The Skyland post. [volume] (West Jefferson, N.C.) 193?-1988, 1942-08-20
y: c>s ssSSss;S&. w. NJ. sc ATOReS

|
Il wanted you to understand
how it came about" said Dave.
I'D just rode up to Ferris ranch,
hopin' to strike a job. Curran
told me I could have one if I
could break Black Dawn. didn't
know the horse was yours. I
thought they was all Ferris
broncs.
"After I got on his back I saw
, he was a killer. 1t was his life
against mine. I broke him, and
he pretty near broke me. That's
all 1 got to say except hope you
understand"
"That's all you've got to say?"
asked the girl.
I'm askin' you to accept my
apologies for what I done. Don't
seem to me there ought to be hard
feelings between us"
"Your feelings don't interest me
one mite, stranger, the girl an
swered. There's Mescal, over
/ there" She pointed. Il reckon
that's your way. My way lies o.
yer yonder." She pointed up the
branching trail. "You ride on and
don't cross my path again. Good
morning"
Dave couldn't see the touch of
her knees upon the flanks of the
black, but instantly it had wheel
ed and was Looping along the trail
that ran up toward the mountains.
And instantly the whole remuda
had wheeled and followed in it's
tracks. Before Dave quite real
lied it, he was sitting on his bay
alone, watching the rapidly dis
appearing herd thudding across
the grass.
He sat there with his eyes on it
until it vanished from sight be-
hind a long hogback. He saw it
appear again, toy horses running
| in the wake of the black, and rap
idly approaching the sage patches
and the scrub that clothed the
base of the foothills.
It was barely two hours since
| he had ridden up to Ferris ranch.
The sun was still high in the sky.
The things that had happened IN
those two hours seemed now IN
conference.-the and almost like a
dream. He was aware that he
was aching from head to foot at
ter his tussle with the black. And
his knuckles were bleeding from
their contact with Curran's
teeth.
The valley narrowed, the track
assembled. Once over the neck
Dave saw the little cowtoWn hud-
died on either bank of a muddy
stream, with the arid, sage-cover-
ed lands on either side of it,
stretching away endlessly toward
the mountains.
Mescal was not much different
from the other cowtowns Dave
had ridden through on his journ-
ey southwark. Rather smaller,
uglier, dirtier, but the same half
dozen stores with their false
fronts, a saloon masquerading as
hotel, and a few frame or adj
ODE houses set down on lots OF all
sorts of angles to one another.
A swinging sign that creaked
dismally in the wind, proclaimed
the hotel to be the WAYS1DE
REST. Four horses were tether-
ed to the rack in front of it. They
were the only living things visible
in the short, dusty street.
Dave rode round and found the
inevitable rusty, galvanized iron
tank, fed with a trickle of water
from a pipe. He gave his bay
a drink, placed him alongside the
others at the rack. Then push
ing open the swinging doors of
the saloon, he went inside. Two
men were seated at a table.
One was an individual of mid
die age, wearing striped trousers
and a faded cutaway coat, with
a ring on his little finger and a.
pearl pin in his tie. The other
was an elderly man with shock
of gray hair under his dilapidat-
ed hat, an unkempt beard, and
clothes that might have been ex-
changed with any average scare
crow without either betting the
better of the bargain.
Upon a wall was notice, ap-
parently struck off from hand
L 81