Once a Ranger Read Online Free PDF Page B

against the wagon wheel to catch up. “We made it.”
    He laughed, then whispered in her ear, “It was worth coming late for both of us.”
    She smiled, proud as a kitten, and they went inside arm in arm. They ate off their own tin plates piled high with food, sitting over in a corner of the schoolhouse among other ranch folks they knew. Everyone was in a good mood. They bragged on Guthrey’s fast enforcement of the law since his election and how many were going or had gone to prison.
    Mike Newton, a rancher, said, “The judge gave Slegal ten years for his rapes and for night-raiding ranches to make people run away. He won’t ever live for that long in Yuma Prison. He can sure rot there for my money.”
    Heads bobbed. The worst one of the lot was going to sweat out his life in that hell. Guthrey picked through all the food on his plate; he’d taken more than he could eat. Oh well, it wasn’t the first time in his life he’d done that. He’d do the best he could.
    Cally must have noticed. “Did you save a place for some desert?”
    â€œLord, Cally, I can’t eat any more,” he whispered.
    â€œNo problem. Give me your plate. There’s strawberry pie and pecan.”
    â€œCut me a sliver of each.”
    She shared a smile and took off with both plates. In a few minutes she was back with both kinds of pie on a clean plate for him.
    He shook his head at her delivery. But he enjoyed it, like he did her.
    She asked Thomas and Ruth Nelson, who owned the Mount Graham cabin, about that property while Guthrey was outside talking to other folks, and they told her that anytime she and Guthrey wanted to use it, just give them the word. Cally told Guthrey this while they waltzed to a fiddle song across the floor.
    â€œWonderful.” He gave her a tight hug and then whirled her around. She laughed and they were off again.
    They went to their tent around midnight. On the cot, they took another turn at wife and husband activity and fell asleep in each other’s arms. He awoke a few hours before dawn. Someone was calling his name.
    â€œSheriff Guthrey. Sheriff Guthrey?”
    He stepped into his pants as Cally got up, wrapped herself in a blanket to hide her nakedness, and swept up his pistol. “Here, take this. You don’t know, it might be a trick.”
    â€œThanks.” He kissed her quickly and stuck it in his waistband. Then, bareheaded, he ducked outside in the predawn buttoning his shirt.
    â€œWho’s calling my name?”
    â€œMe,” a woman said, coming back. Tears wet her face under the starlight. “They’ve murdered the Carlson family. I have been riding for hours to find you. They said you’d be here.”
    She fell into his arms, and he dropped to his knees to set her on the ground.
    â€œAnyone know these folks?” he asked as other half-dressed men and women poured out of tents to see what was going on.
    â€œWho is it, Guthrey?”
    The woman was huddled and crying her eyes out.
    Dressed, Cally joined them, sat down beside the woman, and forced her to sit up with her. “Where is their place?”
    â€œIn Gregory Canyon. I hadn’t seen them in two days so I went up there after dark—they’re all dead. Murdered—” She broke down and cried some more.
    â€œI want someone to loan me a horse and someone to show me their place.” Guthrey rose and looked over the crowd in the starlight for a volunteer.
    â€œWhat should I do to help you?” his wife asked him privately.
    â€œCally, they’ll help you take down the tent. I’ll be back to the ranch when I solve this matter.”
    She nodded her head. “Be careful. I’ll be fine.”
    He went to the tent and dressed. He strapped on his gun belt and holstered his six-gun and, with his hat on, he went outside to put a saddle on the big horse that rancher Ervin Ralston had brought up for him to ride.
    â€œYour