Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

    • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    From $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Way of the Gun
    Way of the Gun
    Way of the Gun
    Ebook295 pages5 hours

    Way of the Gun

    By Charles G. West

    5/5

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    A wrongly accused man must break the law to win his freedom in this tale of the Old West.

    Even at seventeen years old, Carson Ryan knows enough about cow herding to realize the crew he’s with is about the worst ever. They’re taking the long way around to the Montana prairies, and they’re seriously undermanned.

    While rounding up strays, Ryan hears gunshots ring out across the range and gallops straight into a U.S. Army raid. He soon learns that the outfit he’s with is nothing but a bunch of murdering cattle rustlers, and the law thinks he’s one of them. Tied up, thrown in jail, and tried by a court that’s more interested in hanging a man than learning the truth, Carson has only two options: escape or die trying.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPenguin Publishing Group
    Release dateMar 5, 2013
    ISBN9781101597804
    Way of the Gun

    Read more from Charles G. West

    Related to Way of the Gun

    Related ebooks

    Historical Fiction For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • UNLIMITED

      The Wandering Sambar

      Dec 1, 2024

      The Wandering Sambar
      5 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      I Met Myself Coming Back

      Oct 6, 2022

      I Met Myself Coming Back
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Autumnal Adrenaline

      Sep 17, 2020

      Autumnal Adrenaline
      5 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      The Murray Lake Campaign

      May 27, 2022

      The Murray Lake Campaign
      9 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Mataura Lessons with Merv

      Feb 17, 2022

      Mataura Lessons with Merv
      8 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      A Close Encounter With A Lion

      May 25, 2023

      My Dear Baker Mrs Oswell and myself thoroughly enjoyed our stay with you and your charming wife in June. It was a true pleasure for us both to renew old times and friendship. We trust that your trip to India will be a pleasant one, and the ship you a

      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Alaska, Unfiltered

      Jan 2, 2018

      Alaska, Unfiltered
      12 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      A Tale Of Two Rams

      Jun 10, 2024

      A Tale Of Two Rams
      8 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      A Buck For Barry

      May 31, 2022

      There is something about a fallow buck that gets my blood pumping - probably initiated by my friendship with the late deer hunting guide, Barry Nelis. Barry was an experienced hunter, having travelled to many exotic destinations, and was a wealth of

      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Adventure Out West

      May 10, 2023

      Adventure Out West
      4 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Decades For A Double-six

      Jun 2, 2023

      Decades For A Double-six
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Griz Country

      Dec 29, 2020

      Griz Country
      8 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Dangerous Dan

      Oct 1, 2019

      Dangerous Dan
      9 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Hunting Places that Inspire

      Sep 6, 2023

      Hunting Places that Inspire
      11 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Ghost Story

      Oct 24, 2018

      Ghost Story
      17 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      When Tracks Lead to Trouble

      Nov 2, 2020

      When Tracks Lead to Trouble
      7 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      A Day To Remember

      Jan 26, 2023

      SOMETIMES you are given a day to remember, and it’s often shared only with your whipperin. Just before Christmas, we met far out on Romney Marsh. We had 15½ couple out and I had great expectations since every yard for miles in every direction was own

      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Fishing for Bushbuck

      Apr 27, 2020

      Fishing for Bushbuck
      7 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      The Boatman And The Bear

      May 27, 2022

      The Boatman And The Bear
      9 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Our Lady Of The Rockies

      Aug 7, 2023

      Our Lady Of The Rockies
      13 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Sam Owbridge

      Dec 14, 2022

      Sam Owbridge
      4 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Full-moon Adventures

      Aug 31, 2022

      Full-moon Adventures
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Temptation

      Dec 28, 2021

      Temptation
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      To Meet A Dugga Boy

      Apr 7, 2021

      To Meet A Dugga Boy
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      The One that Didn't GET AWAY.

