Read Online Lone Star Ranger : A Ranger to Ride With (9781310568404) by James J. Griffin - Free Book Online

ma, pa, and brother were
killed. Place was stripped clean of cattle and anything valuable
then burned to the ground. The gun you were carryin’ was taken off
his dead brother.”
    “You can’t prove that.”
    “Oh, yes I can. First of all, it’s a Smith
and Wesson American cartridge revolver. There’s not many of those
in these parts.”
    “That doesn’t mean anythin’. There’s still
more than one of those in Texas.”
    “Mebbe that’s true. But the man you killed
was named Jonathan Stewart. He burned his initials into the grips
of that gun. That’s all the proof I need to tie you to his murder.
Or mebbe I’ll just let the kid take care of you. You’d like another
crack at him, wouldn’t you, Nate?”
    “I reckon I would, at that.”
    “I wouldn’t mind takin’ him out behind this
saloon, either,” Carl added.
    Sweat broke out on the man’s brow.
    “Now, hold on just a minute. I didn’t kill
anybody, and I sure didn’t attack this kid’s ranch. Sure, I’ll
admit to rustlin’, but I never took to killin’. I bought that gun.”
    “You got any way of provin’ that? And just
what is your name, anyway?”
    “It’s Hawkins. Bob Hawkins. I bought the gun
from an hombre who was with an outfit trailin’ a small herd of
longhorns southeast three-four days ago.”
    “My dad’s cattle,” Nate exclaimed. “Guess
that means the Rangers didn’t find ’em yet.”
    “Mebbe, mebbe not,” Jeb answered. “Men like
the ones who attacked your place hit fast, get rid of the stolen
beeves or horses quick as they can, then move on.”
    “But if one of ’em had Jonathan’s gun…”
    “I’ll admit it doesn’t look good,” Jeb
conceded. “Most likely they got away from the boys somehow. We’ll
find ’em, though. I promise you that. Hawkins,” he continued, “You
got a name for this hombre you supposedly bought the gun from? And
a description?”
    “I never met him before. Only have a first
name, Manny. Looks to be half-white, half-Mexican. Ridin’ with
eight other men. The one who appeared to be leadin’ the outfit was
a scary-lookin’ dude. Real skinny and pale complexioned, hair so
blonde it was almost white. Fancy dresser, too. Wore two matched
pearl-handled .45 Colt Armies. His eyes were a real pale blue, and
when he looked at you they’d freeze the blood right in your veins.
If’n I didn’t know better I’d swear he’s a ghost, or someone back
from the grave.”
    “And they let your bunch just ride straight
up to ’em? I’m findin’ that hard to swallow, Hawkins.”
    “They didn’t do that, no sir. We just
stumbled onto ’em, that’s all. They were headin’ south and we were
headin’ north. Came upon ’em in an arroyo the trail runs
through about forty miles southwest of here. Mort seemed to know
the leader, but he didn’t make any introductions. You know how it
is, Ranger. You don’t ask questions.”
    “All right, Hawkins. You can get up. Slow
and easy.”
    “You believe me, Ranger?”
    “I reckon. But you’re still facin’ a long
stretch behind bars for rustlin’. However, it looks like you won’t
hang, so as they say, no noose is good noose.”
    Carl and Marshal Holmes winced.
    “Ranger, you oughtta be gut-shot for that
joke,” Carl said.
    Dr. Mannion had arrived and examined the
shot men while Hawkins was being questioned.
    “What’s the verdict, doc?” Holmes asked.
    “Three of ’em are dead. One’s belly shot. I
can try to save him, but it’s not likely.” Mannion looked at Jeb
and Carl. “Looks like you two need treating also.”
    “They’re just scratches,” Jeb said.
    “Scratches which could become gangrenous and
lead to blood poisoning,” Mannion answered. “Come by my office just
so I can check you both out.”
    “All right,” Jeb said. “Soon as we get this
hombre behind bars where he belongs. Hawkins, let’s go.”
    Stevenson and his men had tied their horses
in front of the Dusty Trail. When Nate, following Jeb and his
prisoner,