Louis L'Amour Read Online Free Page B

up in bed, she swung her feet to the floor, feeling for her slippers. “Thank God, papa,” she whispered to herself, “you never had a son!”
    He would have been shocked to hear her say it, but had there been a son, she would never have learned how to do so many things that now she knew. He had loved having her ride out with him in the morning, and she had learned how to handle horses, how to keep a stable, even how to use a whip.
    “This will all be yours someday,” her father had said, “and you’d better know how to run it. If the man you marry is no better than some of those I’ve seen coming around here, you will need to know.
    “And, honey, you handle your own affairs yourself. Manage your own money. Let nobody else do it no matter how well they think they can handle it. Always keep your own money in your own hands!”
    Luckily, Marshall had agreed. Even before they were married, he assured her, “Keep what’s your own. Our children will have something to start with no matter what. I’ll take care of you.”
    They had not planned for a war. They had not expected the lovely plantation to be devastated, the buildings burned, fences torn down, stock driven off by guerrillas.
    She would check the supplies in the station storeroom, the tools, the harness, the horses, and the feed situation. In the kitchen, she sat down and made a list of things that would need doing. Only then did she bathe and dress.
    When she returned to the kitchen, Matty had coffee on and was preparing breakfast. “I found some bacon, mum, and there’s eggs.”
    “Matty? I don’t want to frighten you, but keep your pistol where you can reach it.”
    “Yes, mum. I don’t frighten easy, mum. I grew up with four big brothers and had to fight for it all until they were growed enough to respect me.” She filled Mary’s cup. “They were troubling times, mum, and there was many a time when I wished for a gun but had none.”
    There was a tap on the door, and when Matty opened it, Wat was there, and behind him, Temple Boone.
    Mary hesitated, looking into her cup. It had to be done; she must ask them because she must have them. She could not do it all alone.
    “Wat? Would you like to work for me? Here?”
    “Yes, ma’am, as long as it’s men’s work.”
    “It is. The first thing will be to clean the stable.”
    “That’s a mighty big job for one man,” Boone protested. “I mean, the way Luther left it.”
    “I can do it.” Wat looked up belligerently. “I’ll want five dollars a month and found.”
    “Do a good job and I’ll pay you ten.” She lifted her eyes to Boone. “How about you? Are you looking for work?”
    “No.” He spoke quickly, and something seemed to give way inside her. She could not do it alone. The outside work would be too much. “But I promised myself I’d stay on and see you get settled. I might ride over to Bonner’s. I hear tell there’s been a man rustlin’ work over there.”
    “Neither of you will probably want to help when you hear what I have planned.” She paused again. “I want this job. I need this job. I’ve got to have this place in such shape by the time Mark Stacy gets here that he’ll have no reason to discharge me.”
    “He’s a reasonable man.”
    “Do you know him?”
    “I do. He’s a widower. No family. Eats, sleeps, and breathes this stage line.”
    “A young man?”
    “Depends on where you start countin’. I’d say he’s about forty. I’d say he’s young enough to see that you’re a mighty handsome woman.”
    She flushed and looked straight into his eyes. “I am not thinking of that. However I may look is not going to help me one bit on this job. It will be what I do and how well I do.”
    “You’re right about that. Stacy will see you’re a pretty woman, but like I said, he lives this stage line. If you’re not doin’ the job, he wouldn’t keep you on if you was Cleopatra.”
    “I would feel the same way, Mr. Boone. What I want to do is have this