[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
range clothes to town if he had anything else, unless he was working.
There were a few farmers in their wagons, usually with their wives and
youngsters. Most of them wore flat-heeled boots and suspenders, and they
didn't have much to do with the cowboys. The old honkytonks in Fisher's
Addition had been closed, and the houses were licensed, like the saloons.
It was a lesson to a man just to stand there and watch folks go by; it was
the well-dressed men to whom folks paid the mostmind .
"How you figure to get your hat?" Jim asked.
"Why, I'll try to get it without trouble. But if they want trouble, they're
going to get it."
He gave me a sharp glance. "You know how to use that gun?" He lit a
cigarette. "If you aren't almighty good with it, you'd better not open the
ball, believe me. Andy Miller is good, and chances are that man riding the
black horse is just as good maybe better."
"I can use it," I told him. "I don't know if I use it well enough I guess
I've got to pay to find out." Then I added, "If there's gunplay, they'll have
to start it. But I've got an idea that I can pull it off without a fight."
"What do we do?"
Page 22
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"We wait. Meanwhile we scout around and try to locate the herd."
"Where were they going?" he asked. "Were they going to sell out here?"
It was a question I should have asked myself, for what had they to gain by
selling inAbilene ? I was the one who stood to gain by that; and for all they
knew, I might be dead. They might decide to sell out and call an end to it,
but they might recapture their dream.
"They were talking of a green valley somewhere out west," I said. "A place
folks had told them about."
Jim smiled. "Isn't that what we're all hunting for?A green valley somewhere?"
Suddenly I saw him coming down the street Wild Bill himself. He was a tall,
finely built man with a drooping mustache. He wore a black hat, a black,
tailored suit, and a red sash with pistols thrust behind it. He was walking in
our direction, and I faced him squarely.
He looked straight at me. I was a stranger, but there was no wariness in his
eyes, only that cool attention he gave every man. I knew he was good. You
could feel it. "Mr.Hickok ?" I said.
"Yes?"
"Mr.Hickok , I'm Otis Tom Chancy. I'd like to talk to you for a minute."
He glanced from me to JimBigbear . "Howdy Jim," he said quietly."This man a
friend of yours?"
"Yes, he is."
He turned back to me. "What is it, then?" Briefly, I explained about the bill
of sale for the herd, how I'd been slugged, and my hat taken. I told him who
the man was who'd done it, and about Andy Miller. And then I told him how I
hoped to get my hat back. He listened, watching me carefully all the while.
Then he said, "Why tell me all this?"
"Because this is your town.You keep the peace here, and I'm a man who
respects the law. If the man who did it wants trouble he can have it, outside
of town. I wanted you to know I wasn't hunting trouble. But I want my hat
back, and what's in it."
"Have you any proof the hat is yours?" So I explained about that, and about
the bill of sale. "All right," he said finally. "I'll be around."
After he had walked on up the street, I looked at Jim. "You didn't tell me
you knew him," I said.
"Didn't figure it mattered.We were scouts for the army at the same time, a
few years back. He's a good man."
And just then I saw them.
Three men came out of a saloon together: a short, thickset mar; with his vest
torn in the back; a slender, wiry man with a still, cold face, reddish hair,
and a few freckles; and a third one tall, and good-looking in a rakish,
hell-for-leather sort of way. And this one wore my hat.
Page 23
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
JimBigbear straightened up, blocking my view. "Don't look at them," he said.
"That'sCaxton Kelsey."
Well, I didn't know the names of many folks in this part of the country, but
I'd heard tell ofCaxton Kelsey on my way toSanta Fe , and since. He was a
gunfighter, and by all accounts a holy terror. He'd killed six or seven men
that folks knew of, and he was accounted a bad man to tangle with.
So I just stood still there, giving it some thought. I had used guns since I
was old enough to hold one level and take aim, but I'd never considered myself
a gunfighter or anything of the sort. I'd been around, I'd shot rifles at
Indians when they attacked our freight outfits, but so far as I knew the only [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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range clothes to town if he had anything else, unless he was working.
