chewed his mustache thoughtfully. "I like to see a young man with get-up about him, startin" his own spread, willin' to work."
Allen Ring waited. The man was building up to something; what, he knew not. It came then, carefully at first, yet shaping a loop as it drew near.
"Not much range here, of course"... Truman added. "You should have more graze. Ever been over in Cedar Basin? Or up along the East Verde bottom? Wonderful land up there, still some wild, but a country where a man could really do something with a few whiteface cattle."
"No, I haven't seen it"... Ring replied, "but I'm satisfied. I'm not land hungry. All I want is a small piece, an' this suits me fine."
Truman shifted in his saddle and looked uncomfortable.
"Fact is, son, you're upsettin' a lot of folks by bein' here. What you should do is to move."
"I'm sorry"... Ring said flatly. "I don't want to make enemies, but I won this place on a fourcard draw. Maybe I'm a fatalist, but somehow or other, I think I should stick here. No man's got a right to think he can draw four cards and win anythin', but I did, an' in a plenty rough game. I had everythin' I owned in that pot. Now I got the place."
The rancher sat his horse uneasily, and then he shook his head. "Son, you've sure got to move!
There's no trouble here now, and if you stay she's liable to open old sores, start more trouble than any of us can stop. Besides how did Ben Taylor get title to this place? Bayly had no love for him. I doubt if your title will stand up in court."
"As to that I don't know"... Ring persisted stubbornly.
"I have a deed that's legal enough, and I've registered that deed an' my brand along with it. I did find out that Bayly had no heirs. So I reckon I'll sit tight until somebody comes along with a better legal claim than mine."
Truman ran his hand over his brow. "Well, I guess I don't blame you much, son. Maybe I shouldn't have come over, but I know Ross Bilton and his crowd, and I reckon I wanted to save myself some trouble as well as you. Gail, she thinks you're a fine young man. In fact, you're the first man she's ever showed interest in since Whit left, and she was a youngster then. It was a sort of hero worship she had for him. I don't want trouble."
Allen Ring leaned on the shovel and looked up at the older man. "Truman"... He said, "are you sure you aren't buyin' trouble by tryin' to avoid it? Just what's your stake in this?"
The rancher sat very still, his face drawn and pale. Then he got down from his horse and sat on a rock. Removing his hat, he mopped his brow.
"Son"... He said slowly, "I reckon I got to trust you. You've heard of the Hazlitts. They are a hard, clannish bunch, men who lived by the gun most of their lives. Sam was murdered. Folks all know that when they find out who murdered him and why, there's goin' to be plenty of trouble around here. Plenty."
"Did you kill him?"
Truman jerked his head up. "No! No, you mustn't get that idea, but well, you know how small ranchers are. There was a sight of rustlin' them days, and the Hazlitts were the big outfit.
They lost cows."
"And some of them got your brand?" Ring asked shrewdly.
Truman nodded. "I reckon. Not so many, though. And not only me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not beggin' off the blame. Part of it is mine, all right, but I didn't get many. Eight or ten of us hereabouts slapped brands on Hazlitt stock and at least five of us have the biggest brands around here now, some as big almost as the Hazlitts."
Allen Ring studied the skyline thoughtfully. It was an old story and one often repeated in the West. When the war between the states ended, men came home to Texas and the southwest to find cattle running in thousands unbranded and unowned. The first man to slap on a brand was the owner, with no way he could be contested.
Many men grew rich with nothing more than a wide loop and a running iron. Then the unbranded cattle were gone, the ranches had settled into going concerns, and the great days of
Allen Ring waited. The man was building up to something; what, he knew not. It came then, carefully at first, yet shaping a loop as it drew near.
"Not much range here, of course"... Truman added. "You should have more graze. Ever been over in Cedar Basin? Or up along the East Verde bottom? Wonderful land up there, still some wild, but a country where a man could really do something with a few whiteface cattle."
"No, I haven't seen it"... Ring replied, "but I'm satisfied. I'm not land hungry. All I want is a small piece, an' this suits me fine."
Truman shifted in his saddle and looked uncomfortable.
"Fact is, son, you're upsettin' a lot of folks by bein' here. What you should do is to move."
"I'm sorry"... Ring said flatly. "I don't want to make enemies, but I won this place on a fourcard draw. Maybe I'm a fatalist, but somehow or other, I think I should stick here. No man's got a right to think he can draw four cards and win anythin', but I did, an' in a plenty rough game. I had everythin' I owned in that pot. Now I got the place."
The rancher sat his horse uneasily, and then he shook his head. "Son, you've sure got to move!
There's no trouble here now, and if you stay she's liable to open old sores, start more trouble than any of us can stop. Besides how did Ben Taylor get title to this place? Bayly had no love for him. I doubt if your title will stand up in court."
"As to that I don't know"... Ring persisted stubbornly.
"I have a deed that's legal enough, and I've registered that deed an' my brand along with it. I did find out that Bayly had no heirs. So I reckon I'll sit tight until somebody comes along with a better legal claim than mine."
Truman ran his hand over his brow. "Well, I guess I don't blame you much, son. Maybe I shouldn't have come over, but I know Ross Bilton and his crowd, and I reckon I wanted to save myself some trouble as well as you. Gail, she thinks you're a fine young man. In fact, you're the first man she's ever showed interest in since Whit left, and she was a youngster then. It was a sort of hero worship she had for him. I don't want trouble."
Allen Ring leaned on the shovel and looked up at the older man. "Truman"... He said, "are you sure you aren't buyin' trouble by tryin' to avoid it? Just what's your stake in this?"
The rancher sat very still, his face drawn and pale. Then he got down from his horse and sat on a rock. Removing his hat, he mopped his brow.
"Son"... He said slowly, "I reckon I got to trust you. You've heard of the Hazlitts. They are a hard, clannish bunch, men who lived by the gun most of their lives. Sam was murdered. Folks all know that when they find out who murdered him and why, there's goin' to be plenty of trouble around here. Plenty."
"Did you kill him?"
Truman jerked his head up. "No! No, you mustn't get that idea, but well, you know how small ranchers are. There was a sight of rustlin' them days, and the Hazlitts were the big outfit.
They lost cows."
"And some of them got your brand?" Ring asked shrewdly.
Truman nodded. "I reckon. Not so many, though. And not only me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not beggin' off the blame. Part of it is mine, all right, but I didn't get many. Eight or ten of us hereabouts slapped brands on Hazlitt stock and at least five of us have the biggest brands around here now, some as big almost as the Hazlitts."
Allen Ring studied the skyline thoughtfully. It was an old story and one often repeated in the West. When the war between the states ended, men came home to Texas and the southwest to find cattle running in thousands unbranded and unowned. The first man to slap on a brand was the owner, with no way he could be contested.
Many men grew rich with nothing more than a wide loop and a running iron. Then the unbranded cattle were gone, the ranches had settled into going concerns, and the great days of
Similar Books
The Best of Galaxy’s Edge 2013-2014
Larry Niven, Nancy Kress, Mercedes Lackey, Ken Liu, Brad R. Torgersen, C. L. Moore, Tina Gower
