trust him."
"Your privilege, ma'am. Thing is, he can shoot, and we need shooters."
"You're very sure of that, aren't you?"
"Man can see a storm brewin' if he knows the country."
"You believe in people, don't you, Buchanan?"
"Some." He chewed on the sandwich. The lady had re covered quickly from the hanging of her husband.
"And you can be exasperating."
"Uh-huh," There would be trouble outside and trouble a side, no question about that. Amanda Day was not a woman to reserve opinions.
Raven came into the kitchen. She moved with light grace, but there was something about her, something not qu ite full-blooded Crow. He swallowed and spoke to her.
"Your people in the hills?"
"These are my people," she replied gravely . "Jenny Pieter ."
"But the Crows. Are they the peaceable tribe?"
"Ask Badger. He knows."
"Uh-huh." He finished the sandwich. The girl was as ret icent as most Indians, but she seemed utterly devoted to Pieter and Jenny Kovacs. There were good Indians and bad Indians and good white people and bad white people, and sometimes he thought there were more bad whites. He decided to forget about Raven for the time being. If she wanted to stay and take a chance on dying with the white people who had raised her, that was none of his business.
He went to the door and opened it, scanning the hori zon. The lush and lovely countryside lay fallow in the af ternoon sun. It was good land. It was the kind of place over which people fought.
The tall mule came into sight, running, the mountain man swaying with the rhythm. Buchanan closed the door behind him and went to meet Badger.
"Whoa, now." The deepset eyes peered down at Bu chanan. "You ken a black man name o' Coco Bean?"
"I do."
"Jackson, the stage driver, he give me word."
"Uh-huh?"
"Stage loaded with gunmen. Comin' in by the dozens."
"About Coco."
"Yeah. He's in the jail."
"Whatever for?"
"Could be 'cause he allowed as how you're his friend."
"It's that bad already? Any friend of mine is in trou ble?"
"Worse'n that. Weevil's jailed, too. They're plannin' on lynchin' the two of 'em."
Buchanan started for the corral and the big horse. Badger followed him.
"Nighttime," said the mountain man. "They allus do their foul deeds at night. Got to drink a lotta likker and all. Got to talk a lot, make theirselves believe."
"Right."
"Reckon we go in, eh?"
"I go in. Coco's my friend."
"Got to know the way. Let it get dark."
Buchanan hesitated. "You know a way?"
"Ridin' around, an old man like me, he gets to know."
"Just the two of us?"
"Mebbe."
"Trevor?"
"Mebbe. Two horses and the Britisher would give us a better outlook, sorta."
"Dynamite?"
"Jail ain't that hefty. Might hurt 'em. Your friend and Weevil is already beat bad."
"They beat Coco?"
"Did so, says Jackson."
Buchanan said, "Coco's a gentle soul. Nobody should hurt Coco."
"Don't git too mad," said Badger. " 'Tain't good fer what we're gonna do."
"A thick rope," said Buchanan.
"Yep. My idee exackly."
Trevor came from the house, curious. Buchanan told him the latest bad news.
Trevor said, "Oh my, yes. When do we start?"
They started at twilight. They led two horses and car ried a coil of heavy rope borrowed from Kovacs. They rode into the dark, going around the town behind Badger and the tireless big mule. They carried rifles and revolvers, and Trevor had a keen hunting knife from Sheffield in England, the best of steel.
There were few stars. Badger brought them by a devious path through heavy undergrowth, past the smelly town dump. They crossed behind the buildings facing the main street.
The noise from the Powder River and the Deuces Wild saloons was reaching a peak. Buchanan heard his name mentioned a half-dozen times. Curses were called down upon Trevor. Kovacs was not ignored, nor the Whelans.
Pollard was heard to yell, "We got pos'tive proof the Whelans burned out Trevor. They're all dogs. They got to be treated like dogs."
