Kilkenny 02 - A Man Called Trent (v5.0) Read Online Free PDF

Almost, that is. Got her a Yaqui half-breed to help. Ain’t nobody to fool with, that Injun.”
    “You better hole up and stay close to home, Mort,” Lance said after a minute. “I’m dead tired, but I’ve some ridin’ to do. I caught a couple of hours’ sleep back in the hollow before the trouble.”
    He swung into saddle and started back over the trail. It was late and he was tired, but he needed more information before he could even start to figure things out. One thing he knew. He must talk to Lord and Steele and try to stop the trouble until they could get together. And he must get more information.
    Four of the enemy had died, but even as he told himself that, he remembered that none of the deadmen had been in any sense a key man. They were just straw men, men who carried guns and worked for hire, and more could be found to fill their places.
    And then Sam Carter was gone. A good man, Sam. A man who could punch cows, and who had enough stuff in him to start his own place, and to fight for what he knew was right. No country could afford to lose men like that.
    Suddenly, on the inspiration of the moment, Lance whirled the buckskin from the trail and headed for the Webb Steele spread. He could try talking to Steele, anyway.
    He was well into the yard before a man stepped from the shadows.
    “All right, stranger! Keep your hands steady. Now light, easy-like, and walk over here.”
    Lance obeyed without hesitation, carefully keeping his hands in front of him in the light from the ranch house window. A big man stepped from the shadows and walked up to him. Instinctively Lance liked the hard, rugged face of the other man.
    “Who are you?” the man demanded.
    “Name of Lance. Ridin’ by and thought I’d drop in and have a talk with Webb Steele.”
    “Lance?” Something sparked in the man’s eyes. “You the gent had the run-in with Miss Tana?”
    “That’s me. She still sore?”
    “Lance”—the older man chuckled—“shore as I’m Jim Weston, you’ve let yourself in for a packet of trouble. That gal never forgets! When she come in this afternoon, she was fit to be tied!” He holstered his gun. “What you aimin’ to see Webb about?”
    “Stoppin’ this war. Ain’t no sense to it.”
    “What’s your dicker in this?” Weston askedshrewdly. “Man don’t do nothin’ unless he’s got a angle somewheres.”
    “What’s your job here, Weston?” Lance said.
    “Foreman,” Weston announced. “Why?”
    “Well, what’s the ranch makin’ out of this war? What are you makin’?”
    “Not a cussed thing, cowboy. She’s keepin’ me up nights, and we got all our ’punchers guardin’ fence when they should be tendin’ to cows. We’re losin’ cattle, losin’ time, losin’ wire, and losin’ money.”
    “Shore. Well, you don’t like that. I don’t like it, either. But my own angle is Mort Davis. Mort’s a friend of mine, and, Weston, Mort’s goin’ to keep his place in Lost Creek. He’ll keep it, or, by glory, there’ll be Lord and Steele ’punchers planted under every foot of it.”
    “Think you’re pretty salty, don’t you?” Weston demanded, but there was a glint of understanding in his eye. “Well, mebbe you are.”
    “I’ve been around, Weston. But that don’t matter. You and me can talk. You’re an old trail hand yourself. You’re a buffalo hunter, too. What you got against Mort?”
    “Nothin’. He’s a sight better hand and a whole lot better man than lots of ’em ridin’ for this ranch now.” He shook his head. “I know what you mean, mister. I know exactly. But I don’t make the rules for the ranch. Webb does…Webb, or Tana.”
    They stepped inside the ranch house, and Weston tapped on an inner door. At a summons, he opened it. Big Webb Steele was tipped back in his chair across the table from the door. His shirt was open two buttons, showing a hairy chest, and his hard level eyes seemed to stare through and through Lance. To hisright was Tana, and, as she