A Lust For Lead Read Online Free PDF

ranch about a mile away. It belonged to a man called George Babson, who had recently gone to town and hired six gunfighters to protect his home. The reason was that he had a new houseguest: his brother-in-law, a man by the name of Benedict Hunte.
It was Hunte that Shane had come to kill. He was the lynchpin of the Prosperity Union scandal, an accountant who knew the names of everybody involved. A lot of powerful men stood to suffer if what he knew was ever made public, and one of those – a US congressman – had hired Shane to ensure his silence, permanently.
Hunte was no fool; he had guessed what his co-conspirators would do to him if they thought he was going to spill the beans, and when Congress had sent for him to give evidence at a special hearing he had chosen to skip town instead. It was too bad that he had run to his sister’s family for safety. Tracking him had been just too damned easy.
Getting to him was going to be trickier, however. The ranch was located way out in open country, making it difficult for anybody to get close without being seen, and it was well-protected with men and firepower.
Shane slithered back out of sight and retreated to the small copse of trees where he had tethered his horse. As he drew close to it, he saw a rider approaching from the west. It was getting time for the spring round-up and Babson had a number of cowboys working for him, some of which had been patrolling the land since Hunte’s arrival. Shane quickly ducked out of sight among the trees.
The rider was a younger man than Shane by maybe five or six years and looked handsome and strong. He wore a Smith and Wesson Model Three Russian revolver and, judging by the way he carried himself in relation to it, Shane figured that he was not one of Babson’s men. This man was a professional killer of the kind that Babson could not afford and had likely come to kill Hunte.
Shane was not overly surprised to find that he had competition. Given the number of powerful men who were liable to suffer if Hunte testified, it was not unthinkable that several of them might have despatched assassins to ensure he didn’t make it to the committee. Shane held back among the trees and watched as the man rode closer. He was headed straight for him, no doubt figuring, as Shane had, that it was a good place to leave his horse while he climbed up onto the ridge to get a feel for what he was up against. When he had drawn within fifty paces – close enough that he was in pistol range but far enough away that only a well-aimed shot could kill – Shane stepped out into the open. He kept his guns holstered but his hands ready.
The man reined in before him and mentally assessed him before deciding not to go for his gun either. ‘Looks like I chose me a popular place to take a rest,’ he said.
‘There’s not a lot of shade in these parts.’ Shane replied. The exchange was amicably done.
The man nodded past him at the ridge. ‘I hear the Babson ranch is over there.’
‘It is.’ Shane confirmed.
‘I heard he bought himself some gunfighters.’
‘Nobody special, but add them to what he’s got and there’s more than twenty guns there now, and no cover for close to a quarter mile in any direction.’
‘Sounds like it’d be best to go in at night.’
‘That’s what I figured.’
Shane walked over to his horse and unhitched the reins without ever once letting the man slip out of his peripheral vision. He was ready to reach for his gun at the slightest provocation.
‘You’re Shane Ennis, aren’t you?’
Shane did not reply. He mounted his horse and turned her around in the direction of town. The stranger fell in beside him. ‘You are, aren’t you? Shit and buggery!’ He whistled through his teeth. ‘I never thought there’d come the day when I’d meet you. I’m Castor Buchanan.’
‘The man who shot Rick Valentine?’
‘Hey, you’ve heard of me! Ain’t that a breeze.’
Castor Buchanan was a killer with the sort of reputation that a