Sudden--Strikes Back (A Sudden Western #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

interrupted by the rancher himself, who pounded the table with
his fist for silence.
    ‘ Boys, I ain’t much on speechifyin’,’ the old man began, ‘but I
got somethin’ to tell you. I near stretched rope today, an’ I been
thinkin’ deep ever since. They say a man thinks better when he’s
nigh on meetin’ his Maker.’ He joined the chuckle which these words
prompted, then continued, ‘You boys got a right to choose yore own
trail. As far as I’m concerned, there’s goin’ to be trouble in this
valley. Barclay wants my land, an' these hired gunslicks o’ his
ain’t goin’ to give up easy. Which means some shootin’. Now, wait a
minnit!—’ He held up his hands to stem a rising tide of protest and
comment from his riders. ‘Afore you all buck-jump into a range war,
you better hear me out. This is about my girl Grace.’
    Gimpy
leaned over to Green and murmured ‘The old man’s daughter. She’s in
some fancy school back East.’ Green nodded his understanding as
Tate continued talking.
    ‘ Grace is nigh on twenty-one years old, boys, and she ain’t
been out here for mebbe ten years. She’s been in a high-toned
school since I cain’t recall when, an’ I’m wagerin’ she ain’t
over-interested in running no ranch in New Mexico. I made me a
will, years ago, an’ if anythin’ happens to me, the Slash 8 goes to
Grace. You boys followin’ my drift?’
    ‘ Hell, boss, yo’re sayin’ that if anythin’ happens to you,
we’ll prob’ly find ourselves riding the chuckline,’ Dobbs
said.
    ‘ That’s about the way of it,’ Tate admitted.
    ‘ Well, only one thing we can do, ain’t there?’ Gimpy asked. The
Slash 8 crew nodded almost in unison. ‘Just make dang shore nothin’
happens to you!’ finished the old puncher.
    A babble
of agreement and argument followed these words, while Tate pounded
the table trying to get them to stop and listen to him. After a few
moments his efforts met with success and the riders turned to face
him again.
    ‘ You boys ain’t makin’ sense,’ he told them vehemently. ‘This
place is awready mortgaged; I could easy sell out to the bank, move
out o’ here, give you all a grubstake. If you stay, I can’t
guarantee . . .’
    That was
as far as he got. A chorus of yells, denunciations, and arguments
drowned whatever he was saying, until finally Gimpy pounded the
table with the butt of his six-shooter and, casting a cold eye upon
his fellows, stood up and announced, ‘I just ee-lected myself
spokesman for this yere outfit. Anyone got any complaints about
that, now’s the time to voice ’em!’
    There
was a silence worthy of a cemetery, and Green smiled to himself at
Gimpy’s command over the crew.
    ‘ Boss, what we got to say can be said short an’ sweet. We-all
don’t care if you leave the Slash 8 to the Ol’ Ladies Home. Long as
yo’re here, we aim to stay here with you, come hell or high
water.’
    A shout
of agreement followed this speech, and Tate looked at his riders
with an expression in which relief fought against and was
extinguished by affection. With misty eyes, the old man said,
‘She’s a gamble, either way, but I figger the Slash 8’s worth it.
Them night-ridin’ skunks’ll have a tough row to hoe.’
    ‘ You said it, boss,’ chimed in Dave Haynes, his eyes snapping
with eagerness. ‘Give Cookie a gun an’ there’ll be seven of us.
That’ll make ’em think twice afore they try anything.’
    ‘ Mebbe I didn’t oughta butt in on yore private scrap, seh,’
interposed Green, ‘but you can make that eight—if you an’ yore
boys’ll have me.’
    Tate
looked up quickly. ‘You mean you’d—throw in with us,
Jim?’
    ‘ Why not?’ was the cool reply. ‘I ain’t shore but what I might
find what I’m a—lookin’ for right here in Sweetwater
Valley.’
    ‘ Well, dang me if you ain’t welcome, an’ that’s for true,’ Tate
chortled. ‘We can use all the help we can get.’
    Green’s
eyes flickered quickly over the