Read The Last Renegade for Free Online Page A

thumb over his shoulder to indicate the trunks.
    “It is.”
    Finn turned around to look where his brother was pointing. “Sure. We can put all that on the wagon. Won’t be a bit of bother.”
    “Then get to it,” Collins said, and the boys were out the door with significantly less commotion than when they entered. “They’ll bring the buckboard around, back it up to the platform, and drag the trunks over to the bed. Won’t take them but a few minutes. And in case you’re wondering why they’re so eager, it’s because they like to visit with the widder.”
    “Good to know. I thought they sized me up as someone who would give them money for their trouble.”
    “Could be they did, but it won’t hurt them to learn different.” Collins picked up several envelopes and neatly squared them off, tapping one corner against the countertop. “You never did tell me your name,” he said casually.
    “You never did ask.”
    Collins chuckled. “You know what? I don’t think I will. Nothing wrong with speculating on it until the boys get back from the hotel.”
    “You think they’ll wheedle it out of me?”
    The station agent spoke quite sincerely. “Wheedle? You count yourself fortunate if they don’t set your hair on fire.”
    Bitter Springs had a wide main street typical of cattle towns that were serviced by the railroad. Corrals near the station accommodated the herd until the cows were driven single file onto the waiting cattle cars. Except for a half-dozen horses milling around close to the livery, the corrals were empty.
    In contrast, the thoroughfare and the wooden walkways on either side of it were crowded. From his cushioned perch on the buckboard, Kellen observed that the station agent’s grandsons knew everyone in town, or at least everyone that was out and about. In spite of a clear azure sky and a sun suspended overhead like a crystal ball, there was a chill in the air. It began to settle deeply in Kellen’s bones almost as soon as he left the station. He sat between Rabbit and Finn with the collar of hisleather duster turned up and the brim of his black Stetson turned down. For their part, the boys didn’t seem to notice the sharp bite of the wind and frequently pulled down their scarves to call out an enthusiastic greeting to a passerby. Their cheeks were positively apple red with windburn and excitement, and Kellen thought the latter’s influence might be the greater one.
    Rabbit held the reins loosely, letting the dappled mare meander at a pace a three-legged mule could outrun, while Finn, often in the middle of his commentary about the town and its inhabitants, repeated his request to be allowed to have his turn.
    Kellen turned his attention from the brotherly bickering by making mental notes as the buckboard passed one establishment after another. He learned that Mr. Ransom operated the livery and what he didn’t know about horses wasn’t worth knowing. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson owned the mercantile for dry goods and every kind of whatnot, including things Finn wasn’t sure there was a use for. The land office was where Mr. Harry Sample and his cousin, Mr. Charles Sample, worked. Mrs. Garvin and her daughters, Millicent and Marianna, fashioned clothes and hats for the ladies and sometimes shirts for men as long as the shirts were for fancy occasions and not for range riding. The kind of clothes that a man needed for long days in the saddle and nights on the ground could be bought at Ted Rush’s hardware along with tools for every particular job. Mr. Burnside was the town druggist, but his wife worked behind the soda fountain and made cherry phosphates for two pennies, or one if that’s all you had and you asked her real nice.
    There was a bathhouse and laundry owned by the Taylors, and a barbershop next door where you could get yourself nicked proper by Mr. Stillwell’s apprentice if you didn’t know enough to ask for Mr. Stillwell. Mr. Webb managed the Cattlemen’s Trust Bank, although there