Read Online Guns of the Canyonlands by Ralph Compton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ralph Compton
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rustling his stock.
Lorena, who had been listening intently as she gently bathed Tyree’s wounds with warm water then bound them up with a bandage, gave an audible gasp at the mention of Laytham’s name.
“That doesn’t sound like the Quirt Laytham I know,” she said. “For heaven’s sake, Owen, why would Quirt accuse you of rustling his cattle and then attack you?”
“He wants my land, Lorena,” Fowler said evenly. “His cows are already grazing in my canyon.”
Lorena’s chin lifted in a stubborn tilt. “Quirt told me about that. He said he mixed his stuff in with yours and that he planned to give you a share of the profits when you got out of jail. He was doing you a favor, Owen. Can’t you see that?”
“And was Laytham doing me a favor when he told Sheriff Tobin’s deputies to hang me?” Tyree asked, annoyance starting to niggle at him. Lorena seemed so sure of Laytham’s innocence, and that burned him.
“That was obviously a case of mistaken identity,” the girl flared in return. “The canyonlands are infested with rustlers. Quirt is trying to run them clean out of the country. Just ask Pa. He’s lost cattle and he’s losing more by the day.”
Boyd nodded. “Can’t argue with that, Chance. I don’t quite know how many head I’ve lost, but it’s a passel. That’s why I graze my Hereford bull close to the cabin.”
“Lorena,” Tyree said, keeping his voice level despite his growing irritation, “Laytham knew who he was shooting at along Hatch Wash. He called Owen and me by name.”
The girl bit her lip, then shook her head defiantly. “I’ll ask Quirt about this. I know there’s been some kind of terrible misunderstanding.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “However, cattle are being stolen from the range and you are a stranger in these parts, Chance. And . . .”
Lorena swallowed hard, as if what she was about to say was not coming easy. “Owen, you’ve known me since I was a little girl in pigtails, but you are a convicted murderer.” She waved her hands helplessly. “Oh, I’m messing this up completely, aren’t I? But what I’m trying to say is that you can understand how Quirt might have jumped to certain conclusions, wrong as they might be.”
Tyree lifted his eyes to Lorena’s flushed face. The cabin was very quiet, the only movement a tiny silver moth that fluttered around the oil lamp above the table.
The girl was obviously sweet on Laytham and was determined to defend him to the bitter end. Did that mean she was in love with him? Did I, Tyree thought bitterly, jump to my own wrong conclusion that I could make her my wife?
Boyd’s voice, gently chiding, cut across Tyree’s thoughts. “Lorena, I’ve told you often that I didn’t think Owen was capable of murder. I believe someone else killed and robbed John Kent.”
For a few moments Lorena stood still, her eyes revealing a knot of different emotions. Finally she walked swiftly across the cabin and threw her arms around Fowler’s neck. “Owen, I know you’re not a killer,” she said. “You’re a gentle, loving man. When I was young, I used to marvel at how animals came to you, especially when they were sick or injured. Animals have an instinct about people—they can sense goodness in them, just as I have always sensed the goodness in you.”
She kissed Fowler on the cheek, then stepped back and brushed away a stray lock of hair that had tumbled onto her forehead. “It’s just . . . just that when I heard you and Chance say all those terrible things about Quirt I got quite angry.” Her eyes moved from Fowler to Tyree. “I can’t explain it, but when I’m with him, I also sense a goodness in Quirt.”
Tyree thought about Laytham, with his handsome, brutal face, his expensive clothes and his cattle and blood horses. He was a suitor of wealth and power, the kind to turn any young woman’s head. Lorena had not yet learned that it’s fine to judge a wild-flower or a butterfly by its
Lorena, who had been listening intently as she gently bathed Tyree’s wounds with warm water then bound them up with a bandage, gave an audible gasp at the mention of Laytham’s name.
“That doesn’t sound like the Quirt Laytham I know,” she said. “For heaven’s sake, Owen, why would Quirt accuse you of rustling his cattle and then attack you?”
“He wants my land, Lorena,” Fowler said evenly. “His cows are already grazing in my canyon.”
Lorena’s chin lifted in a stubborn tilt. “Quirt told me about that. He said he mixed his stuff in with yours and that he planned to give you a share of the profits when you got out of jail. He was doing you a favor, Owen. Can’t you see that?”
“And was Laytham doing me a favor when he told Sheriff Tobin’s deputies to hang me?” Tyree asked, annoyance starting to niggle at him. Lorena seemed so sure of Laytham’s innocence, and that burned him.
“That was obviously a case of mistaken identity,” the girl flared in return. “The canyonlands are infested with rustlers. Quirt is trying to run them clean out of the country. Just ask Pa. He’s lost cattle and he’s losing more by the day.”
Boyd nodded. “Can’t argue with that, Chance. I don’t quite know how many head I’ve lost, but it’s a passel. That’s why I graze my Hereford bull close to the cabin.”
“Lorena,” Tyree said, keeping his voice level despite his growing irritation, “Laytham knew who he was shooting at along Hatch Wash. He called Owen and me by name.”
The girl bit her lip, then shook her head defiantly. “I’ll ask Quirt about this. I know there’s been some kind of terrible misunderstanding.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “However, cattle are being stolen from the range and you are a stranger in these parts, Chance. And . . .”
Lorena swallowed hard, as if what she was about to say was not coming easy. “Owen, you’ve known me since I was a little girl in pigtails, but you are a convicted murderer.” She waved her hands helplessly. “Oh, I’m messing this up completely, aren’t I? But what I’m trying to say is that you can understand how Quirt might have jumped to certain conclusions, wrong as they might be.”
Tyree lifted his eyes to Lorena’s flushed face. The cabin was very quiet, the only movement a tiny silver moth that fluttered around the oil lamp above the table.
The girl was obviously sweet on Laytham and was determined to defend him to the bitter end. Did that mean she was in love with him? Did I, Tyree thought bitterly, jump to my own wrong conclusion that I could make her my wife?
Boyd’s voice, gently chiding, cut across Tyree’s thoughts. “Lorena, I’ve told you often that I didn’t think Owen was capable of murder. I believe someone else killed and robbed John Kent.”
For a few moments Lorena stood still, her eyes revealing a knot of different emotions. Finally she walked swiftly across the cabin and threw her arms around Fowler’s neck. “Owen, I know you’re not a killer,” she said. “You’re a gentle, loving man. When I was young, I used to marvel at how animals came to you, especially when they were sick or injured. Animals have an instinct about people—they can sense goodness in them, just as I have always sensed the goodness in you.”
She kissed Fowler on the cheek, then stepped back and brushed away a stray lock of hair that had tumbled onto her forehead. “It’s just . . . just that when I heard you and Chance say all those terrible things about Quirt I got quite angry.” Her eyes moved from Fowler to Tyree. “I can’t explain it, but when I’m with him, I also sense a goodness in Quirt.”
Tyree thought about Laytham, with his handsome, brutal face, his expensive clothes and his cattle and blood horses. He was a suitor of wealth and power, the kind to turn any young woman’s head. Lorena had not yet learned that it’s fine to judge a wild-flower or a butterfly by its
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