Read Online Lassiter Tough by Loren Zane Grey - Free Book Online

hand.
    â€œI’ll have another chance at Lassiter,” Krinkle said and gave a hitch at his gun belt.
    â€œThat son of a bitch is just plain lucky. Deverax an’ Bolin shootin’ at him in a two-by-four shack an’ by God, both of ’em missin’ the bastard. Then Lassiter puts a bullet in Deverax an’ kills Bolin.”
    â€œLuck’s like sand in an hourglass. It runs just so long.”
    â€œSomebody told you that. You never thought it up by yourself.”
    â€œI read it somewhere,” Krinkle admitted. It rankled that he’d had Lassiter right in his rifle sight. And in all the confusion of the vaquero gettingkilled and the yelling, he could have gotten away with it. But at the last minute Lassiter had turned his head. Talk about luck. Then Lassiter had given him a cold stare that chilled his backbone.
    â€œI’ll have to get Lassiter before he gets me,” Krinkle said after a minute. He swished some whiskey around in his glass, then drained it. “He knows damn well I was tryin’ for him at roundup.”
    â€œWell, for Chris’ sakes, next time make sure of him.”
    â€œMaybe you oughta make a try for him yourself, Brad,” Krinkle suggested slyly, but he was ready to duck in case Sanlee swung his hand at him, which he was known to do when his temper exploded. But today Sanlee accepted it with a tight grin.
    â€œIf it comes to the point where fellas I pay to do a job can’t get it done, then I’ll face up to the bastard. It’ll be the end of the legend of Lassiter. I’ll blow him outta his boots.”
    â€œYou can do it, Brad.”
    â€œI’m damn sure of that. But meanwhile . . .” Sanlee gave Krinkle a hard look.
    â€œYeah, yeah, I’ll figure somethin’ out.”
    â€œ
Do
it!” Sanlee snapped. “I pay good money for you an’ Doane to run risks, which you two didn’t earn the day you tried to corral him on the east road.”
    Memory of the suddenness of Lassiter’s attack that day caused Krinkle’s freckled face to redden. And to have had Isobel Hartney witness the humiliation was almost too much.
    â€œHey, Doug, you ol’ son of a bitch you!”
    Krinkle swung around at the sound of a familiar voice. “Cuz!” he cried, laughing, and he and the tall, scar-faced man gave each other the
abrazo.
It wasKrinkle’s cousin, Sam Busher. Krinkle broke out of the embrace of his kin and introduced him to Sanlee, who acknowledged it with a jerk of his head. He was eyeing Busher’s gun in a cut-down holster. Then he studied the scars on his round face. There were four scars, two of them deep.
    â€œSome gal use a knife when you had your britches off?” Sanlee asked thinly, referring to the scars.
    â€œNope,” Busher said. “I had a fair-sized poke on me. Four hombres held me while a fifth used his blade.”
    â€œDid they get your poke?”
    â€œYeah. But later I got them and the money they was carryin’.”
    â€œAll five of ’em?” Sanlee was interested and put his back to the bar, elbows hooked over the lip.
    â€œAll five,” Busher admitted modestly. “An’ what they had on ’em was a sight more’n they took off me.”
    â€œDid the law ever get after you for it?”
    â€œNot for that. A few other things, though.” Busher’s smile was hard. His clothing was worn and dusty as if he’d traveled hard and far. Sanlee matched his grin, then nudged Krinkle.
    â€œI figure you an’ your cuz just might handle Lassiter.”
    â€œPoint him out,” Busher said. “I’ll handle him alone.”
    Sanlee shook his head. “When it happens, I want Krinkle to face up to him. An’ I want you at Lassiter’s back. He’s fast an’ I don’t want any slip-ups. I saw him work once an’ I know.”
    â€œI rode down this way figurin’ maybe Doug could point me