Read Online The Sons of Grady Rourke by Douglas Savage - Free Book Online Page A

to ride with us.”
    Patrick looked sideways toward his clear-eyed brother. Sean blinked and looked down at the table.
    â€œDon’t think so, Captain. I’m running our father’s ranch until the lawyers get back and our other brother gets here. Then we’ll settle up and get things back to normal.” Patrick kept looking at Sean who did not look up. He sat on Sean’s good side and could not see his shattered face.
    â€œYou had business with the Englishman.” Evans did not ask a question.
    Patrick wondered who had watched him.
    â€œYes. Banking”
    â€œOh. The Englishman and McSween think they can put the House under. What do you think?”
    â€œI think it’s none of my business, really.” Patrick was not about to be drawn further into the village’s civil war.
    â€œThat’s my brother,” Sean said quickly. “Keeping his nose to his own affairs.”
    â€œAdmirable quality,” Jesse Evans nodded. “Understand Chisum is grazing on your daddy’s land?”
    â€œSeems so.”
    â€œChisum paying you rent?”
    â€œNot directly. It goes into our father’s account at the bank. For a while yet.”
    â€œTunstall’s bank, you mean. Tunstall and Chisum.”
    â€œThere ain’t no other bank in town,” Patrick shrugged. “There weren’t no choice.”
    â€œGuess not. If Tunstall and the lawyers had their way, we’d all owe our souls to their bank.” The older man in the clean shirt beside Jesse Evans spoke. “I’m Jimmy Dolan.”
    Patrick looked Dolan in the eye. He wanted to see the rest of the story when it came at him. Dolan spoke without an Irish accent.
    â€œThe Englishman and McSween are swindlers and thieves. The ranchers here abouts have to trade their government script for real money at their bank. Tunstall gives them two-thirds of the face value. The exchange rate is thievery, pure and simple. And townsfolk who farm or want to buy land have to get credit at Tunstall and Chisum’s private little bank. When they can’t make the payments, the bank gets their land. They’re breaking the ranchers’ backs. You best not have nothing to do with them people.”
    Dolan was visibly angry. His words hissed out through clenched teeth. Patrick listened politely.
    â€œAnd that there Britisher is buying up land what ain’t legal for someone what ain’t a real citizen.”
    â€œHow’s that?” Patrick leaned slightly toward Dolan.
    â€œYour daddy and most of the folks around here bought their spreads by the new Desert Lands Act. Passed about a year ago. Folks can lay temporary claim to a whole section of U.S. Government land for twenty-five cents an acre if they promise to work it and irrigate it for three years. After that, they can buy clear title for another dollar per acre. But it’s only open to real Americans, not Englishmen. Tunstall had local people buy up over three-thousand eight-hundred acres in their names and then sell it to him. It’s thievery and it ain’t even American thievery! You keep clear of them Protestants. The House is Irish: Murphy started it and I bought him out. I come to this country back in ’48 when I was a boy. The potato famine in ’45 is what sent the lot of us over. Joined Mr. Lincoln’s army when I was only fifteen. Served till ’69. At least we’re citizens now. Not like the Englishman and his Protestants. You hear me?”
    â€œYes,” Patrick nodded. He glanced sideways toward Sean. “But it’s too late. I’m thinking of going to work for Chisum. I ain’t got help for Pa’s ranch and I ain’t got money to keep it going much longer. If Chisum wants to rent grazing rights, I got to sell it to him.” When Sean looked away, Patrick turned back toward James Dolan. “I ain’t got a choice. Leastwise not till Liam comes home.”
    The owner of the House