the Mountain Valley War (1978) by Louis - Kilkenny 03 L'amour
Authors: Louis - Kilkenny 03 L'amour
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making few comments. He was tired and stiff. One eye was black and badly swollen. He had four stitches taken in a cut on his cheekbone, and his lips and one ear was puffed and red. He was in no mood for conversation, yet it had to be. Looking at those around the table, he could not but wonder how many would be present when the time came to celebrate a victory, if there was to be one.
More than any of the others, he knew what lay ahead. The years since boyhood had dealt hardly with him, and on more than one occasion he had seen such troubles start, and so far he had lived to see them end. Many of those with whom he had worked and fought had not survived.
The five Hatfields were there. O'Hara and Bartram. The big Irishman was a game man who among other things had been a policeman in New York. Bartram was young, keen, and a man who had grown up, as most of them had, hunting meat for the table. He was excited by what lay ahead, and was ready for anything and everything.
Smithers was quiet and middle-aged, the oldest of them but for Parson himself. He was a small man, precise in his thinking and planning, avoiding trouble yet seemingly fearless. He was the best farmer of the lot, and the best businessman.
Two more rode in while they were sitting at breakfast. Jackson Hight was a wild-horse hunter, a former cowhand and buffalo hunter, and Steve Runyon a former miner.
Parson Hatfield cleared his throat. "This here meetin' better come to order. Them Haleses ain't about to wait until we uns get organized. There's a few things come first. We got to pick us a leader, and we got to find some way to get grub and ammunition."
Trent spoke up. "Parson? If I can put in a word. I believe it would be safer if we all came here, bringing what supplies and horses we can."
"And leave our places?" Smithers objected. "Why, they'd burn us out! They'd ruin our crops and run off our stock!"
"He's right," O'Hara agreed. "If we aren't there to defend them, they won't last long. That's playing right into their hands."
"Which of you feels qualified to defend himself against twenty gunmen? I don't feel I could. There isn't a place among yours where one man could stand off five men, let alone several times that many. You can only shoot out of one window at a time. They'll get around you, and you'd be dead within minutes.
"There's but two places among us that can be defended with any chance of winning. Mine and the Hatfields', and mine won't handle all the people we've got. Hatfield has more supplies on hand, he's got a place that can be defended, and there's already five men on the spot.
"If we get burned out, we can rebuild. Hell, there isn't a man here who hasn't already built more than once. But if you're dead, you aren't going to build anything."
"Strikes me as sensible," Hight said. "It's the old argument, 'united we stand, divided we fall,' so I move we all come together here."
"You may be right," O'Hara agreed. "Dick Moffit didn't do very well alone."
"That means I'll lose my barn!" Smithers protested.
Nobody said anything, and after a minute he said, "Well, I can always build a new one, even if it takes ten years."
"We will all help," Bartram replied.
"How about a leader?" Smithers asked. "How about you, Parson?"
"No, I'm obliged, but I ain't your man. I move we choose Trent here."
There was a moment of silence, and then O'Hara said, "I'll second that motion. After all, he whipped Hale."
Runyon shook his head. "No offense, Trent, but I don't know you. Fistfighting is one thing, handling a fight like this will be another. I've got no objections to Trent, but after all, Parson, you've done a lot of feudin'."
"That I have," Hatfield replied, "but let me say this here. Onct I was a sharpshooter and I rode with Jeb Stuart. One time ol' Jeb he sent us off on a special detail, and we'd been sent like that often, because we always got the job done. Well, this last time we got our socks whupped off us by a youngster Union officer. He only
More than any of the others, he knew what lay ahead. The years since boyhood had dealt hardly with him, and on more than one occasion he had seen such troubles start, and so far he had lived to see them end. Many of those with whom he had worked and fought had not survived.
The five Hatfields were there. O'Hara and Bartram. The big Irishman was a game man who among other things had been a policeman in New York. Bartram was young, keen, and a man who had grown up, as most of them had, hunting meat for the table. He was excited by what lay ahead, and was ready for anything and everything.
Smithers was quiet and middle-aged, the oldest of them but for Parson himself. He was a small man, precise in his thinking and planning, avoiding trouble yet seemingly fearless. He was the best farmer of the lot, and the best businessman.
Two more rode in while they were sitting at breakfast. Jackson Hight was a wild-horse hunter, a former cowhand and buffalo hunter, and Steve Runyon a former miner.
Parson Hatfield cleared his throat. "This here meetin' better come to order. Them Haleses ain't about to wait until we uns get organized. There's a few things come first. We got to pick us a leader, and we got to find some way to get grub and ammunition."
Trent spoke up. "Parson? If I can put in a word. I believe it would be safer if we all came here, bringing what supplies and horses we can."
"And leave our places?" Smithers objected. "Why, they'd burn us out! They'd ruin our crops and run off our stock!"
"He's right," O'Hara agreed. "If we aren't there to defend them, they won't last long. That's playing right into their hands."
"Which of you feels qualified to defend himself against twenty gunmen? I don't feel I could. There isn't a place among yours where one man could stand off five men, let alone several times that many. You can only shoot out of one window at a time. They'll get around you, and you'd be dead within minutes.
"There's but two places among us that can be defended with any chance of winning. Mine and the Hatfields', and mine won't handle all the people we've got. Hatfield has more supplies on hand, he's got a place that can be defended, and there's already five men on the spot.
"If we get burned out, we can rebuild. Hell, there isn't a man here who hasn't already built more than once. But if you're dead, you aren't going to build anything."
"Strikes me as sensible," Hight said. "It's the old argument, 'united we stand, divided we fall,' so I move we all come together here."
"You may be right," O'Hara agreed. "Dick Moffit didn't do very well alone."
"That means I'll lose my barn!" Smithers protested.
Nobody said anything, and after a minute he said, "Well, I can always build a new one, even if it takes ten years."
"We will all help," Bartram replied.
"How about a leader?" Smithers asked. "How about you, Parson?"
"No, I'm obliged, but I ain't your man. I move we choose Trent here."
There was a moment of silence, and then O'Hara said, "I'll second that motion. After all, he whipped Hale."
Runyon shook his head. "No offense, Trent, but I don't know you. Fistfighting is one thing, handling a fight like this will be another. I've got no objections to Trent, but after all, Parson, you've done a lot of feudin'."
"That I have," Hatfield replied, "but let me say this here. Onct I was a sharpshooter and I rode with Jeb Stuart. One time ol' Jeb he sent us off on a special detail, and we'd been sent like that often, because we always got the job done. Well, this last time we got our socks whupped off us by a youngster Union officer. He only
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