Novel 1954 - Utah Blaine (As Jim Mayo) (v5.0) Read Free Page A

Nevers had quietly eased several hundred head of his cattle to 46 range and that his line cabins nearest to the 46 were occupied by several men to each cabin. Nobody was going to get that range without a fight. And now this stranger had come.
    Opening the manila envelope Otten took out the papers and examined them. There was a letter addressed to him, advising that Michael J. Blaine had been appointed manager of the 46 holdings with full authority to sign checks, to purchase feed if necessary, or any and all things appertaining to the successful management of the ranch.
    There was a power of attorney and several other papers that left no doubt of Blaine’s position. Otten knew the signature well, and there could be no doubt of it. Joe Neal was alive. Moreover, he scowled, these papers were dated some weeks prior to this day.
    Otten looked up. “These seem to be in order, but I’m afraid I don’t understand. Where is Joe?”
    “I left him in El Paso, but he’s not there now. In fact, he told me he wanted a vacation. I doubt if he’ll be back here for several months, or even a year.”
    Otten leaned back, chewing on his cigar. “Have you got any idea what you’re steppin’ into?”
    “More or less.”
    “Well, let me say this. You’ll have few friends. Neal was a well-liked man, but there was envy around. When he disappeared nearly everybody began maneuvering to get a piece of his spread. Some of them have been counting on it pretty strong, and you’ll have trouble.”
    “I’m no stranger to it,” Blaine said quietly, “but I’m not huntin’ it.”
    He picked up a letter from among the papers. This informed all and sundry that Blaine was manager of the ranch with complete authority to hire, fire or purchase. It was signed by Neal and two witnesses, both of them known locally as prominent El Paso businessmen.
    “Get the word around, will you?” Blaine suggested. “I’m going out to the ranch in the morning. I hope there’ll be no trouble.”
    “There will be.”
    Blaine turned toward the door and then stopped. The girl who had driven the buckboard was coming through the door, walking swiftly. As she walked she peeled the gloves from her hands. She was about five feet and four inches and very pretty. Her eyes were deep blue, her hair red gold. She was apparently angry.
    “Ben, have you heard anything from the capitol? Are then sending a man up here to investigate my father’s murder?”
    “Now, Mary, you know they can’t be sendin’ men all over the state to look into ever’ little squabble. We’re all sorry about Gid, but it just ain’t no use to fret.”
    “Another thing. I want you to find me a new foreman. Miller is getting completely out of hand. He’s even claiming the range now. Says I’m a woman and can’t hold range.”
    Otten got up. His face was square and brown. He looked more the successful cattleman, which he was, than the banker. He was worried now, but obviously uncertain as to what course to adopt. “There’s no law says a woman can’t hold range, Mary, you know that. But I reckon it won’t be easy. You’ll have to fight for it just like Blaine, here.”
    She turned sharply and seemed to see Utah for the first time. “Blaine? I don’t know the name. What are you fighting for?”
    “He’s manager for Joe Neal, Mary. Come from El Paso to take over.”
    “Manager for Joe Neal?” She was incredulous. “I don’t believe it! What would Joe want a manager for? Anyway, Joe Neal’s dead, and you know it as well as I do. If this man says he’s Neal’s manager, he’s lying.”
    Utah smiled from under his eyebrows. “Those are hard words, Ma’am. An’ Joe Neal is alive—and well.”
    “He couldn’t be!”
    “Sorry, Ma’am, but he is.”
    “But I was told—!” she broke off sharply. Then she said, “We heard the vigilantes got him.”
    “He’s alive and I’m his manager.”
    She looked at him scornfully. “Maybe you are. Go out an’ tell that to Lud