Chancy (1968) Read Online Free

reading a pack of dime novels and magazines brought in from the outside. For two months I loafed and considered the future whatever of a future I hoped to have.
    That is, nobody came until the last day. There was a restlessness on me then, and a honing for far-off places. I'd cleaned my guns and was working over the leather of my gunbelt and holster when I suddenly decided to ride out for the West. My grub was about gone, so it was time to leave. I had started packing the last of my outfit when I heard a girl singing.
    She was coming up along the creek that ran downhill to the Dunvegan place, and from the way she was singing I knew she was not expecting to see anybody. Then she stepped clear of the woods and pulled up short. It was Kitty Dunvegan.
    It was Kit, only something had happened to her in the year I'd been away. She'd started showing quite a figure in all the proper places, and most of her freckles were gone, leaving only a sprinkling over her nose.
    "Oh it's you!" she said. Suddenly I was glad that I was cleaned up for travel, with a fresh shave and my hair combed and all. "I didn't think there'd be anybody here."
    "I wasn't exactly notifying folks," I said.
    "Have you been here long? I've been off to school." Her eyes went to my saddled-up horse. "You going away?"
    "It came on me to ride. To Santa Fe, maybe, or somewhere north."
    "It must be wonderful to just ride off ... anywhere you want to, like that. Have you ever been to Santa Fe?"
    "Yes, ma'am. I worked for a freight outfit going out. I rode for a cattle ranch south of there around Tularosa."
    "Are the Spanish girls pretty?"
    "I reckon so. Black eyes, and all."
    "Do you like black eyes?"
    "Until now," I said, looking into her blue eyes, "I always thought them the prettiest."
    She blushed a mite, and it was fetching. So we just sat talking for a spell, of all manner of things, and I told her some about Indian fighting on the plains of the buffalo.
    "Will you ever come back?" she asked.
    "Nothing to come back for," I said. "I've been coming for the mountains and this ol' cabin. It ain't much, but it's mine. This Chancy land is deeded land, and I kept the taxes paid, and all. But I don't know if I'll ever come again. Maybe when I'm an old man."
    "You could come to see me," she said.
    "What would your sister say? And your friends down on the flatland?"
    "I won't care. I won't care what anybody thinks."
    "I'll come then," I told her, "I'll surely come."
    She laughed suddenly. "You scared them," she said. "You scared them all that last time. Even Stud Pelly ..."
    "They came a-hunting it." I looked at her. "You the one who has been sweeping up inside?"
    Her cheeks grew pink. "I wanted it to be clean when you came back. Besides, I come here sometimes when I want to be alone. Pa said it was all right."
    "We're neighbors, like. Our deeded land fronts against yours at the bottom of the hill. Grandpa and pa, they filed on the whole ridge. The land ain't of much account, but pa wanted it. We claimed some, and bought some."
    Kit got up suddenly. "I've got to go. Priss will come looking for me."
    "Does she come up here?"
    "Oh, no. I don't believe anyone knows of that path but you and me."
    "Well, it ain't much of a path."
    All of a sudden I felt awkward. I had no idea what to do, so I thrust out my hand. "Kit, I'm coming back," I said. "You can figure on it. I daren't come back until I can stand against them. All of them, if need be."
    "Don't you be too long," she said.
    She walked away to the edge of the woods beside the brook, then looked back. "Pa wonders why you never called on your kinfolk for help," she said. "Everybody knows the Sacketts. They're fighters."
    "I never asked for help. I ain't likely to."
    That was all we said. When she was gone I threw a leg over the dun and hunted my path down the trail.
    I was going to come back, all right. I was going to come back and face up to Martin Brimstead and Stud Pelly. And then I'd go calling ... I'd go calling on Kitty