The Man From Bar-20 by Clarence E. Mulford (best books to read for young adults .txt) đ
- Author: Clarence E. Mulford
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âMaverick,â grunted Holbrook, waiting for the next. âLogan shore is careless in his calf roundups. Thatâs four of âem we got in thâ last two raids. Reckon he thinks brandinâ is more or less unnecessary, thâ way heâs located. Anâ dâ-d if here donât come another! Nope; itâs a sleeper. Somebody took thâ trouble to cut thâ notch.â
Ackerman did his share of the work, silent and preoccupied, and when the last cow had been turned onto the range he wheeled abruptly, looked around, and walked over to Quigley, who was approaching.
âI reckon I better go off on a little scout,â he said. âI ainât satisfied about Nelson; anâ thâ more I mills it over, thâ less satisfied I am. You can grin; but ,âm tellinâ you it ainât no grinninâ matter!â he snapped, eying the group. âIâm tellinâ you what ,âm goinâ to do, anâ thatâs all.â
âThatâs for you to say,â smiled Quigley. âNobodyâs goinâ to try to stop you; but we reckon yoâre only makinâ trouble for yoreself. Heâs quit thâ Twin Buttes country. I understand heâs prospectinâ south of town.â
âHe ainât prospectinâ none,â retorted Ackerman. âAnâ he wasnât prospectinâ up here, neither; he was runninâ a bluff, anâ makinâ it stick. I looked into that gravel bed!â
Fleming laughed. âHe was coverinâ his rustlinâ operations. His real prospectinâ was to be done with a rope anâ a runninâ iron.â
âYes,â grunted Sanford; âanâ now heâs doinâ thâ same thing down south, Iâll bet. Thâ Circle S has got a lot of sleepers anâ mavericks runninâ on their outlyinâ range. Holmes has been threateninâ for two years to round âem all up; but when heâs ready, thâ Long T ainât; anâ tâother way around,â
âOur friend is goinâ to set right down on a rattler if he starts rustlinâ down there,â grinned Purdy. âThem two ranches are wide awake. I know, because Iâve looked âem over.â
âHeâll tackle thâ job,â said Harrison; âbecause heâs somethinâ of a pinwheel hisself.â
âThatâs how I figger it,â said Holbrook quickly. âA burned child loves thâ fire, if itâs stubborn. Let him alone; donât stir him up. We donât want him up here, anâ thatâs our limit. What he does down there ainât no game for us to horn into. Let âem fiddle anâ dance anâ be d d.â
Ackerman regarded them pityingly and shrugged his shoulders. âI pass I Ainât there no way to get it through yore heads that I donât believe heâs interested in anythinâ but us? Itâs like drillinâ in granite. I hammer anâ hammer, twist thâ drill anâ hammer some more; anâ after hard work all I got is a little hole, with a cussed sight more granite below it! I feel like ramminâ in a charge of powder anâ blowinâ it to hâl anâ gone. Look at me I Listen! Put away yore marbles, anâ think!â
âWhy donât you fellers listen?â grinned Fleming.
âJust because he went south donât say he stayed there,â hammered Ackerman. âHe wasnât scared away; not by a dâ-d sight. I know that. Fleming, Gates, anâ Harrison know it. We all know it. He went south. But he can turn, canât he? If he canât, lieâs in a hâl of a fix! No tellinâ where heâll end up Patagonia, mebby. All right, he can turn. Itâs only a question of where! Heâs goinâ to turn; anâ when he does, Iâm goinâ to be there anâ see him do it. Iâm goinâ to make it my business to find him, watch him, anâ trail him. If he turns north Iâm goinâ to get him. Anâ if youâll take any advice from me, youâll all begin to take long rides, north, east, south, anâ west; mostly southwest anâ west. Youâll ride in pairs, anâ youâll keep yore fool eyes open. Thâ time has passed for loafinâ around here, shootinâ craps anâ swappinâ lies. Yoâre smokinâ on an open powder keg; anâ dân you, you ainât got sense enough to know it!â He raised his clenched fists. âImeanitl Dân you you ainât got sense enough to know it!â
Quigley laughed, although uneasily; for Ackermanâs earnestness carried unrest with it. âJim, Jim,â he said kindly, âweâve been up here a long time; anâ weâve given these hills a name that guards âem for us. Them that bothered us disappeared; anâ thâ lesson was learned.â
âWas it?â shouted Ackerman. âHe didnât learn it! He come up here, plump in thâ face of yore warninâ, in spite of what he had heard in Hastings! Why? Because itâs his business to come! Because heâs paid to come! He ainât one of them Hastings loafers! He ainât no sleepy puncher, satisfied to draw down his pay, anâ thâ hâl with thâ ranch! I tell you you never saw a man like him before. Canât you see it? Logan found out that he was a real man, a gun man, anâ not scared of hâl anâ high water. Then he quits Logan, an I comes up here. Canât you see it? Can you? Think, dânit; THINK!â
âI did; have been, anâ am,â snapped Quigley angrily. âThinkinâ is one thing; goinâ loco, another. I think yoâre a dâ-d fool!â
Ackerman threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. âAll right; have it yore own way. I give it up. I pass before thâ draw. But I ainât swallerinâ no pap anâ gazinâ at thâ moon. Iâm goinâ to keep my eyes on Nelson.â
âYou want to; heâs a bad hombre,â said Fleming uneasily.
