Novel 1954 - Utah Blaine (As Jim Mayo) (v5.0) Read Online Free PDF Page A

seven men who had come up the hill. “I’m Blaine, the new manager here. I have shown my papers to Fuller. Before that I showed them to Otten. They are in order. Any of you men who want to draw your time can have it. Any of you that want to stay, you have a job. Think it over. I’ll see you at chuck.”
    Deliberately he turned his back and started up the hill to the house.
    Fuller stared after him. “Hey! You!” he yelled.
    Blaine kept on walking. Opening the door to the house, he stepped inside.
    Rip Coker chuckled suddenly. “Looks like you should of took my advice, Lud. You jumped the gun.”
    “He won’t get away with this!” Lud said furiously.
    “Looks to me like he already has,” Coker said. “Don’t you try buckin’ that hombre, Lud. He’s out of your class.”
    Lud Fuller was too angry to listen. Slowly, the men turned. There was muttering among them, for several had already been spending the money they expected to get from the stolen cattle. Now it was over. Coker looked toward the house with a glint in his eyes; then he began to chuckle softly. The situation appealed to him. It had done him good to see the way Blaine turned Fuller off short. But what was to happen next?
    Wiser than Fuller, Coker had complete appreciation of the situation in the Red Creek country. Fuller might grab the ranch, but he would never keep it. He was only one wolf among many who wanted this range; and his teeth were not sharp enough, his brain not keen enough. In this game of guns, grab and get, he would be out-grabbed and out-gunned.
    Rip Coker rolled a smoke and squinted at the blue hills. There would be some shuffling now. It seemed like one man against them all, and the odds appealed to Rip. He chuckled softly to himself.
    Lud Fuller walked back to the bunkhouse and slammed his bedroll on the bunk. He glared right and left, looking for something on which he could take out his fury. Then he stalked outside and walked toward the corral. He would ride over and see Nevers. He would see Clell Miller, on the B-Bar. Something would have to be done about this and quick.
    Coker watched him saddle up and ride out; then he turned and walked up the steps to the house. He was going to declare himself. As he reached for the door, Blaine pulled it open and stepped out. He had his coat off and he was wearing his two guns low. Rip Coker felt a little flicker of excitement go through him: this man was ready.
    “My name’s Coker,” he said abruptly. “Been on this spread about four months. I’m the newest hand.”
    “All right, Coker. What’s on your mind?”
    “Looks like you’re in for a scrap.”
    “I expected that.”
    “You’re all alone.”
    “I expected that, too.” Blaine grinned briefly. “Tell me something I don’t know, friend.”
    Coker finished rolling his smoke. “Me,” he said, without looking up. “I always was a sucker. I’m declaring myself in—on your side.”
    “Why?”
    Coker’s chuckle was dry. “Maybe because I’m just ornery an’ like to buck a tough game. Maybe it’s because I don’t like fightin’ with a gang. Maybe it’s just because I want to be on your side when you’re pushed.”
    “Those are all good reasons with me.” Blaine thrust out his hand. “Glad to have you with me, Coker. I won’t warn you. You know the setup better than I do.”
    “I figure I do.” Coker nodded toward the north. “Up there are about thirty land-hungry little ranchers. They are tougher’n boot leather, an’ most of them have rustled a few head in their time. The B-Bar has a foreman named Clell Miller. He’s a cousin of one of the old James’ crowd and just as salty. He’s a whiz with a six-gun and he’ll tackle anything. He’s figurin’ on ownin’ the B-Bar when the fight’s over. And he figures on having added to it all that land between Skeleton Ridge and the river—which is 46 range.”
    “I see.”
    “Then see this. Ben Otten’s friendly enough, a square man, but range hungry as