      Jun 21, 2022

      The One that Didn't GET AWAY.
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Mt Tanilba Bush Bull

      Dec 3, 2018

      Mt Tanilba Bush Bull
      9 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Manahou Rusa

      Jun 7, 2023

      Manahou Rusa
      15 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Way of the Gun

    5/5

    1 rating0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      Way of the Gun - Charles G. West

      KNOCK ON WOOD.

      Suddenly a dead silence fell over the circle of cowpunchers. It lasted for only a few moments, however, before Varner replied, What the hell did you say?

      Marvin answered for him. You heard what he said, Varner. I know I heard him. He turned to Rufus sitting close by. Didn’t you hear what he said, Rufus? He turned back to Varner then. He said you better not call him Pig no more.

      Is that so? Varner responded. Well, Pig might as well learn that I’ll call him anythin’ I damn well please. He pointed his finger at Carson and demanded, What the hell are you gonna do about it? We can settle it quick enough—fists, knives, guns, any way you want it.

      Ah, hell, Marvin said, you’re twice his size. It won’t be no fair fight.

      A belligerent smile crossed Varner’s face. Well, he don’t have to fight if he ain’t man enough to back up his mouth. But he’s gonna have to apologize to me and tell me he likes being called Pig.

      Carson realized this was going to have to be settled, and the sooner the better. Since you’re givin’ me a choice of weapons . . . I’ll pick tree limbs.

      WAY OF THE GUN

      Charles G. West

      A SIGNET BOOK

      SIGNET

      Published by New American Library, a division of

      Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

      New York, New York 10014, USA

      Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,

      Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

      Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

      Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2,

      Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

      Penguin Group (Australia), 707 Collins Street, Melbourne, Victoria 3008,

      Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

      Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park,

      New Delhi–110 017, India

      Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632,

      New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

      Penguin Books (South Africa), Rosebank Office Park, 181 Jan Smuts Avenue,

      Parktown North 2193, South Africa

      Penguin China, B7 Jaiming Center, 27 East Third Ring Road North,

      Chaoyang District, Beijing 100020, China

      Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

      80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

      First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,

      a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

      eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-59780-4

      Copyright © Charles G. West, 2013

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

      REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

      PUBLISHER’S NOTE

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

      The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

      If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

      For Ronda

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 1

      Looks like I might have company, young Carson Ryan thought as he watched the two riders approaching the North Platte River. Always one to exercise caution, he remained in the cover of the cottonwoods on the north bank until he could see what they were about. Cowpunchers from the look of them, he thought, no packhorses that would indicate it was just the two of them on their way somewhere—maybe scouts for a wagon train of some kind. As he watched, the two separated to inspect the banks up and down the river, almost to the point of Carson’s camp. It was obvious to him then that they were selecting a crossing. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he led his horse over beside a tall cottonwood and pulled off his boots. Then he stood on the buckskin’s back to reach a stout limb. Climbing up in the tree, he looked back to the south and soon got the answer to his question. A faint cloud of brown dust in the distance announced the approach of a cattle herd. He remained up in the tree until he saw the first steers. With no further concern for caution, he descended from the tree to drop down on the ground. When the two point men rode back to meet the herd, he sat down and pulled his boots back on.

      It was getting a little late in the day to cross the river, he thought. They’d most likely hold them on the other side tonight and cross them over in the morning. He knew from experience that cows weren’t fond of river crossings. Although only seventeen years of age, he had worked with cattle for most of those years, so he guessed it would always be in his blood. He was hoping to catch on with a herd heading for Montana where there were already some big outfits grazing their cattle on the vast open bunchgrass prairies. He had come up from Texas with a herd of twenty-five hundred head belonging to Mr. Bob Patterson. Starting on the Western Trail at Doan’s Crossing near Vernon, Texas, they went only as far as Ogallala. Mr. Patterson tried to persuade him to return to Texas with him to pick up another herd, but Carson wanted to see Montana. Patterson wished him well, and Carson set out for Fort Laramie, thinking it a possibility to catch a herd stopping there for supplies. It was a long shot, but at seventeen, a boy can wait out the winter and hope for something in the spring.

