country for strangers and there have been too many of them around lately. Things are due to bust wide open and there will be a sight of killing before it's over."
"You're right, of course."
"And when it's over, what's left for a gun hand?
You can go on the owl-hoot ... ride the outlaw trail until somebody shoots you, or they hang you. The very man who hired you and paid you warrior's wages won't have anything to do with you once the shooting's over.
There's a revolution brewing in the Valley, and if you know anything about the history of revolutions you'll recall that as soon as the revolution is over they liquidate the revolutionaries. You take my advice and ride out of here ... now."
The older man was right, of course. To ride out would be the intelligent, sensible and safe course, but he had absolutely no intention of doing it "Scott, I didn't come here to hire on as a gun hand, although I've already had an offer from Pogue. I came in here because I've sized it up and know what it's like. This country is wide open for a good man, a strong man. There's room for me here, and I mean to take it. I want a ranch of my own, Scott, and I plan to get mine the same way Pogue, Reynolds and all the others got theirs."
"You mean with a gun?" Scott tipped the frying pan and pushed eggs onto a plate for him. "You're crazy! Pogue has at least thirty men on his range, most of them paid warriors. Reynolds has just about as many, and maybe more. And you come in here alone ... Or are you alone?"
Scott stared at him, hard-eyed. "You ain't bringin' an army in here, are you, son? There'll be killing enough without that"
"I'm alone, Scott, and I won't need any help. I'll either make it or I'll get killed. All my life, Scott, I've been fighting for existence. I've fought to protect the cattle of other men, fought for the homes of other men. I've ridden shotgun protecting bullion that belonged to other men. I've fought and worked; I've eaten dust and sweat and blood. Now I want something for myself."
Scott helped himself to some eggs and fried potatoes and sat down across the table from Canavan.
He knew just how Bill Canavan felt, for until a few years ago he had felt much that way himself.
He'd even taken the wrong route, rustling and robbing banks until suddenly he realized there was no end to it but a rope. And he had quit, sold a little place he'd owned for years, and started this store in a strange town where nobody knew him. And it had gone well. He had tended to business and stayed out of local fights and politics.
"Maybe I am too late," Canavan said, "but it seems to me a man might find a place on the side Hues and watch for the right moment and then move in.
"You see, I know how Pogue got his ranch. Vin Carter was a friend of mine and Emmett Chubb killed him. He had told me how Pogue forced his old man off his range and took over. Well, I happen to know that none of this range is legally held. It's been preempted, which gives them a claim of sorts.
Well, I've a few ideas of my own. And I'm moving in."
"Son," Scott leaned across the table, "listen to me.
Pogue's the sort of man to hire killers by the hundred if he needs them. He did force Carter off his range.
He took it by force and he has held it by force, and now he wants the whole Valley. So does Reynolds.
The Venables are the joker in the deck.
Reynolds and Pogue want the Venable place because in a way it is the key to the whole set-up ... It has the best water and some of the best pasture, but both of them are taking the Venables too lightly. It seems to me they have something up their sleeve ... or somebody has."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there's Star Levitt for one. He's no soft touch, that one! And he has some riders who seem to do more work for him than for the Venable outfit and not all of it honest work."
"Levitt a western man?"
"Could be ... probably is. Whoever he is, he knows his way around. He's a careful man and to my notion, and I've seen a lot of
"You're right, of course."
"And when it's over, what's left for a gun hand?
You can go on the owl-hoot ... ride the outlaw trail until somebody shoots you, or they hang you. The very man who hired you and paid you warrior's wages won't have anything to do with you once the shooting's over.
There's a revolution brewing in the Valley, and if you know anything about the history of revolutions you'll recall that as soon as the revolution is over they liquidate the revolutionaries. You take my advice and ride out of here ... now."
The older man was right, of course. To ride out would be the intelligent, sensible and safe course, but he had absolutely no intention of doing it "Scott, I didn't come here to hire on as a gun hand, although I've already had an offer from Pogue. I came in here because I've sized it up and know what it's like. This country is wide open for a good man, a strong man. There's room for me here, and I mean to take it. I want a ranch of my own, Scott, and I plan to get mine the same way Pogue, Reynolds and all the others got theirs."
"You mean with a gun?" Scott tipped the frying pan and pushed eggs onto a plate for him. "You're crazy! Pogue has at least thirty men on his range, most of them paid warriors. Reynolds has just about as many, and maybe more. And you come in here alone ... Or are you alone?"
Scott stared at him, hard-eyed. "You ain't bringin' an army in here, are you, son? There'll be killing enough without that"
"I'm alone, Scott, and I won't need any help. I'll either make it or I'll get killed. All my life, Scott, I've been fighting for existence. I've fought to protect the cattle of other men, fought for the homes of other men. I've ridden shotgun protecting bullion that belonged to other men. I've fought and worked; I've eaten dust and sweat and blood. Now I want something for myself."
Scott helped himself to some eggs and fried potatoes and sat down across the table from Canavan.
He knew just how Bill Canavan felt, for until a few years ago he had felt much that way himself.
He'd even taken the wrong route, rustling and robbing banks until suddenly he realized there was no end to it but a rope. And he had quit, sold a little place he'd owned for years, and started this store in a strange town where nobody knew him. And it had gone well. He had tended to business and stayed out of local fights and politics.
"Maybe I am too late," Canavan said, "but it seems to me a man might find a place on the side Hues and watch for the right moment and then move in.
"You see, I know how Pogue got his ranch. Vin Carter was a friend of mine and Emmett Chubb killed him. He had told me how Pogue forced his old man off his range and took over. Well, I happen to know that none of this range is legally held. It's been preempted, which gives them a claim of sorts.
Well, I've a few ideas of my own. And I'm moving in."
"Son," Scott leaned across the table, "listen to me.
Pogue's the sort of man to hire killers by the hundred if he needs them. He did force Carter off his range.
He took it by force and he has held it by force, and now he wants the whole Valley. So does Reynolds.
The Venables are the joker in the deck.
Reynolds and Pogue want the Venable place because in a way it is the key to the whole set-up ... It has the best water and some of the best pasture, but both of them are taking the Venables too lightly. It seems to me they have something up their sleeve ... or somebody has."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there's Star Levitt for one. He's no soft touch, that one! And he has some riders who seem to do more work for him than for the Venable outfit and not all of it honest work."
"Levitt a western man?"
"Could be ... probably is. Whoever he is, he knows his way around. He's a careful man and to my notion, and I've seen a lot of
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