"Trevor messin' with Whelan's woman," roared Mor gan
"Your privilege, ma'am. Thing is, he can shoot, and we need shooters."
"You're very sure of that, aren't you?"
"Man can see a storm brewin' if he knows the country."
"You believe in people, don't you, Buchanan?"
"Some." He chewed on the sandwich. The lady had re covered quickly from the hanging of her husband.
"And you can be exasperating."
"Uh-huh," There would be trouble outside and trouble a side, no question about that. Amanda Day was not a woman to reserve opinions.
Raven came into the kitchen. She moved with light grace, but there was something about her, something not qu ite full-blooded Crow. He swallowed and spoke to her.
"Your people in the hills?"
"These are my people," she replied gravely . "Jenny Pieter ."
"But the Crows. Are they the peaceable tribe?"
"Ask Badger. He knows."
"Uh-huh." He finished the sandwich. The girl was as ret icent as most Indians, but she seemed utterly devoted to Pieter and Jenny Kovacs. There were good Indians and bad Indians and good white people and bad white people, and sometimes he thought there were more bad whites. He decided to forget about Raven for the time being. If she wanted to stay and take a chance on dying with the white people who had raised her, that was none of his business.
He went to the door and opened it, scanning the hori zon. The lush and lovely countryside lay fallow in the af ternoon sun. It was good land. It was the kind of place over which people fought.
The tall mule came into sight, running, the mountain man swaying with the rhythm. Buchanan closed the door behind him and went to meet Badger.
"Whoa, now." The deepset eyes peered down at Bu chanan. "You ken a black man name o' Coco Bean?"
"I do."
"Jackson, the stage driver, he give me word."
"Uh-huh?"
"Stage loaded with gunmen. Comin' in by the dozens."
"About Coco."
"Yeah. He's in the jail."
"Whatever for?"
"Could be 'cause he allowed as how you're his friend."
"It's that bad already? Any friend of mine is in trou ble?"
"Worse'n that. Weevil's jailed, too. They're plannin' on lynchin' the two of 'em."
Buchanan started for the corral and the big horse. Badger followed him.
"Nighttime," said the mountain man. "They allus do their foul deeds at night. Got to drink a lotta likker and all. Got to talk a lot, make theirselves believe."
"Right."
"Reckon we go in, eh?"
"I go in. Coco's my friend."
"Got to know the way. Let it get dark."
Buchanan hesitated. "You know a way?"
"Ridin' around, an old man like me, he gets to know."
"Just the two of us?"
"Mebbe."
"Trevor?"
"Mebbe. Two horses and the Britisher would give us a better outlook, sorta."
"Dynamite?"
"Jail ain't that hefty. Might hurt 'em. Your friend and Weevil is already beat bad."
"They beat Coco?"
"Did so, says Jackson."
Buchanan said, "Coco's a gentle soul. Nobody should hurt Coco."
"Don't git too mad," said Badger. " 'Tain't good fer what we're gonna do."
"A thick rope," said Buchanan.
"Yep. My idee exackly."
Trevor came from the house, curious. Buchanan told him the latest bad news.
Trevor said, "Oh my, yes. When do we start?"
They started at twilight. They led two horses and car ried a coil of heavy rope borrowed from Kovacs. They rode into the dark, going around the town behind Badger and the tireless big mule. They carried rifles and revolvers, and Trevor had a keen hunting knife from Sheffield in England, the best of steel.
There were few stars. Badger brought them by a devious path through heavy undergrowth, past the smelly town dump. They crossed behind the buildings facing the main street.
The noise from the Powder River and the Deuces Wild saloons was reaching a peak. Buchanan heard his name mentioned a half-dozen times. Curses were called down upon Trevor. Kovacs was not ignored, nor the Whelans.
Pollard was heard to yell, "We got pos'tive proof the Whelans burned out Trevor. They're all dogs. They got to be treated like dogs."
"Trevor messin' with Whelan's woman," roared Mor gan
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