      Carson was thinking now that he must have luck riding with him, because he had decided to make camp earlier than usual—and along comes a herd right where he camped. Maybe they could use another hand. One thing for sure, they weren’t looking to buy any supplies at Fort Laramie, because if they were, they missed the fort by a good forty miles. We’ll just sit right here and see what kinda outfit they are, he told the buckskin gelding. On second thought, he decided it would be better to cross over to the south side, since that was more likely to be where the herd would be bedded down for the night. While he waited, he decided he would inspect the river to find the place he would pick to cross a herd.

      * * *

      Well, now, who the hell is that? Duke Slayton asked when he sighted the lone rider waiting by the river.

      Johnny Briggs turned in the saddle and looked where Duke pointed. Damned if I know, he replied. He weren’t there when me and Marvin scouted the banks.

      Well, he’s sure as hell there now, Duke came back. You and Marvin go on up ahead and make sure he ain’t got no friends lyin’ below that riverbank, waitin’ to pop up, too.

      Johnny wheeled his horse around a couple of times, straining to get a better look at the man before he complied with Duke’s order. He had his suspicions the same as Duke, and he wasn’t anxious to become the sacrificial lamb in the event that there might be a welcoming party waiting to gain a herd of cattle. He don’t look to be much more’n a kid, he finally decided. He might just be a stray, lookin’ for a job, he said. And we’re damn sure short of men, he added.

      Or lookin’ for a meal, Duke said, although he noticed that the young man was riding a stout-looking buckskin and was leading a packhorse. You goin’ or not?

      I’m goin’, Johnny replied, and wheeled his horse once again. Come on, Marvin. The two of them were off at a fast lope while Duke turned back to meet Rufus Jones, who was riding forward to meet him.

      I’m thinkin’ ’bout beddin’ ’em down in the mouth of this shallow valley, where they can get to the water and there’s plenty of good grass, Rufus called out as he pulled his horse to a stop. That all right with you?

      Yeah, hell, I don’t see why not. I ain’t wantin’ to try to push ’em across tonight, and that’s a fact, Duke replied. They were driving close to two thousand head of cattle, and by the time the boys riding drag caught up, it would most likely be approaching dusk. The herd had been strung out for about two miles since the noontime rest.

      Up ahead, Johnny and Marvin slowed their horses to a walk while both men scanned the brush and trees behind the lone stranger, alert to anything that didn’t look right. With nothing to suggest foul play afoot, they walked their horses up to the rider awaiting them. Johnny was the first to speak. Well, young feller, what are you doin’ out here all by your lonesome?

      I was campin’ down the river a ways, Carson replied, and I saw you ride up. So I thought I’d say howdy—maybe visit awhile if you’re fixin’ to bed that herd down here.

      Johnny studied the young man carefully. He was young right enough, but he was a husky fellow, and fairly tall, judging by the length of his stirrups. He could see no deceit in the deep blue eyes that gazed out at him. Why, sure, Johnny responded. Right, Marvin? He didn’t wait for Marvin’s answer. We’re always glad to share our campfire with strangers. Where you headed, anyway?

      Well, I was thinkin’ about ridin’ up to Fort Laramie and maybe catchin’ on with a herd movin’ on through to Montana Territory.

      Is that a fact? Marvin asked. Maybe you should talk to the boss. He nodded toward Duke Slayton, who was riding up behind them now. ’Cause that’s where we’re pushin’ this herd—up Montana way.

      Maybe Lady Luck was following Luke, Carson thought, as a sturdy-looking man with a full face of gray whiskers rode up to join them. Like the two before him, he cast a sharp eye back and forth along the line of the bank behind Carson. Figuring that if there was any funny business planned, it would already have been happening, he nodded to the young man. Howdy, young feller, he remarked. Where are you headed?

      Marvin answered before Carson had a chance. He’s on his way to Fort Laramie, lookin’ to catch on with a herd goin’ to Montana.

