Borden Chantry Read Online Free PDF

horse with three white stockings.
    A man suspected of being a dangerous man to tackle, a man who did not seem like a drinker yet had been drunk…or apparently so.
    At least, he had something to start with. If he could just find that horse!
    Forty years ago this had been Kiowa country and then the buffalo hunters had come. There was a good spring here, so some of the hide-hunters had camped nearby. And later some suppliers had come in and opened a trading post for the hunters, building the place out of the board-stiff, iron-hard hides.
    Within a few months a stage stop had been added to the trading post and saloon and the cluster of dugouts and hide-shelters. One of the buffalo hunters squatted on a waterhole a few miles south and brought in some cattle. Then some copper ore had been found and a small mine started working. So the town had come into being.
    Hyatt Johnson’s father had been one of the original buffalo hunters. George Riggins, the old marshal, had been another.
    The door opened and Lang Adams came in. Seeing Borden, he came around to his table. “Well? How’s the crime detection business?”
    â€œSlow,” Borden replied irritably. “Have some coffee.”
    â€œYou worry too much.” Lang filled his cup. “After all it’s only a job.”
    â€œYeah,” Chantry replied shortly, “but it may mean my scalp. It may mean the town.”
    Lang looked at him sharply. “The town? What does that mean?”
    Chantry repeated what Reardon had said, and in reply to a question, added, “That’s all I know, but you and I both know there’s some outfits around that are as loyal to one another as some of the Scottish clans. You step on one of their toes and they all holler. Well, it looks like somebody stepped on a toe.”
    â€œI wouldn’t worry about it. It’s unlikely anybody will ever know what happened to him, and probably nobody cares.”
    â€œI care. It happened in my town.”
    â€œYou take it too seriously,” Lang said. “Look, the man is dead. More than likely he deserved shooting. I know how you feel, but what are you going to gain? You won’t get paid a dollar more, and if anybody does come looking, just say you don’t know anything about it.
    â€œThe man was a stranger. It is likely that if he was murdered it was by somebody who followed him here, somebody who may have come just for that reason. And when it was done, he simply left.”
    â€œMaybe…And again, maybe not. One thing I do know, Lang. If he’s still around here, I am going to find him. And when I find him, he will go to jail…Or hang.”

Chapter 3
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    B ORDEN CHANTRY WAS a puzzled man. He wanted very much to do his job right, but he had never been any hand at puzzles…Trails, yes. He could work out a trail, and sometimes that took some doing. Well, why not work this out the same way? The idea gave him confidence.
    Time Reardon had said the stranger had been carrying a well-filled poke…So where was it? Time had noticed it, and it was likely that others had. Suddenly Borden was aware he had seen nothing of Puggsey Kerns or Frank Hurley, two of Reardon’s associates.
    To say they were thugs was understating the case. George Riggins had both men in jail from time to time but had been able to prove nothing that would permit keeping them there. If a drunk was robbed in the vicinity the chances were one or both had a hand in it, and it was likely they had been involved in some stage holdups out of Cheyenne, but there was no evidence.
    So far they had not been seen on the street this morning, but it was early.
    With nothing else to do Chantry strolled back to the barn. Again he looked at the body, and for the first time checked something he had observed on his first sight of the body without having it really register. The dead man’s knuckles were lightly skinned.
    Had he hit somebody? It looked like it. The dead man