Running Irons Read Free Page A

more interest in the two dead cowhands than she had for Gooch’s welfare. Swinging from the saddle, she stood for a moment and thought out the situation. First those half-a-dozen calves must be released. It was a pity they had only branded three of the animals. Alone she could not handle the branding of the others. Besides somebody might have heard the shooting and even now be riding to investigate. Shots in the dark on the Caspar County range would attract more attention under the prevailing conditions than normally and she had no wish to be caught. Being a smart woman, she did not regard the ranchers as fools, or figure they could not think things out. Maybe they might not be able to prove anything against her, but they sure would be suspicious to see her of all people riding the range at night and dressed in man’s clothing. She would be watched too carefully in future to carry on with this profitable side-line to her normal business and that was the last thing she wanted.
    Taking up a knife one of the cowhands had tossed into the dirt so as to be handy for hurried freeing of the calves, the woman walked forward and released the unbranded animals. As she expected, they wasted no time in heading off through the bushes, blatting loudly and looking for their mothers. She collected the two dead cowhands’ ropes and with her own secured the three brandedcalves to her saddlehorn. After cutting the calves’ hobbles, she mounted the horse.
    “Hard luck, boys,” she said, throwing a glance at the two shapes by the dying fire. “That’s life for you.”
    And with no more sentiment than that, the woman rode away, leading the three calves behind her. She left behind two dead cowhands—and two running irons.

Chapter 2
SHE’S A MIGHTY SMART WOMAN
    S TANTON H OWARD , G OVERNOR OF THE S TATE OF Texas, was a busy man who could quite well have done without the cow thief problem of Caspar County being dumped in his lap. Brought in after the Texans’ forcible ejection of Carpetbag Davis’ corrupt, vicious Reconstruction administration, Howard found enough work to last him a solid twenty-four hours a day—he could have worked twenty-six hours a day if that be possible and still find work to do in plenty the following morning.
    The disbanding of Davis’ State Police had brought problems in its wake. For several years there had been little State law enforcement in Texas, Davis’ men being more concerned with lining their own pockets in the guise of elevating the Negro to the status of a citizen with equal rights. With the departure of the State Police commanders—or such of them who did not meet not undeserved fates on the end of a rope—the colored policemen slipped back to their homes, or wandered northward in search of a land flowing with milk and honey. In the place of the State Police, the Texas Rangers returned from their Davis-inspired removal. Honest men, many of whom could have earned far more than their Ranger’s wages in other, less dangerous walks of life, joined. The Texas Rangers asked little of its recruits other than loyalty, courage, ability to ride anything with four legs and hair and the knowledge of how to handle firearms.
    However, with every Ranger working full time, Howard could well have done without receiving the letter from Caspar County. Yet one of the Governor’s most pressing duties was to appease those Texans—and there were many—who had developed a hearty hatred of authority as represented by Washington’s appointed head of the State. Knowing Texans, for he belonged to the Lone Star State himself, Howard could read between the lines of the letter. He smelled trouble in the air, far more trouble than one might expect from the theft of a few cows.
    A jerk on the bell cord hanging behind himbrought one of Howard’s hard-working secretaries into the well-furnished room.
    “Get Captain Murat for me,” the Governor said.
    Five minutes later the door opened and a tall, slim, dark man in his early