Flint (1960) Read Online Free Page B

seemed about to speak. The train slowed and steam drifted past the windows. She picked up her bag and walked down the aisle.
    Conscious of being stared at, she glanced at a stocky man in a broadcloth suit and derby hat, his florid face and glassy blue eyes directed at her with singularly disagreeable attention. She averted her eyes, yet she had a feeling his interest was not entirely due to the fact that she was a woman.
    When she descended to the platform Ed Flynn was waiting for her near the corner of the freight depot.
    Nancy Kerrigan was a girl who found her home attractive. She had gone to school in the East, but for her the world revolved around Alamitos, the high plains of her own ranch, her cattle, the men who worked for her, and particularly, the wild, free country.
    She had lived at Kaybar most of her life except for her time at school, and a few visits to friends, and for her it had always seemed the ultimate in security. Now that security was menaced in a way she had never believed would be possible. And with it, her whole future was at stake.
    Ed Flynn took the bag from her hand and started toward the buckboard. Flynn had come West with her father and uncle, and had helped to found the Kaybar. Since her father's death he had been foreman. No businessman, he was nevertheless an excellent cattleman, understanding range conditions and the fattening of cattle as few men did.
    She drew his attention to the straw-haired gunman. Flynn put her bag in the buckboard and then said quietly, "Whoever is paying the bills is going first class. That's Buckdun."
    The name was legend. Buck Dunn, shortened by common usage to Buckdun, was known wherever range riders gathered. A professional fighting man, at times a bounty hunter, rarely a town-tamer, he was always a hunter and killer of men.
    Nancy Kerrigan was familiar with cow-country gossip. Often enough the fighting in cattle or sheep wars was done by the hands on the job, without importing gunmen, and many a rancher was prepared to handle his own shooting chores. But when men like Buckdun came to town, somebody was preparing for war.
    As Flynn helped Nancy into the buckboard she saw him glance across the street, and two Kaybar men sauntered from the walk in front of the store and got into their saddles. They were Pete Gaddis and Johnny Otero.
    "Armed escort?"
    Ed Flynn nodded grimly. "Two weeks has done a lot to this country."
    "Has there been trouble?"
    "Nugent lost fifty head of steers. He trailed them south along the malpais and then they just seemed to drop off the world."
    "Rustlers?" Nancy was incredulous.
    "When your father and I came into this country we didn't have a neighbor within a hundred miles in any direction, leaving out Indians, but this country is changing fast. Yes, there are rustlers working now. For the first time."
    Nancy waved at Gaddis and Otero.
    Johnny Otero had grown up on the Kaybar where his father had been one of their first hands. He was New Mexican, his family coming up from Mexico more than a hundred years before. On his mother's side the family had been living around Santa Fe since before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. Now nineteen, Johnny was considered the best rifle shot in the country.
    Pete Gaddis had been at the ranch only four years, the newest of their hands with one exception, and he had a reputation for being a tough man, in any kind of a fight. Gaddis had been a shotgun guard on the Cheyenne to Deadwood stage, deputy marshal in a tough cowtown, and a warrior in more than one range war. A short, solidly built man, he was a top hand.
    Flynn struck a match with his left hand and cupped it in his left palm to his cigar. "Burris and two strangers filed a homestead on a piece of Nugent's range, claiming it was government land and open for filing," he said. "You know Tom Nugent. He flew off the handle and burned them out and there was a shooting. The homesteaders showed fight and shot a Nugent rider out of the saddle. One of the