Moon of the Falling Leaves, a Western Romance Story Set in the Old West- Page 1
Marshall Blain McBride tore his gaze from the paperwork
lining the large oak desk to take a minute to appreciate the changing colors
outdoor through the bar-lined window adjacent to where he sat.
The sweet gum trees lining Main Street were slowly shifting
from green to red. What a beautiful, wondrous sight. Why couldn’t they remain
this color indefinitely? He much-preferred the reds and golds of the season to
icky green. Autumn was indeed his favorite time of the year.
As for summer, the scorpions and devil-dusters could have
it, with pleasure. Fortunately, the sweltering heat had its back broken two
weeks ago when the first Blue Northern of the season had drifted into town.
It hadn’t arrived in Wicked Stick with a fierce velocity,
rather gentle – changing the air from sticky-hot to cool and breezy, bringing
with it some well-needed rain. The holding ponds on his horse ranch were now
fat and full, the drought of summer finally strangled.
His six-foot-three frame stiffened in the large leather
chair as he noticed Myrtle Wagger passing the window, and then slightly leaning
towards the right – a tell-tale that she was preparing to enter his office.
Her arrival was never anything he looked forward to – as she
was the Wicked Stick’s most committed gossiper. Most of his own cowboys at the
ranch referred to her as Myrtle Tongue-Wagger. She was the ‘give her an inch
and she’d take a mile’ type of woman. A woman on a desperate search for her
other half; for husband material.
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