      That brought a look of interest to Duke’s face. Well, now, is that so? You ever work cattle before?

      Yes, sir. I just came up from Texas with a herd that belonged to Mr. Bob Patterson, but he only took ’em as far as Ogallala.

      How come you wanna go to Montana? Duke asked.

      ’Cause I ain’t ever been there, Carson replied.

      Duke grinned. I reckon that’s reason enough. Reminds me of myself when I was about your age. He paused to think about it a moment longer before deciding. We are short a man. He glanced at Johnny and shrugged. Hell, we could use about two more men than we’ve got, but one more would make a heap of difference. Wouldn’t it, Johnny?

      Johnny responded with a grin of his own, I reckon that’s the truth, all right.

      I guess we could give you a try, Duke went on. This feller, Patterson, I reckon he was payin’ you about twenty dollars a month. Right?

      No, sir, Carson replied. He was payin’ me thirty dollars.

      That’s the goin’ rate for an experienced cowhand, Duke came back. And right now you’re a pig in a poke. Carson shrugged indifferently, and Duke continued. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you a try at twenty until you show me you can cowboy with the rest of us. Whaddaya say? Carson started to reply, but Duke interrupted when a thought occurred. You ain’t wanted by the law, are you?

      No, sir, Carson answered. I ain’t. He hesitated for a moment, then said, I reckon I’ll go to Montana with you. He knew he was worth more than the twenty dollars offered, but he didn’t blame the man. Besides, he figured, he was bound for Montana one way or another, so he might as well go with this outfit. It might be a better bet than looking for one passing near Fort Laramie this late in the summer. He didn’t know where in Montana they were taking the cattle, but if he had to guess, he’d say they had over three hundred miles to go. So they were cutting it close as far as the weather was concerned. It was going to get pretty cold in a month or so.

      Fine, Duke said. My name’s Duke Slayton. This is Johnny Briggs and Marvin Snead. What’s your name?

      Carson Ryan.

      All right, Carson, you can meet the rest of the boys at supper. Might as well just wait around till the drags come in and we settle the herd in this valley. You can dump your bedroll and other stuff in the chuck wagon and talk to Skinny Willis—he’s the wrangler—about a string of horses. He turned to Johnny then. You and Marvin pick the best place to cross in the mornin’?

      Right here where we’re settin’ is about as good as any, I reckon, Johnny said. There ain’t much bank to climb on the other side.

      Duke turned to Carson then in a spirit to playfully test the new man. What do you say, Carson? This look like a good place to push ’em across?

      No, sir, Carson replied stoically. If it was me, I’d try it upstream a couple hundred feet, maybe on the other side of that tallest cottonwood. He pointed to the tree.

      All three men looked genuinely surprised to hear his reply. Is that so? Duke responded. And why would you do that? The banks are good and low on both sides right here.

      Quicksand, Carson answered, matter-of-factly.

      Quicksand? Johnny exclaimed. How do you know that?

      Carson shrugged. Well, I don’t know for sure, but I noticed a couple of places toward the other side where the water looked like it was makin’ little whirlpools. And it wasn’t flowin’ around any tree roots or rocks or anything, and that’s what the water looks like when there’s quicksand under it.

      Duke couldn’t contain the laugh. He threw his head back and roared. Whaddaya think, Johnny? Maybe we oughta go ahead and give him the thirty dollars.

      I’m just sayin’ that’s what the water looked like when we got into some quicksand on a drive two years ago crossin’ the Red River, Carson quickly offered, afraid he might have made an enemy of Johnny. Might not be quicksand here at all.

      Ain’t worth takin’ the chance, Johnny said, apparently not offended. That stuff can cause a lot of trouble that I’d just as soon be without.

      All right, we’ll cross ’em up above the big cottonwood, Duke said cheerfully. And if we get into any quicksand, we’ll hang Carson in the damn tree. Does that suit everybody? Everyone grunted in approval, including the new hire. Now, let’s get them cows watered. Come on, Carson, I’ll take you to see Bad Eye—he’s the cook.

