"Gambler fella was in town. Broke. Staked him, fed him a bit at the ranch. Tried to teach me the regular way, no good at all. This came easy."
"Gambler name of Luke Post?"
"Why, right-o. You know him?"
"I know him.
"Fine chap. Taught me a lot."
"He taught you right good." They had come to the edge of the tiny settlement. "Funny, these here people make their livin' mostly off the big ranchers. But when the Indian gal rode in and told 'em what was up, they all come out with their torches."
"Very British, therefore very American," said Trevor. "Your heritage lies in our nation, y' know." - "My grandma was born in Scotland. No love for your people. But I see what you mean."
People still talked in little shoals. They walked to the Powder River Saloon, and Trevor looked up and down the racks and said, "Odd. Pollard and the men are gone. But Bradbury's horse is here. And, yes, Crane's and Fox's."
"Trouble, trouble," said Buchanan. "Let's have a palaver with the big men."
Noonan eyed them with suspicion and a bit of fear as they went to the back room. Buchanan slammed open the door, and Trevor followed him in. The men at the table started back, Crane kicked over his chair.
Buchanan said, "Well, Colonel, here I am."
"You . . . you hired out to me, and then you crossed me."
Crane said, "And look, he already picked up with that goddam British bastard."
Fox edged his chair away from the table. "What do you want? You get nothin' from us. You showed your colors, the both of you."
"Raisin' the good town people agin us," said Bradbury. "You caused a lot of harm here tonight, Buchanan."
"With some help from me, I hope," said Trevor.
"You double crossin' sonofabitch." Crane came in a rash. "I'll take you apart."
Trevor's gun slid out. Buchanan stepped in front of him. Trevor covered the other two.
Buchanan met Crane, took hold of him with his left hand, and stopped the giant in his tracks. He said, "You s u re use a lot of bad language, Crane. I know you're Crane because I been warned against that bad tongue of yours."
Crane tried to kick to the groin. Buchanan shook him once, then shoved him against the wall, so that he bounced like a rubber ball. As he rebounded, Buchanan hit him with a right hand. Crane went off his feet, staggered, sighed. Then he dropped to the floor in a heap.
Trevor said, "Now that was neat. That was quite the old n eat bit. I do like that."
Buchanan addressed Bradbury. "I never signed on with you. I came up here to look around and maybe do what I could. But you never told me what was doin'. You never to l d me you were out to hang farmers."
“ A rustler. Day was a rustler."
"You're a liar. I saw the hide, I saw the way it was pl anted. I saw enough to know it was a frame-up."
Fox squealed, "You better be careful who you accuse."
"Accuse? Why, mister, when I accuse someone, it'll be to hi s face. And he's likely to stand trial. Because I'll have proof that he's guilty. I'm tellin' you Adam Day framed and lynched. You can take it from there."
Bradbury said, "You better not butt into this, Buchan an. I'll pay your fare back to New Mexico. You better take the stage south."
Fox said, "When Morgan gets his gun, you better make yourself scarce. We got men can take care of people like you. And you, too, Trevor."
"They do run off at the mouth, now, don't they?" Bu chanan asked of Trevor.
"Very often."
"You'll see," said Fox. "You'll see soon enough."
Bradbury said, "Shut up, Dealer. There's been too much talk, like Buchanan says. I didn't want it this way. But now it's come to pass, we'll do what we got to do. You better get out. This here is war."
"Uh-huh," said Buchanan. "And you used to be a right decent hombre. I mind when you was as good a man as need be. Didn't have much then. Yep, you wasn't a bad sort. Well, be seein' you."
He turned his back. Trevor's eyes were on Dealer Fox, on Crane struggling to regain his senses.
At the door, Trevor said, "Quite right. We'll be seeing you chaps.
Marc Nager, Clint Nelsen, Franck Nouyrigat