Incident at Coyote Wells
Page 10
‘They’re releasing Ben. Come on, come on!’
When we reached the prison we found a solitary figure standing before the Judas Gate. He was of medium height with light brown hair, with evident prison pallor. In one hand he held a brownpaper-wrapped bundle, his personal belongings, I supposed. Beth gave a little cry, released my hand and rushed to embrace her brother. I noticed that his hand started to rise but never quite touched her. Beth urged me forward.
‘This is Ben!’ she said and her eyes were beyond luminous. ‘Ben this is my husband, John Magadan, the man who worked so hard to win your release.’
The pale man took my offered hand and shook it lightly. His grip was damp and lifeless, and I wondered if they had broken his spirit behind those high walls. He and Beth started on ahead of me, returning to the cottage. I trailed, letting them have their moment of reunion. That was done then. Beth had won her long battle through sheer perseverance.
I looked to the pale skies where the sheerest of clouds swept past before a twisting wind. It had been cooler lately. The desert no longer seemed so formidable. It was time, I thought, to travel on to California.
ELEVEN
We purchased a stone house from a man who had had enough of the West and wanted to return to his family in Maryland to finish out his days. The house had forty acres surrounding it. The graze was not quality grass, but it was enough to sustain the thirty or so horses we planned to purchase. The area was called Boulder Oaks and the name was an apt description of the tiny community. Stacks of granite boulders with scattered groves of live oak trees here and there.
The house had three rooms, the front room fairly large, consisting of an open kitchen and living room. Two bedrooms faced each other down a short hallway. The thick stone walls kept out the heat of the day and in the evening we would start a low-burning fire in the large, arched fireplace. There was a sense of security about the house, as solidly built as it was. Beth set to work happily from the first day decorating, starting a flower garden along the front wall of the house. I busied myself with purchasing a few horses and training them.
Ben had begun to get some color back in his face, and working around the place had helped him regain some of the muscle that had wasted away in prison. Yet he did not seem comfortable there, living with his married sister and her husband, and I sensed as time went on that Beth, too, was a little ill at ease with the arrangement. Of course she would never say a word, and neither would I.
Nevertheless we were surprised one bright morning when Ben walked into the house and sat at the table with us, his arms folded. He had been carrying his saddlebags and so he hardly had to tell us: ‘I need to be going, Beth. John. I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did, but it’s time. I still have my little ranch up near Flagstaff, though my horses will be gone to hell and beyond. I need,’ he said simply, ‘to be my own man again.’
After a few comments about understanding his wishes, Beth and I rose and followed Ben out into the yard. His roan pony was waiting there, and he swung up easily into the saddle. He started to say something else to Beth, but did not. He simply waved a farewell and turned his horse eastward, riding out of our lives.
I studied Beth closely as she watched her brother drift away, wondering if she were going to shed tears. Instead, when she turned to face me her big blue eyes were sparkling and her smile was full and warm. She slipped her arm around my waist and we went into the house. I closed the door behind us.
About the Author
Paul Lederer spent much of his childhood and young adult life in Texas. He worked for years in Asia and the Middle East for a military intelligence arm. Under his own name, he is best known for Tecumseh and the Indian Heritage Series, which focuses on American Indian life. He believes that the finest Westerns reflect ordinary people caught in unusual and dangerous circumstances, trying their best to act with honor.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2007 by Logan Winters
Cover design by Michel Vrana
ISBN: 978-1-4804-8846-5
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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