killer didn’t get the job done.
He’d had a session right away with Bill Grace and bitterly discovered what had happened to Tularosa when he’d been after that girl. But Tularosa had got free, been turned loose on the town again, and Frank apparently hadn’t yet caught up with him when Kimberland had heard the guns pound over at Gurden’s and seen the two punchers lugging Brackley away. So that part of it was settled.
Stepping back from the curtained window Kimberland yawned and stretched contentedly. It was too bad about Brackley but a man had to look out for himself in this world and he had given the fool an out by offering to buy the damned spread. Brackley had no one to blame but his own bull-headedness. That road represented progress and no one had the right to stand in the way of a country’s development. He guessed the rest of those Benchers would understand that now. And before anyone got wise to what was brewing he, W. T. would have that right-of-way in his pocket.
This was why he wanted the Bench, not for the grass — though he could use that, too. But the road came first, that was where his money was. When the Company got their preliminary report, a survey crew would be sent into the region and the value of land would go up like Apache smoke. Which was why he’d held back his beef so long, not for the rain but for how it would look to the rest of this country when Bar 40 scrapped boundaries and moved onto the Bench.
That high shelf would be the obvious choice of any survey. There was no other practical place for a roadbed. It wasn’t only that he had to protect his investment; that Bench ran for twenty miles through this country and control of it would net a handsome profit to the man who could deliver it. Tomorrow Bar 40 would start moving cattle.
He heard the creak of the stairs and, guessing this would be Bill Grace again, went over and quietly opened the hall door. His foreman slipped in, and said as soon as the door was shut: “Gurden’s bought into this!”
Kimberland grinned. “Joke — ha ha.”
“It’s no joke,” Grace said.
“How could he buy in when he don’t even know — ”
“He knows, all right. First thing your star-packer done when he went over there was ask what Brackley was doin’ in Chip’s place. Gurden wiped off his mouth an’ said he’d come for a loan which he had made him —
secured by a lien against Brackley’s stock and range
.”
“Son of a bitch!”
“The point,” Grace said, “is what do we do about it? I told you when we took over Chip’s ranch that feller was goin’ to lay for you. You better let me shoot him.”
If it was just Gurden, Kimberland reflected, it might be better to let him get away with this. But it wasn’t just Gurden. Bar 40, on the climb, had tramped roughshod over everyone. The slightest evidence of weakness would bring the whole bunch swarming, and Gurden wouldn’t quit with this. He had too long a memory.
“I’ve got to think,” Kimberland said.
“You better think fast if we’re pushin’ those cattle over there in the morning.”
“How did Frank take it? I mean about Brackley’s killing and that plaster of Gurden’s.”
“Acted damn suspicious.”
“Good,” Kimberland nodded. “Now has Chip really got a lien?”
“He’ll damn well produce one — ”
“Keep your voice down,” Kimberland grumbled. “We don’t want my girl getting up to come in here.”
“She wouldn’t know a jughandle from a tomato can,” Grace said. “All she’s got any time for is — ” He let go of that line when he caught Kimberland’s look. Abruptly then they were both standing tense, faces whipped toward the window. There was a far sound of shots, a sullen rumble like thunder with a shout lifting through it, thinly soaring, suddenly gone. The racket, as Kimberland threw up the window, could mean but one thing to any listening cowman.
“By God,” Grace cried, “it’s that trail herd!”
Louder, nearer, laced
He’d had a session right away with Bill Grace and bitterly discovered what had happened to Tularosa when he’d been after that girl. But Tularosa had got free, been turned loose on the town again, and Frank apparently hadn’t yet caught up with him when Kimberland had heard the guns pound over at Gurden’s and seen the two punchers lugging Brackley away. So that part of it was settled.
Stepping back from the curtained window Kimberland yawned and stretched contentedly. It was too bad about Brackley but a man had to look out for himself in this world and he had given the fool an out by offering to buy the damned spread. Brackley had no one to blame but his own bull-headedness. That road represented progress and no one had the right to stand in the way of a country’s development. He guessed the rest of those Benchers would understand that now. And before anyone got wise to what was brewing he, W. T. would have that right-of-way in his pocket.
This was why he wanted the Bench, not for the grass — though he could use that, too. But the road came first, that was where his money was. When the Company got their preliminary report, a survey crew would be sent into the region and the value of land would go up like Apache smoke. Which was why he’d held back his beef so long, not for the rain but for how it would look to the rest of this country when Bar 40 scrapped boundaries and moved onto the Bench.
That high shelf would be the obvious choice of any survey. There was no other practical place for a roadbed. It wasn’t only that he had to protect his investment; that Bench ran for twenty miles through this country and control of it would net a handsome profit to the man who could deliver it. Tomorrow Bar 40 would start moving cattle.
He heard the creak of the stairs and, guessing this would be Bill Grace again, went over and quietly opened the hall door. His foreman slipped in, and said as soon as the door was shut: “Gurden’s bought into this!”
Kimberland grinned. “Joke — ha ha.”
“It’s no joke,” Grace said.
“How could he buy in when he don’t even know — ”
“He knows, all right. First thing your star-packer done when he went over there was ask what Brackley was doin’ in Chip’s place. Gurden wiped off his mouth an’ said he’d come for a loan which he had made him —
secured by a lien against Brackley’s stock and range
.”
“Son of a bitch!”
“The point,” Grace said, “is what do we do about it? I told you when we took over Chip’s ranch that feller was goin’ to lay for you. You better let me shoot him.”
If it was just Gurden, Kimberland reflected, it might be better to let him get away with this. But it wasn’t just Gurden. Bar 40, on the climb, had tramped roughshod over everyone. The slightest evidence of weakness would bring the whole bunch swarming, and Gurden wouldn’t quit with this. He had too long a memory.
“I’ve got to think,” Kimberland said.
“You better think fast if we’re pushin’ those cattle over there in the morning.”
“How did Frank take it? I mean about Brackley’s killing and that plaster of Gurden’s.”
“Acted damn suspicious.”
“Good,” Kimberland nodded. “Now has Chip really got a lien?”
“He’ll damn well produce one — ”
“Keep your voice down,” Kimberland grumbled. “We don’t want my girl getting up to come in here.”
“She wouldn’t know a jughandle from a tomato can,” Grace said. “All she’s got any time for is — ” He let go of that line when he caught Kimberland’s look. Abruptly then they were both standing tense, faces whipped toward the window. There was a far sound of shots, a sullen rumble like thunder with a shout lifting through it, thinly soaring, suddenly gone. The racket, as Kimberland threw up the window, could mean but one thing to any listening cowman.
“By God,” Grace cried, “it’s that trail herd!”
Louder, nearer, laced
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