Free Coroner Creek by Luke; Short

amount of work, influence over two women and the complete domination of two men. The anger, this time at his own black luck, came back to him again, and he thought of. Danning and the Harms women with a hot and bitter hatred.
    The tawny flats lay on all sides of him, deceptively level in the overhead sun that cast no shadow. Yordy looked at the range now with the eye of a man who has, in the past, worried about its condition. It had been a dry summer, and this grass would barely keep fat on a range cow through the winter. Yordy thought of the bunch of two-year-olds that Della was going to have to buy feed for this winter, and the thought pleased him now, whereas this morning it had been worrying him. Why did he care? Henhouse’s hard luck was his good luck, he thought now.
    An hour later he came to the bridge over Coroner Creek, and put his horse down for a drink, watching the clear water brawling over the rocky bottom. He went on and was presently near the juncture of the Coroner Canyon road that ran string-straight from Triumph to the Blackbows and over the pass. Approaching it, he saw a rider coming from the mountains, and he raised his hand and felt his jaw; it was swollen, but not much. A sudden surge of bravado came to him. To hell with what anyone thought. He’d taken a licking from Danning while trying to save Della Harms from a criminally foolish move. Yordy had already begun to taste the pleasures of martyrdom.
    As he drew closer to the crossroads, he saw that the rider was Mrs. Miles. A nice instinct for comfortable survival told Yordy that if he could make his story pitiful enough, he might, through Mrs. Miles’ intercession, be taken on at Rainbow. Beyond that, however, was the woman herself, pretty, friendly, but an object of sly gossip and curiosity among the riffraff Yordy liked. And a drinker, according to this gossip.
    Yordy reached the crossroads first and reined up, and when Abbie Miles approached, he touched his hat respectfully and said, “Nice day, Mrs. Miles,” and put his horse beside hers.
    â€œBeautiful,” Abbie agreed pleasantly. “Almost too nice, Frank. Is your range burning out like everyone else’s?” Abbie rode her big chestnut sidesaddle. She wore a suit of some dark green material with divided skirt, and a tricorn hat that did not begin to pen her rich, raven hair. There was something almost shy about her greeting, and Yordy, remembering. Danning’s disclosure, and wise in the ways of many excesses, almost smiled. Remorse was making her humble, more pleasant than usual, even.
    He kept his face grave, however, and shook his head slowly. “I haven’t any interest in Box H range any more, Mrs. Miles. I’d say it was burning out, though.”
    Abbie looked closely at him, her blue eyes at once full of concern. “You mean you’ve left, Frank.”
    â€œI was thrown off,” Yordy said calmly, with just the right tinge of sadness in his tone. He glanced over at Mrs. Miles and saw that his news was having the desired effect, for she was troubled.
    â€œThat would take a pretty good man, Frank.”
    â€œHe is a pretty good man. Or at least the Harms women think so, because that’s why they hired him.”
    â€œWho is he?” Abbie asked curiously.
    â€œChris Danning, a drifter,” Frank said, watching Abbie. But the name seemed not to register, and Yordy thought with an amused malice, She don’t even know who brought her home .
    â€œAnd what’s he doing there?”
    â€œGettin” ready to tie into Rainbow,” Frank said bluntly. “I guess it’s no news to you, Mrs. Miles, that there’s bad blood between Rainbow and Box H.”
    â€œNo,” Abbie said softly, not looking at him.
    â€œI done my best to keep the peace,” Yordy said gravely. “For my pains, I get pitched out by a stranger. Not even given time enough to get my clothes.”
    Abbie didn’t say anything,