’s wing in sunlight. His lips were thin, barely showing.

“Howdy,” Hood said. “I’m Amos Hood. The new minister in town. Thought I’d ride out this way to say hello.”

The man’s face remained expressionless, regarding Hood.

Hood tried again. “I guess this spread is the one farthest north.”

“It is,” the man spoke harshly. “This is Gannon land and I’m Gannon. You’re trespassing.” He looked down at Sam, sitting beside Sheba’s hoofs. “That’s a wolf and we don’t take kindly to wolves around here.”

Hood felt a wash of annoyance and stretched in the saddle, carefully keeping his hands folded over his saddle horn.

“Just trying to be neighborly,” Hood said.

“That why you stood by and let Thompson and Bowdine kill two of my men?”

“They came looking for trouble and they found it. They pushed Thompson and Bowdine. Wasn’t much I could do about that.”

“Don’t matter none to me,” Gannon said. He nodded at the lane behind Hood. “But it’s best if you get back. Wade and Wilson had good friends here. Most of the men are out tending cattle, but they get back and find you here, they ain’t gonna take too kindly to that. Fact is, I feel the same way.

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