      * * *

      Supper that night consisted of sourdough biscuits, white gravy, and sowbelly, washed down with black coffee. Bad Eye, so named because he had only one eye, wore a patch over the empty socket where his right eye had once resided. The loss of his eye had evidently occurred quite a few years back, because the rawhide cord holding the patch in place had worn a permanent furrow around the sides of his head. A heavy man, he perspired a great deal while he was fixing the vittles, causing Carson to wonder how much of his sweat had dropped into the gravy. It didn’t seem to affect the taste of the food, however, other than perhaps adding a little more salt. The appearance of the cook seemed to have no adverse effect on the appetites of those lined up to fill their plates, and this included Carson. It seemed to him that the cook on every cattle drive he had ridden with was the last man to take a bath whenever there was an opportunity to do so.

      The rest of the crew were naturally surprised to see a stranger at the cook fire when they had all gathered to eat supper, but all seemed friendly enough after Duke informed them that Carson was a new hire who was on his way to Montana. It was a rough-looking crew of men, but most drovers were, so Carson felt right at home. When Marvin sat down beside him with a plate of food, Carson asked, Is Duke the owner of the herd, or is he just the trail boss?

      Duke’s the trail boss, Marvin replied after a gulp of black coffee. There ain’t no owner. What I mean is, we’re all kinda partners in the herd. We own it.

      Oh, Carson said, so I reckon I’m workin’ for all of you.

      That’s right, Marvin said, then chuckled. Kinda makes you feel like the low man on the totem pole, don’t it?

      Well, it ain’t like I never been there before.

      Marvin laughed again. You’ll do all right as long as you pull your share of the load.

      Their conversation was interrupted then when a tall heavyset man, who had been introduced as Jack Varner, knelt down to speak. Duke says you know how to run cattle. Maybe you’ll be ridin’ swing with me, he said facetiously. We’ve been short a man, but Duke might want you to ride drag instead, and put one of the other boys with me."

      Makes no difference to me, Carson said. I’ll do whatever job you fellers think best.

      Jack winked at Marvin and chuckled. That’s the spirit, boy. Whaddaya think, Marvin? The new man always rides nighthawk, don’t he?

      Maybe so, Marvin replied. He gave a nod of his head toward the sky. I don’t know, though. The way them clouds look, we might come us up a thunderstorm later tonight.

      Nighthawk’s fine with me, Carson quickly interjected. He didn’t express it, but he had always enjoyed riding nighthawk.

      Good, Marvin remarked, ’cause it was supposed to be my turn. He yelled over to Duke on the other side of the fire, Hey, Duke, Carson says he’ll ride nighthawk with me tonight.

      Is that so? Duke called back. He’ll most likely do a better job than you. Maybe he’ll stay awake. He yelled to Carson then, You’re still a pig in a poke, so there better not be any of our cows missin’ come mornin’.

      I’ve rode night herd before, Carson responded.

      All right, then, you’ve got the job tonight, Duke said.

      Jack got up to leave then, but made one more comment to the new man. You’d best listen to what Duke told you. If there’s any cows missin’ in the mornin’, he’ll probably shoot you. Then he laughed when he recalled Duke’s comment. Pig in a poke, that’s a good name for you—Pig, that sounds better’n Carson. He walked away then, laughing at the joke he had made.

      Don’t pay no attention to that big blowhard, Marvin said. He just farts outta the wrong end. He leaned over closer to Carson then as if what he was going to say next was confidential. If you get hungry ridin’ the herd tonight, sometimes you can sneak a cold biscuit outta that big drawer on this side of the chuck wagon. That’s where Bad Eye keeps ’em when there’s leftovers. He don’t want nobody to get ’em, ’cause he mixes ’em up in the gravy in the mornin’. He sleeps right under that side of the tailgate, so make sure that eye patch is over his left eye. That’s his good eye. He shifts the patch over it when he goes to bed. He snickered then. Hell, if you’re quiet enough, you can sneak a hot biscuit when he’s fixin’ supper if you sneak up on his blind side. But you’ll likely get a thump on the head with an iron skillet if he catches you.

