the Rider Of Lost Creek (1976) by Louis - Kilkenny 02 L'amour
Authors: Louis - Kilkenny 02 L'amour
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young Davis said he'd seen one of them with Bert Polti."
"Polti? I don't figure that."
They had entered the ranch house and stopped at an inner door. Weston rapped. At a summons, he opened it.
Big Webb Steele was sitting tipped back in his chair on the other side of a big table. His shirt was open two top buttons, showing a massive, hairy chest. And his hard, level eyes seemed to pierce Lance through and through. On his right, in a big easy chair, was Tana. As she saw Lance she came to her feet, her face taut with anger.
A tall, handsome man in a plain black suit was there also, a man with blue-gray eyes and a neatly trimmed blond mustache.
"You ... Tana burst out. "You have the nerve to come here?"
Lance smiled, and he had a pleasant, friendly smile. "I didn't reckon you carried your whip in the house, ma'am. Or do you carry it everywhere?"
"From what I hear, young man, you've taken a high hand with my daughter."... Steele glanced from Tana to Lance and back. "What happened between you two?"
"She seemed to be trying to use the main street for a race track, and when I got in the way she was going to horsewhip me. I sort of explained to her it wasn't exactly lady-like."
Steele chuckled. "Young man, you're in trouble. I will say you've got nerve. But I let Tana fight her own battles, so let heaven have mercy on your soul!"
Lance shook his head gravely. "You mentioned me taking a high hand with your daughter, but if my hand had been applied where it should have been, it might have done a lot more good."
Webb Steele's eyes twinkled. "Young man, I'd give a hundred head of cattle just to look at the man who could do that!"
'Tather ... Tana protested. "This man insulted me!"
"If you don't mind, ma'am ... Lance suggested, "we can continue this discussion another time. I've come to see your father on business."
Tana's face flushed and she started to speak but Lance had turned his shoulder to her. He took a seat "Mr. Steele ... He said, ' I've come in the role of peacemaker. You people here are edging yourselves into a three-cornered war that's going to cost plenty in cattle, time, and men, to say nothing of cut wire and gunpowder. I'd like to set up a meeting between you, Chet Lord and Mort Davis."
"Davis"..."... Steele let the legs of his chair down hard. "That no-account nester will make no talk with me! Hell get of! that claim or we'll run him off! You tell that damn highbinder to take his stock an" get!"
"He's caused trouble here."... The stranger with the blond mustache interposed. "Cutting fences and that sort of thing. He's a menace to the range."... Then he added, "I'm Victor Bonhain, from New York City."
Lance merely glanced at him, then turned his attention back to Steele. "You have the reputation of being a square shooter, Steele. You came west with some damn good men, and you've made a place for yourself.
Well, so did Mort Davis, only he went further west than you. He went on to Santa Fe and Salt Lake City, and he helped open this country up. Now he finds a nice piece of land and settles on it ... What's so wrong about that?
And isn't that what you did?"
Lance shifted his chair a little, then went on. "He fought Comanches and Apaches. He built a place. He cleaned out the water holes and did things in Lost Creek you'd never have done. And there'd have been no trouble between you if this fencing hadn't started.
"It seems to me that Mort is just as entitled to stay on his land as you are on yours."
Lance leaned forward. "Steele, I haven't been in this neck of the woods but a few days, but it takes no longer than that to see there's a lot going on here that I doubt either you or Chet Lord knows anything about.
"Mort Davis was burned out tonight, and by orders from somebody. And I don't believe those orders came from either you or Lord.
"I want Mort Davis let alone, and if you and Lord are so damn hot for a fight, then have at it, but leave Mort out. Or ... Lance's tone softened a little, "I will have to
"Polti? I don't figure that."
They had entered the ranch house and stopped at an inner door. Weston rapped. At a summons, he opened it.
Big Webb Steele was sitting tipped back in his chair on the other side of a big table. His shirt was open two top buttons, showing a massive, hairy chest. And his hard, level eyes seemed to pierce Lance through and through. On his right, in a big easy chair, was Tana. As she saw Lance she came to her feet, her face taut with anger.
A tall, handsome man in a plain black suit was there also, a man with blue-gray eyes and a neatly trimmed blond mustache.
"You ... Tana burst out. "You have the nerve to come here?"
Lance smiled, and he had a pleasant, friendly smile. "I didn't reckon you carried your whip in the house, ma'am. Or do you carry it everywhere?"
"From what I hear, young man, you've taken a high hand with my daughter."... Steele glanced from Tana to Lance and back. "What happened between you two?"
"She seemed to be trying to use the main street for a race track, and when I got in the way she was going to horsewhip me. I sort of explained to her it wasn't exactly lady-like."
Steele chuckled. "Young man, you're in trouble. I will say you've got nerve. But I let Tana fight her own battles, so let heaven have mercy on your soul!"
Lance shook his head gravely. "You mentioned me taking a high hand with your daughter, but if my hand had been applied where it should have been, it might have done a lot more good."
Webb Steele's eyes twinkled. "Young man, I'd give a hundred head of cattle just to look at the man who could do that!"
'Tather ... Tana protested. "This man insulted me!"
"If you don't mind, ma'am ... Lance suggested, "we can continue this discussion another time. I've come to see your father on business."
Tana's face flushed and she started to speak but Lance had turned his shoulder to her. He took a seat "Mr. Steele ... He said, ' I've come in the role of peacemaker. You people here are edging yourselves into a three-cornered war that's going to cost plenty in cattle, time, and men, to say nothing of cut wire and gunpowder. I'd like to set up a meeting between you, Chet Lord and Mort Davis."
"Davis"..."... Steele let the legs of his chair down hard. "That no-account nester will make no talk with me! Hell get of! that claim or we'll run him off! You tell that damn highbinder to take his stock an" get!"
"He's caused trouble here."... The stranger with the blond mustache interposed. "Cutting fences and that sort of thing. He's a menace to the range."... Then he added, "I'm Victor Bonhain, from New York City."
Lance merely glanced at him, then turned his attention back to Steele. "You have the reputation of being a square shooter, Steele. You came west with some damn good men, and you've made a place for yourself.
Well, so did Mort Davis, only he went further west than you. He went on to Santa Fe and Salt Lake City, and he helped open this country up. Now he finds a nice piece of land and settles on it ... What's so wrong about that?
And isn't that what you did?"
Lance shifted his chair a little, then went on. "He fought Comanches and Apaches. He built a place. He cleaned out the water holes and did things in Lost Creek you'd never have done. And there'd have been no trouble between you if this fencing hadn't started.
"It seems to me that Mort is just as entitled to stay on his land as you are on yours."
Lance leaned forward. "Steele, I haven't been in this neck of the woods but a few days, but it takes no longer than that to see there's a lot going on here that I doubt either you or Chet Lord knows anything about.
"Mort Davis was burned out tonight, and by orders from somebody. And I don't believe those orders came from either you or Lord.
"I want Mort Davis let alone, and if you and Lord are so damn hot for a fight, then have at it, but leave Mort out. Or ... Lance's tone softened a little, "I will have to
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