War on the Cimarron Read Online Free PDF

guardhouse and freight you up to trial in Kansas.”
    He turned on his heel and pushed his way through the crowd of curious men. The loafers, with a last curious glance at Frank and Shibe, drifted away, leaving the lantern on the ground.
    Frank turned to Shibe. “I’m much obliged,” he said slowly. “Only you know damn well them shots wasn’t meant for you.”
    Shibe grinned and nodded. “I knew they was meant for you. That’s why I followed you back.”
    â€œYou knew someone was plannin’ it?”
    Shibe shrugged. “Word’s already out about your tangle with the Circle R outfit and with Corb. Morg Wheelon did the same thing, and he’s dead.”
    Frank’s attention narrowed. “You knew Morg, you say?”
    â€œI was the last man to see him alive.” Shibe said. He grinned. “Somebody can’t forget that, and they’re afraid of what I might know. That’s what Captain Arthur meant by me makin’ trouble. They’ve tried three times in the last month to nail me.”
    â€œWhy’d you tell me to let you talk?”
    Shibe grinned again. “The army’s the only law we got around here, and they’re already down on me, so it don’t matter. But I figured it won’t be long before you’ll be standin’ up on your hind legs and talkin’ back to some of these ranahans, and the longer you keep away from the army the longer you can stand.”
    Frank looked sharply at the redhead. It was almost as if his mind had been read. He said, nodding toward the horse, “That’s a Circle R brand.”
    â€œDon’t mean a thing. It was probably stole.”
    â€œKnow who those men were?”
    Shibe shook his head. Frank regarded him thoughtfully, then said, “You ridin’ the grub line, Shibe?”
    â€œI would if there was a grub line to ride.”
    â€œIt’s a funny thing,” Frank murmured, his eyes baleful. “Ever since I got here I been askin’ questions, and I been gettin’ no answers. I been standing up, and somebody keeps tryin’ to knock me down. All right. I know what I got to know now. Me, I’m gettin’ down on all four and askin’ no more questions, and I aim to bite somebody. How does it sound to you?”
    â€œLike Morg Wheelon, partner,” Shibe drawled.
    Frank put out his hand. “We might’s well howl together then, because you’re workin’ for me, Red.”
    Red Shibe looked at the hand and then glanced up. “I’ve got a bad name, you know.”
    â€œYou got nothin’ on me,” Frank said. “When I get through doin’ what I’m goin’ to do I’ll have one too.”
    And then Red Shibe gripped his hand, and his smile was wholly friendly.

Chapter III
    Riding back to the wagon through the night, Frank listened to what Red Shibe had to say. It was only a variation of what Barnes and Edith Fairing had told him, only with more background and a kind of shrewd understanding. Shibe had done Morg a good turn, and Morg had given him work during the winter putting up the shack. Morg had promised him a riding job, but Red, understanding that a crew was coming up with Frank from Texas, was slow to accept it unless they needed him. That was the agreement then, that he and Morg would talk with Frank. And then Morg was murdered and Circle R moved in, and Red kept his counsel, waiting for Frank.
    Every word Red said added to Frank’s determination, and he was silent most of the ride. Sometime after midnight they put their horses down the slope toward the wagon. It was dark, and the fire was long since out.
    Frank rode up to the camp, but before he was even close someone called out into the night, “Stay where you are!”
    â€œIt’s me, Frank.”
    â€œOh.” It was Beach Freeman’s voice. “All right, Frank.”
    Beach struck a match then, and the fire, already laid,