      * * *

      It turned out to be Carson’s lot to be tested on his first night with the herd. He and Marvin rode in opposite directions around the herd, so as to pass each other frequently. The cattle were quiet enough in the small valley created by two low lines of hills. But low clouds had begun rolling over the hills on the east side of the valley not long after the camp had settled in for the night, causing Carson to unroll his rain slicker. He had seen enough thunderstorms over the prairie to know that one was coming. They may have stuck me on nighthawk as a joke, he thought, but I ain’t the only one who won’t get any sleep tonight. As if confirming the thought, a long, silent fork of lightning streaked through the distant clouds, and the breeze kicked up a notch. It did not go unnoticed by the cattle, and some of those on the outer edges of the herd began to get uneasy. Carson circled around the flanks, talking to them in a soothing voice, a little singsong tone that he had comforted cattle with before.

      His and Marvin’s efforts seemed to settle the more restless steers for a while, but it was not to last. Suddenly the wind kicked up again, this time stronger than a breeze, and the dark clouds that had drifted directly above the valley were suddenly split by a sudden flash of lightning and a sharp crack of thunder. It was repeated almost immediately, and was cause enough to terrify the cattle. Those on the lower end of the herd bolted in panic toward the divide through which they had been driven to the river earlier. The rest of the herd bolted after them in crazed abandon.

      Carson sprang into action, knowing he had no time to wait for help from Marvin, who was on the opposite end of the herd. Behind him, the sleeping camp was awakened by that most dreaded alarm. Stampede! someone shouted, and the camp was in an immediate state of panic as every man rushed to get to his horse. Racing after the mob on his buckskin, Carson caught up with the leaders and, with the help of his six-gun, managed to turn them to the right. The rest of the frenzied herd followed as he continued to swing the leaders in a wide circle. Marvin soon caught up with him, and before long, some of the other men began to catch up, and seeing the direction Carson was turning them, they worked to keep the mass of bodies following the leaders. Gradually Carson turned the leaders in a smaller and smaller circle until they eventually wound up in a tight, slow-moving mass, milling restlessly but contained in the mouth of the valley. Soon the swiftly moving storm crossed over, and the men were able to quiet the cattle down again.

      Damn good job! Duke exclaimed as he rode up beside Carson. I reckon I’ll pay you the thirty dollars.

      Duke was not alone in paying Carson compliments on his quick action to keep the herd contained. Almost to a man, they thanked him for keeping the cattle from scattering all across the prairie, the one exception being Jack Varner. For some reason that Carson had not figured out, Varner seemed to resent the attention being paid the new hand. Yeah, Pig, Jack commented, you done the right thing, same as anybody else with a grain of sense woulda. You were lucky you had Marvin to back you up.

      Carson responded with a knowing smile, accustomed to seeing hazing in many forms on a cattle drive. It seemed likely that Varner was set on testing him, and the use of Pig as a nickname was meant to measure the young man’s grit. He didn’t like the nickname, but he decided not to respond to the big man’s taunts. This was only his first day with the crew, and maybe Varner would forget about it in a day or two. I expect you’re right, he said in answer to Varner’s comment.

      Hell, Marvin saw fit to comment, he didn’t get much help from me. By the time I got there, he already had the herd turned.

      Huh, Varner grunted scornfully, and walked away.

      Chapter 2

      Ordinarily they would have started out at three or four o’clock in the morning, but Duke chose not to make a river crossing in the dark, thinking it difficult enough in the light of day with the small number of men he had. So at first light, Rufus Jones led the first cattle into the river at the spot Carson had suggested. The crossing went well, with no real trouble, aside from the usual reluctance of the animals to take to the water. It was well up into the morning before the last of the disinclined steers were forced into the water and the drive got under way again. Duke Slayton rode out ahead of

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1