at him.
"Do you ride for Senor Pogue or Senor Reynolds?" he asked, warily.
"Only for myself," Canavan replied. "What's the matter? The town seems too quiet."
"Si, Senor. There has been a keeling. Roily Burt of the CR was in a shooting with two hands from the Box N. One was killed, one wounded, and Burt, I think, was wounded also. He is gone."
"Left the country?"
"Who knows? He was wounded, they say, and I am sorry for that, for he was a good man, Senor Burt." The Mexican lighted a smoke and said reflectively, "Perhaps he was no longer wanted on the CR, either."
"Why do you say that?" Canavan asked quickly.
There had been trouble, much trouble with Senor Berdue. Senor Burt told me himself."
Berdue had trouble with Burt, yet Burt was attacked by two Box n hands? That did not seem to tie in, yet why not? Maybe that was one of the results of the conference at Thousand Springs. In any event, this would start hostilities again.
Roily Burt was a good man, the Mexican said, and if the Mexican thought so the chances were he was right. This was an area where Mexicans were not always treated well, which hinted that Burt was a friendly man, not apt to take advantage.
He was also good with a gun. Facing two men he killed one and put lead into the other. Not bad ... not bad at all.
Roily Burt might be a man he could use.
Chapter VII
Leaving Rio to be cared for, Canavan returned to his room in the Cattlemen's Hotel. Kinney was not in the lobby when he entered, and he found no one on the stairs. He realized how precarious was his own position. Although the house he was building seemed reasonably safe from discovery, there was every chance someone might stumble on the land he had plowed back in the trees. What he had done was not much, but enough to show that somebody was working on the place.
Uneasily, he studied the situation while he changed clothes, bathed and shaved. So far, everything was proceeding according to plan ... and almost too well. He had his water rights nailed down.
He had found the cattle. In the crater and on the mesa he had two bases of action that were reasonably safe from discovery, yet the situation was due to blow wide open at any moment Berdue seemed to be playing a deep game, and it might be with the connivance of his uncle, but Canavan found himself doubting it. Perhaps he had the same idea Canavan had, that from the range war would come a new situation where Berdue or someone like him would be in command.
Berdue's part puzzled Canavan, but at least he knew by sight the men Berdue met at the Springs, and he would be able to keep an eye on them. Of course, there were some strangers at the W, and he wanted to have a look at them. In fact, a visit to the W seemed much in order.
A dozen or more people were eating in the Cattleman's Cafe when he entered. He stopped, surveying the various groups with care. He had no desire to run into Berdue or Reynolds unaware, for Berdue would not and Reynolds dared not ignore him. He had stepped into the scene in Soledad in no uncertain terms.
Suddenly, at a small table alone, he spotted Dixie Venable. On impulse he walked over, spurs jingling.
She glanced up, momentarily surprised.
"Oh? It's you again. I thought you had left town!"
"After seeing you? How could I?" He indicated the chair opposite her. "May I sit down?"
"Surely." She looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, Mr. Canavan, you're not an unhandsome sort of man, but I've got a feeling you're pretty much of a savage."
"I live in a country that is savage," he replied simply. "No one has ever discovered how to tame a wild land filled with untamed people, both white and red, without some savagery. This is a hard, hard land, and a lovely land, too. But it does not want the weak and the submissive. The land demands the best one can give it, and will settle for nothing less.
"Oddly enough, I feel the land demands honor, too. That may not seem to fit with savagery, but as a matter of fact, it does. The wrong
"Do you ride for Senor Pogue or Senor Reynolds?" he asked, warily.
"Only for myself," Canavan replied. "What's the matter? The town seems too quiet."
"Si, Senor. There has been a keeling. Roily Burt of the CR was in a shooting with two hands from the Box N. One was killed, one wounded, and Burt, I think, was wounded also. He is gone."
"Left the country?"
"Who knows? He was wounded, they say, and I am sorry for that, for he was a good man, Senor Burt." The Mexican lighted a smoke and said reflectively, "Perhaps he was no longer wanted on the CR, either."
"Why do you say that?" Canavan asked quickly.
There had been trouble, much trouble with Senor Berdue. Senor Burt told me himself."
Berdue had trouble with Burt, yet Burt was attacked by two Box n hands? That did not seem to tie in, yet why not? Maybe that was one of the results of the conference at Thousand Springs. In any event, this would start hostilities again.
Roily Burt was a good man, the Mexican said, and if the Mexican thought so the chances were he was right. This was an area where Mexicans were not always treated well, which hinted that Burt was a friendly man, not apt to take advantage.
He was also good with a gun. Facing two men he killed one and put lead into the other. Not bad ... not bad at all.
Roily Burt might be a man he could use.
Chapter VII
Leaving Rio to be cared for, Canavan returned to his room in the Cattlemen's Hotel. Kinney was not in the lobby when he entered, and he found no one on the stairs. He realized how precarious was his own position. Although the house he was building seemed reasonably safe from discovery, there was every chance someone might stumble on the land he had plowed back in the trees. What he had done was not much, but enough to show that somebody was working on the place.
Uneasily, he studied the situation while he changed clothes, bathed and shaved. So far, everything was proceeding according to plan ... and almost too well. He had his water rights nailed down.
He had found the cattle. In the crater and on the mesa he had two bases of action that were reasonably safe from discovery, yet the situation was due to blow wide open at any moment Berdue seemed to be playing a deep game, and it might be with the connivance of his uncle, but Canavan found himself doubting it. Perhaps he had the same idea Canavan had, that from the range war would come a new situation where Berdue or someone like him would be in command.
Berdue's part puzzled Canavan, but at least he knew by sight the men Berdue met at the Springs, and he would be able to keep an eye on them. Of course, there were some strangers at the W, and he wanted to have a look at them. In fact, a visit to the W seemed much in order.
A dozen or more people were eating in the Cattleman's Cafe when he entered. He stopped, surveying the various groups with care. He had no desire to run into Berdue or Reynolds unaware, for Berdue would not and Reynolds dared not ignore him. He had stepped into the scene in Soledad in no uncertain terms.
Suddenly, at a small table alone, he spotted Dixie Venable. On impulse he walked over, spurs jingling.
She glanced up, momentarily surprised.
"Oh? It's you again. I thought you had left town!"
"After seeing you? How could I?" He indicated the chair opposite her. "May I sit down?"
"Surely." She looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, Mr. Canavan, you're not an unhandsome sort of man, but I've got a feeling you're pretty much of a savage."
"I live in a country that is savage," he replied simply. "No one has ever discovered how to tame a wild land filled with untamed people, both white and red, without some savagery. This is a hard, hard land, and a lovely land, too. But it does not want the weak and the submissive. The land demands the best one can give it, and will settle for nothing less.
"Oddly enough, I feel the land demands honor, too. That may not seem to fit with savagery, but as a matter of fact, it does. The wrong
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