Read Online Deadman Canyon by Louis Trimble - Free Book Online

along the edge of Clay’s swampland. Clay pulled Coniff’s rifle from the boot and then let Coniff work his way into the saddle.
    “You try any fancy tricks and you’ll learn what a roped steer feels like,” Clay said. “Start riding.”
    Coniff squirmed his arms around in front of his body and managed to get the reins into his hands. He started his horse forward sullenly.
    “You make a man feel like dirt,” he complained.
    Clay said only, “Just head for town.”
    He glanced around as they came into the valley. He could see some of the Winged L men haying in a distant pasture, but they were too far away to see what was going on.
    They neared the new fencing which marked the edge of Damson’s land. Clay saw the bulky figure of Ben Pike some distance ahead. Pike was working on a corner fence post with a hammer and a bag of staples, but he stopped quickly enough when he saw Clay and Coniff coming steadily down the road.
    He took a long, gape-mouthed look and then broke for his horse. Clay reached down for his rifle. He let it fall back into the boot as he saw Pike rein his horse around and head for Damson’s big house.
    Trouble
, Clay thought. Pike would have gone to tell Damson or Vanner what had happened.
    Clay urged the dun to more speed. Coniff tried to hold his horse back, and Clay swung around to him. “Don’t count on Damson helping you,” he said. “If you’re working for him and he gets the idea you might talk, he’ll shoot you first and think up a reason later.”
    Coniff kicked frantically at his horse, sending it galloping up the road.

VIII
    B ICK D AMSON drove his big palomino at top speed the three miles from his place into town. He followed the hill road, making a wide swing so that he came into the alley behind the Cattlemen’s Bar from the far side of town. He rode the horse into a small barn and got hurriedly out of the saddle. He strode across the alley and into the rear door of the Cattlemen’s.
    He was in a narrow hallway with the door to the barroom straight ahead and a flight of stairs leading upward on his left. He climbed the stairs two at a time and entered a door at the top.
    The room was fitted out as a combination parlor and office. Molly Doane was seated behind a desk, making entries in a ledger. She looked up coldly as Damson shut the door behind him.
    “This is my room,” she said. “You’ve been told to come in here only when you’re invited. You have a room of your own. Use it.”
    “Where’s Vanner?” he demanded. “I got to talk to him.”
    “Downstairs eating his supper,” she answered. She went back to her work. “Now get out of here.”
    “Don’t get so high and mighty with me,” Damson shouted. “It’s my money that put you here. Go tell Vanner I want him and be quick about it!”
    She paid no attention to him and he strode angrily to the desk, one hand lifted. Molly opened a desk drawer and brought out a small gun. Only then did she lift her head and look at Damson.
    He stopped abruptly. “By God,” he whispered. “I think you’d like a reason for shooting me.” He took a backward step. “Put that thing away and listen to me. All hell’s going to bust loose pretty soon. Get Vanner up here.”
    Molly stood up. “Go to your own room and I’ll bring him.” She looked around at the expensive furniture. “I don’t want you in here, dirtying up the only decent things I ever owned.”
    Damson backed to ward the door. “Someday Vanner’ll get tired of you. Then you’ll be glad to have me around. And anyone else you can get.”
    Fear touched Molly Doane’s eyes briefly. She turned hurriedly away from Damson’s gaze. “Just get out,” she said.
    Damson jerked open the door and strode down the hall to a room that had been set aside for him. He hurried to a sideboard and poured himself a big drink of whiskey. He downed it and took the bottle and glass to a chair. He poured a second drink and gulped it angrily. Then he slumped back, staring