Holmes on the Range Read Online Free

even worse. Whatever the McPhersons had been up to out here, it sure as hell wasn’t housekeeping.
    â€œThat’s your place there,” Spider said, naturally pointing to the most beat-up building in sight. “Get yourselves situated. . .and don’t go wanderin’ off.”
    Then he did exactly what he’d told us
not
to do. Boudreaux stuck around, watching as we stowed our riding gear, his eyes so cold and hard they could have been yellow marbles.
    â€œI’ve seen plenty of spooks in my time, but damned if you ain’t the
spookiest
,” Anytime snarled at him.
    The albino didn’t take the bait. He just sat atop his horse as motionless as a man sculpted out of chalk.
    He didn’t follow us into our bunkhouse. If he had, he would’ve gotten an earful from
all
of us. The dust was thick enough to make a fine mattress, while the wood was so rotted out Swivel-Eye went straight through to the floor when he tried to take a seat on his bunk.
    â€œHome sweet home,” he sighed as he hauled himself up.
    â€œGod damn,” Anytime spat. “They may as well have us bunkin’ in a hole in the ground.”
    â€œAin’t been nothin’ but snakes in here in years,” Pinky added.
    â€œMaybe that’s a good thing,” I replied, hefting my war bags onto a more sturdy-looking bunk. “I bet it’s been empty so long even the lice have died.”
    â€œThat other bunkhouse looked a little bigger,” my brother said, heaping his things on the bunk below mine. “I reckon that’s where—”
    Before Old Red could finish reckoning, someone hollered outside.
    â€œYou new boys get out here!”
    It was Uly. With him was Spider and another fellow we’d never laid eyes on. Plainly, he wasn’t a cowboy, what with his clean white shirt and black frock coat and pale face. In fact, he had every appearance of being a gentleman, which made him seem out of place betwixt the raggedy-assed McPhersons. He was like a cut of choice sirloin sandwiched by two wormy pieces of moldy bread.
    â€œThis here’s Mr. Perkins, the general manager,” Uly said. “Listen up to what he has to say.”
    We all had permission to stare at the gent now, so I made the most of it. He was a lean fellow, with piercing blue eyes and wavy golden hair that had turned to silver here and there. The gray in his locks notwithstanding, he was no Methuselah, being no older than thirty-five. I’d learned to judge handsome from my sister Greta, who was never shy about expressing her opinion on such things. Her heart would have skipped a beat at the sight of Perkins, as he had the unblemished skin, jutted-out jaw, and general lack of disfigurements she declared essential to a man’s good looks.
    â€œWelcome to the Cantlemere Ranche,” he said, his cold tone conveying little in the way of genuine welcome. His English accent was still strong after his years in the West, and as he continued the long fingers of his left hand began fiddling nervously with a gold chain that looped down from his vest pockets.
    â€œYou are now employees of the Sussex Land and Cattle Company. As such, you will be expected to obey all rules at all times. This means you will not drink, you will not fight, you will not steal. Visitors are not tolerated, nor are unapproved absences. To harbor one or engage in the other is to invite the severest consequence. We do not ask for or reward personal initiative. Quiet obedience is all we want. Mr. McPherson willtell you what to do and what not to do. There is no reason whatsoever for you to speak to me. Am I understood?”
    We all mumbled yessirs, and that was enough for Perkins. Without another word, he walked off toward the castle.
    â€œWhat Mr. Perkins said don’t need explainin’,” Uly said. “Only I’m goin’ to tell you one thing again, cuz I want you to remember it. You go where I say the work is,