Read Online Riding for the Brand (Ss) (1986) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Louis L'amour
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to get his hands on that book.
Four horses stood, heads down in the rain, saddles covered with slickers. He looked at them and saw they were of three different brands. The window of the Mazatzal was rain wet, yet standing at one side he glanced within.
The long room was crowded and smoky. Men lined the bar, feet on the brass rail. A dozen tables were crowded with cardplayers. Everyone seemed to have taken refuge here from the rain.
Picking out the Hazlitt boys, Allen saw them gathered together at the back end of the room.
Then he got Ross Bilton pegged. He was at a table playing cards, facing the door. Stan Brule was at this end of the bar, and Hagen was at a table against the wall, the three of them making three points of a flat triangle whose base was the door.
It was no accident. Bilton, then, expected trouble, and he was not looking toward the Hazlitts. Yet, on reflection, Ring could see the triangle could center fire from three directions on the Hazlitts as well. There was a man with his back to the door who sat in the game with Bilton.
And not far from Hagen, Roily Truman was at the bar.
Truman was toying with his drink, just killing time. Everybody seemed to be waiting for something.
Could it be he they waited upon? No, that was scarcely to be considered. They could not know he had found the book, although it was certain at least one man in the room knew, and possibly others. Maybe it was just the tension, the building up of feeling over his taking over of the place at Red Rock. Allen Ring carefully turned down the collar of his slicker and wiped his hands dry again.
He felt jumpy and could feel that dryness in his mouth that always came on him at times like this. He touched his gun butts and then stepped over and opened the door.
Everyone looked up or around at once. Ross Bilton held a card aloft, and his hand froze at the act of dealing, holding still for a full ten seconds while Ring closed the door. He surveyed the room again and saw Ross play the card and say something in an undertone to the man opposite him. The man turned his head slightly and it was Ben Taylor!
The gambler looked around, his face coldly curious, and for an instant their eyes met across the room, and then Allen Ring started toward him.
There was no other sound in the room, although they could all hear the unceasing roar of the rain of the roof. Ring saw something leap up in Taylor's eyes, and his own took on a sardonic glint.
"That was a good hand you dealt me down Texas way"... Ring said. "A good hand!" "You'd better draw more cards"... Taylor said.
"You're holdin' a small pair!"
Ring's eyes shifted as the man turned slightly.
It was the jingle of his spurs that drew his eyes, and there they were, the large rowelled California style spurs, not common here. He stopped beside Taylor so the man had to tilt his head back to look up. Ring was acutely conscious that he was now centered between the fire of Brule and Hagen. The Hazlitts looked on curiously, uncertain as to what was happening.
"Give it to me, Taylor"... Ring said quietly.
"Give it to me now."
There was ice in his voice, and Taylor, aware of the awkwardness of his position, got to his feet, inches away from Ring.
"I don't know what you're talking about"... He flared.
"No?"
Ring was standing with his feet apart a little, and his hands were breast high, one of them clutching the edge of his raincoat. He hooked with his left from that position, and the blow was too short, too sudden, and too fast for Ben Taylor. The crack of it on the angle of his jaw was audible, and then Ring's right came up in the gambler's solar plexus and the man's knees sagged.
Spinning him around, Ring ripped open his coat with a jerk that scattered buttons across the room. Then from an inside pocket he jerked the tally book.
He saw the Hazlitts start at the same instant! that Bilton sprang back from the chair, upsetting it.
"Get him"... Bilton roared. "Get him!"
Ring shoved Taylor hard into
Four horses stood, heads down in the rain, saddles covered with slickers. He looked at them and saw they were of three different brands. The window of the Mazatzal was rain wet, yet standing at one side he glanced within.
The long room was crowded and smoky. Men lined the bar, feet on the brass rail. A dozen tables were crowded with cardplayers. Everyone seemed to have taken refuge here from the rain.
Picking out the Hazlitt boys, Allen saw them gathered together at the back end of the room.
Then he got Ross Bilton pegged. He was at a table playing cards, facing the door. Stan Brule was at this end of the bar, and Hagen was at a table against the wall, the three of them making three points of a flat triangle whose base was the door.
It was no accident. Bilton, then, expected trouble, and he was not looking toward the Hazlitts. Yet, on reflection, Ring could see the triangle could center fire from three directions on the Hazlitts as well. There was a man with his back to the door who sat in the game with Bilton.
And not far from Hagen, Roily Truman was at the bar.
Truman was toying with his drink, just killing time. Everybody seemed to be waiting for something.
Could it be he they waited upon? No, that was scarcely to be considered. They could not know he had found the book, although it was certain at least one man in the room knew, and possibly others. Maybe it was just the tension, the building up of feeling over his taking over of the place at Red Rock. Allen Ring carefully turned down the collar of his slicker and wiped his hands dry again.
He felt jumpy and could feel that dryness in his mouth that always came on him at times like this. He touched his gun butts and then stepped over and opened the door.
Everyone looked up or around at once. Ross Bilton held a card aloft, and his hand froze at the act of dealing, holding still for a full ten seconds while Ring closed the door. He surveyed the room again and saw Ross play the card and say something in an undertone to the man opposite him. The man turned his head slightly and it was Ben Taylor!
The gambler looked around, his face coldly curious, and for an instant their eyes met across the room, and then Allen Ring started toward him.
There was no other sound in the room, although they could all hear the unceasing roar of the rain of the roof. Ring saw something leap up in Taylor's eyes, and his own took on a sardonic glint.
"That was a good hand you dealt me down Texas way"... Ring said. "A good hand!" "You'd better draw more cards"... Taylor said.
"You're holdin' a small pair!"
Ring's eyes shifted as the man turned slightly.
It was the jingle of his spurs that drew his eyes, and there they were, the large rowelled California style spurs, not common here. He stopped beside Taylor so the man had to tilt his head back to look up. Ring was acutely conscious that he was now centered between the fire of Brule and Hagen. The Hazlitts looked on curiously, uncertain as to what was happening.
"Give it to me, Taylor"... Ring said quietly.
"Give it to me now."
There was ice in his voice, and Taylor, aware of the awkwardness of his position, got to his feet, inches away from Ring.
"I don't know what you're talking about"... He flared.
"No?"
Ring was standing with his feet apart a little, and his hands were breast high, one of them clutching the edge of his raincoat. He hooked with his left from that position, and the blow was too short, too sudden, and too fast for Ben Taylor. The crack of it on the angle of his jaw was audible, and then Ring's right came up in the gambler's solar plexus and the man's knees sagged.
Spinning him around, Ring ripped open his coat with a jerk that scattered buttons across the room. Then from an inside pocket he jerked the tally book.
He saw the Hazlitts start at the same instant! that Bilton sprang back from the chair, upsetting it.
"Get him"... Bilton roared. "Get him!"
Ring shoved Taylor hard into
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