There were a few farmers in their wagons, usually with their wives and
youngsters. Most of them wore flat-heeled boots and suspenders, and they
didn't have much to do with the cowboys. The old honkytonks in Fisher's
Addition had been closed, and the houses were licensed, like the saloons.
It was a lesson to a man just to stand there and watch folks go by; it was
the well-dressed men to whom folks paid the mostmind .
"How you figure to get your hat?" Jim asked.
"Why, I'll try to get it without trouble. But if they want trouble, they're
going to get it."
He gave me a sharp glance. "You know how to use that gun?" He lit a
cigarette. "If you aren't almighty good with it, you'd better not open the
ball, believe me. Andy Miller is good, and chances are that man riding the
black horse is just as good maybe better."
"I can use it," I told him. "I don't know if I use it well enough I guess
I've got to pay to find out." Then I added, "If there's gunplay, they'll have
to start it. But I've got an idea that I can pull it off without a fight."
"What do we do?"
Page 22
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"We wait. Meanwhile we scout around and try to locate the herd."
"Where were they going?" he asked. "Were they going to sell out here?"
It was a question I should have asked myself, for what had they to gain by
selling inAbilene ? I was the one who stood to gain by that; and for all they
knew, I might be dead. They might decide to sell out and call an end to it,
but they might recapture their dream.
"They were talking of a green valley somewhere out west," I said. "A place
folks had told them about."
Jim smiled. "Isn't that what we're all hunting for?A green valley somewhere?"
Suddenly I saw him coming down the street Wild Bill himself. He was a tall,
finely built man with a drooping mustache. He wore a black hat, a black,
tailored suit, and a red sash with pistols thrust behind it. He was walking in
our direction, and I faced him squarely.
He looked straight at me. I was a stranger, but there was no wariness in his
eyes, only that cool attention he gave every man. I knew he was good. You
could feel it. "Mr.Hickok ?" I said.
"Yes?"
"Mr.Hickok , I'm Otis Tom Chancy. I'd like to talk to you for a minute."
He glanced from me to JimBigbear . "Howdy Jim," he said quietly."This man a
friend of yours?"
"Yes, he is."
He turned back to me. "What is it, then?" Briefly, I explained about the bill
of sale for the herd, how I'd been slugged, and my hat taken. I told him who
the man was who'd done it, and about Andy Miller. And then I told him how I
hoped to get my hat back. He listened, watching me carefully all the while.
Then he said, "Why tell me all this?"
"Because this is your town.You keep the peace here, and I'm a man who
respects the law. If the man who did it wants trouble he can have it, outside
of town. I wanted you to know I wasn't hunting trouble. But I want my hat
back, and what's in it."
"Have you any proof the hat is yours?" So I explained about that, and about
the bill of sale. "All right," he said finally. "I'll be around."
After he had walked on up the street, I looked at Jim. "You didn't tell me
you knew him," I said.
"Didn't figure it mattered.We were scouts for the army at the same time, a
few years back. He's a good man."
And just then I saw them.
Three men came out of a saloon together: a short, thickset mar; with his vest
torn in the back; a slender, wiry man with a still, cold face, reddish hair,
and a few freckles; and a third one tall, and good-looking in a rakish,
hell-for-leather sort of way. And this one wore my hat.
Page 23
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
JimBigbear straightened up, blocking my view. "Don't look at them," he said.
"That'sCaxton Kelsey."
Well, I didn't know the names of many folks in this part of the country, but
I'd heard tell ofCaxton Kelsey on my way toSanta Fe , and since. He was a
gunfighter, and by all accounts a holy terror. He'd killed six or seven men
that folks knew of, and he was accounted a bad man to tangle with.
So I just stood still there, giving it some thought. I had used guns since I
was old enough to hold one level and take aim, but I'd never considered myself
a gunfighter or anything of the sort. I'd been around, I'd shot rifles at
Indians when they attacked our freight outfits, but so far as I knew the only [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]