Ackerman wheeled and smiled at the speaker. âHe is; anâ heâs a dâ-d good man. I takes off my hat to him; anâ I wish to heaven we had a few Nelsons up here; this ranch would hum. Anâ youâd âaâ done better if youâd follered yore own advice. I wonât make thâ same mistake twice. Thâ minute he makes a false move Iâll plug him. I underrated him before; now Iâm goinâ to overrate him, to be on thâ safe side. But you ainât got a thing to say: three to one, anâ you let him make fools out of you!â
âI admits it,â said Fleming. âAnâ thatâs why Iâm tellinâ you to look out for him. Heâs as quiet as a flea; anâ as harmless as blastinâ powder. I wish you luck.â
âI ainât so harmless myself,â retorted Ackerman.
âAnâ now I know what Iâm buckinâ. Youâll see me when you see me; Iâm preparinâ to be gone a month or more.â
They watched him enter the bunk-house, and when he came out again he had his saddle and a blanket roll; and when he rode into the canyon without a backward glance or a parting word he had his slicker, a generous supply of food, and plenty of ammunition.
Quigley watched him until he rode out of sight beyond the canyon, and turned toward his outfit, shaking his head. âHeâs so allfired set on it that Iâm gettinâ a little restless myself. Jim ainât no fool; anâ he donât often shy at a shadow. It wonât do us no harm, anyhow; anâ we can take turns at it. Iâll start it off by takinâ one side tomorrow, anâ Holbrook can take thâ other. Later on weâll figger it out anâ arrange thâ shifts. Mebby heâs right.â
JIM ACKERMAN strode into Pop Hayesâ saloon, where he found the proprietor and Charley James squabbling acrimoniously over the value of a cribbage hand.
âNot satisfied with gettinâ a twenty-four hand,â snorted Charley, âhe tries to make it twentyseven, shovinâ âem around like he was playinâ three-card monte! You old fool! Youâve counted them runs once moreân you oughter; but I donât care how much you mills âem; itâs twenty-four!â
âI ainât done no more countinâ than theyâll stand!â
âI dunno what they 9 II stand; but I knows what 7âU stand. Itâs twenty-four!â
âSoon as you gets two bits up,â sneered Pop, âyou lose yore nerve. You can play all day for fun, anâ never loose a yelp; but when youâve got money up you acts like you was stabbed!â
âThat so? You forget how to count when thereâs money up!â
âWhen yoâre winninâ everything is lovely; but when yoâre losinâ you go on thâ prod!â
âYou donât have to go; yoâre allus rarinâ around on yore hind laigs, a-pawinâ thâ air anâ snortinâ. Leave it to Ackerman. I dare you!â
âIâll leave it to anybody but you. You hadnât ought to even play for th j drinks. Jim, look at that twentyseven hand anâ tell that fool what it counts, will you?â
Ackerman moved it around and grinned. âFifteen eight; two pairs is twelve, anâ four runs of three makes that twentyseven hand count just twenty-four. Anâ itâs a cussed good hand, too; you shore knows how to discard.â
Charley nodded emphatically. âThere! I told you so!â
Pop raised his hands helplessly to heaven. âHow much longer have I got to keep thâ peace? Two more like you anâ Charley anâ this country would go plumb to thâ dogs I Yoâre two fools.â
âNow whoâs stabbed?â jeered Charley. âYou can get more out of one crib hand than most folks can find in two. â Four, five, six,ââ he mimicked. âWhy donât you shift âem around anâ work six, five, four; anâ five, six, four; anâ four, six, five? A genius like you ought to get thirty-six out of a twenty-four hand anâ never turn a hair. Iâm such a stranger to a hand like that that Iâd be satisfied with twenty-four. I ainât no genius at figgers.â
âIf I told you what you are, youâd get insulted!â
âAnybody that could insult you could make cows live on malpais anâ get fat,â sneered Charley. âIâve done called you a liar, anâ a cheat, anâ a thief â
âHey! Stop that!â interposed Ackerman. âQuit it; anâ have a drink with me. Youâd let a man die of thirst, I believes.â
Pop shuffled around behind the bar and sullenly produced the bottle and the glasses. âI know, Jim,â he apologized; âbut you donât know how my patience gets tried!â
Charley snorted. âIf they ever tries yore patience theyâll lynch it. Hereâs how, Jim.â
âGood luck,â said Jim, tossing off the drink.
Charley, walking back toward the card table, caught sight of the well-loaded horse outside; and Pop, taking advantage of the situation, reached swiftly under the bar and slid two Colts toward Ackerman, who frowned and pushed them back. âSome other time,â he growled. âAinât goinâ back right away.â He pushed his hat back on his head. âAny news?â
âThere ainât never any news in this place,â answered the proprietor. âBut I hear as how thâ Circle S has fired Long Pete Carson for stayinâ drunk. Long Pete was all het up over it anâ lets drive at Holmes. Beinâ unsteady he missed Dick anâ nicked Harry Kane. Then Dick took thâ gun away from him anâ give him a beatinâ. Dickâs hands are shore eddicated. Thâ Long T near lost three bosses in that quicksand near Big Bend; anâ Smith come near goinâ with âem. Anâ that Nelson is prospectinâ somewhere near thâ Circle S, if he ainât left thâ country.â
âWhat makes you think that heâs mebby left thâ country?â inquired Ackerman casually.
âHe had his spirit busted when his cabin burned. Said this country was too full of dogs for a white man to live in. But I reckon heâll work around thâ Circle S or thâ Long T a while before he quits for good.â
Charley turned and grunted derisively. âThatâs all you know about it. He crossed the river near thâ Circle S, over Rocky Ford, anâ went to Bitter Creek hills.â
âHowâd you know he did?â demanded Pop.
âI was told
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