Rivers End

"This is Laurel cabin, first one this side of 'Charity'." Smoke told him as they drew up before a meager-looking shack.

They'd been riding all day, and it was after dark now, but they'd been close enough to reach the cabin and Smoke had pushed on.

"How many more before we get back to the ranch?" Rin asked, stepping slowly from the leather. His body was sore and aching.

"Four. That's this side of the Mountains, and Rivers End range stops up there about two days day in, at Buckhead Creek. That's where the second shack is. Our range follows south aways to Hills Lake, then you have to swing east again. Our next line cabin is about a day an' a half from Buckhead, right up in those slopes. Once you hit that, you swing south for a day an' a half then curve in east to Diamond Peak. About halfway south you'll reach Dry Rock cabin, then once you get goin' east, it's 'bout another day to the last cabin, nooked up in the hills. Hard to spot less you know it's there. From there it's a fairly easy ride back to the ranch.

"Eastern edge of the RE heads out straight from 'Charity' Peak and Broken Top then slopes south shy of Bend. You run into the river, and that's our border, the western bank of the eastern branch that is, all the way down to the end. There are three cabins on that route too."

Rin had been building a map of the range in his mind, and the border description now completed it. The line cabins marked the edges of the range, for the hands who worked it and outsiders, whether passerby or neighbor.

They stripped the gear from their horses and rubbed them down with handfuls of grass before picketing them and heading for the cabin. It was clean inside, with firewood laid up for the next men through and soon Rin had a fire burning and coffee on. Smoke pulled out the makings for boiled steak and beans and before too long the two hands were eating quietly and drinking coffee strong enough to float horseshoes.

Rin was spent, his body aching, his eyes burning from no sleep and the bright sun. As soon as dinner was eaten he rolled up in his blankets and was out. He knew Smoke would clean up, and he would be responsible next time. It was not lost on the ranch hand that Temple had laid down facing the door and window, his gun within easy reach of his hand.

When Rin opened his eyes the next morning it was to the dim gray light of dawn and the aroma of fresh coffee. He sat up stiffly and reached for his hat, then tugged on his boots as he stood, rolling his blankets.

"You look a sight," Jones told him dryly.

"You should be me, it's worse to feel it," Temple assured him.

His face was puffy and swollen, and his chest and ribs felt like one massive bruise. Stiffly he walked outside and filled his canteen at the trickling creek a short distance from the cabin. He glanced at his reflection in the water and chuckled softly to himself. Purple, black, and a few knots of swelling. What a sight! Canteen full Rin strolled over to the horses, softly speaking to them, moving the picket line to fresh grass close to the water before going back to the cabin.

Smoke already had breakfast going and Rin gratefully dropped into a chair and helped himself. He was always starving after a stiff brawl, and those RE boys were no easy fight. It was only Temple's fury that kept him on his feet and fighting. He had a deep and terrible temper, and once brought to the surface, it was hard to push back down and lock away. Most times he avoided conflicts, gun or fist, but when he was finally roused and on the prod men scattered or died.

There was one terrible day some years ago, a day when he'd lost his temper and let loose some vengeance that would haunt him all his living days. Five men had been involved, five mean, cruel, lawless men, and one beautiful, frightened girl. He'd caught up with them in the unsettled regions of Wyoming, and what he'd done there- Rin didn't like to dwell on it. Without self-control even good men became monsters.