the Rider Of Ruby Hills (1986) Read Online Free Page A

land known as Hitson Spring.
    "All right, son! Sign her up! I'll get you the deed!"

    Chapter III
    Uneasy Town
    When Ross had pocketed the two papers-the deed from the government to Scott and deeded over to him, and the skin deed from the Co- manches-the old man sat up and reached for the coffeepot.
    "You know what you've done? You've now got a claim on the three best sources of water in Ruby Valley, the only three that are surefire all the year around. And what will they do when they find out? They'll kill you!"
    "They won't find out for a while. I'm not talking until the fight's been taken out of them."
    "What about your claim stakes at Thousand Springs?"
    "Buried. Iron stakes, and driven deep into the ground. There's sod and grass over the top."
    "What about proving up?"
    "That, too. You know how that spring operates? Actually, it is one great big spring back inside the mountain flowing out through the rocky face of the cliff in hundreds of tiny rivulets. Well, atop the mesa there is a good piece of land that falls into my claim, and back in the woods there is some land I can plow. I've already broken that land, smoothed her out, and put in a crop. I've got a trail to the top of that mesa, and a stone house built up there. I'm ip business, Scotty!"
    Scott looked at him and shook his head. Then he pushed back from the table and getting up, went into the store. When he returned he had several boxes of shells.
    "In the mornin' come around and stock up," he suggested. "You better make you a cache or two with an extra gun here and there and some extra ammunition. Maybe a little grub. Be good insurance, and son, you'll need it."
    "That's good advice. I'll do it, an' you keep track of the expense. I'll settle every cent of it when this is over."
    With money in his pocket he walked around the store and crossed the street to the Bit and Bridle. The bartender glanced at him and then put a bottle and a glass in front of him. He was a short man, very thick and fat, but after a glance at the corded forearms, Ross was very doubtful about it all being fat.
    A couple of lazy-talking cowhands held down the opposite end of the bar, and there was a poker game in progress at a table. Several other men sat around on chairs. They were the usual nondescript crowd of the cow trails.
    He poured his drink and had just taken it between his thumb and fingers when the bat- wing doors thrust open and he heard the click of heels behind him. He neither turned nor looked around. The amber liquid in the glass held his attention. He had never been a drinking man, taking only occasional shots, and he was not going to drink much tonight.
    The footsteps halted abreast of him, and a quick, clipped voice said in very precise words, "Are you the chap who owns that fast horse, the one with the black forequarters and the white over the loin and hips?"
    He glanced around, turning his head without moving his body. There was no need for anyone to tell him that this was Bob Vernon. He was a tall, clean-limbed young man who was like her in that imperious lift to his chin, unlike her in his quick, decisive manner.
    "There's spots, egg-shaped black spots over the white," said Haney. "That the one you mean?"
    "My sister is outside. She wants to speak to you."
    "I don't want to speak to her. You can tell her that." He turned his attention to his drink.
    What happened then happened so fast it caught him off balance. A hand grasped him by the shoulder and spun him around in a grip of iron, and he was conscious of being surprised at the strength in that slim hand. Bob Vernon was staring at him, his eyes blazing.
    "I said my sister wanted to speak to you!"
    "And I said I didn't want to speak to her." Ross Haney's voice was slow paced and even. "Now take your hand off me, and don't ever lay a hand on me again!"
    Bob Vernon was a man who had never backed down for anyone. From the East he had come into the cow country of Ruby Valley and made a place for himself by energy, decision,