Galloway (1970) Read Online Free
Author: Louis - Sackett's 16 L'amour
horse stopped him. He looked at the brand and whistled softly.
Originally the brand must have been a Clover Three, but now it was a Flower. A reverse 3 had been faced to each of the other 3's, then another set had been added, a stem and tendrils to join the petals to the stem. The job was beautifully done, obviously by a rewrite man who knew his business and enjoyed it.
"That's a man I've got to see," Galloway muttered. "He'd wear a Sherman button to a Georgia picnic!"
He pushed open the door and stepped in, then walked to the bar. As he crossed the floor he saw four men sitting at a table together, obviously the Clover Three men. In a corner not far from the bar sat another man, alone.
He wore a fringed buckskin hunting shirt, under it a blue shirt, obviously either new or fresh. He wore a low-crowned black hat, and was smooth-shaved except for a reddish mustache, neatly trimmed and waxed.
The man in the buckskin shirt wore two pistols, one butt forward, one butt to the rear ... a tricky thing, for a man might draw with either hand or both guns at once. On the table were a bottle of wine, a glass, and a pack of cards.
Aside from the scruffy-looking man behind the bar there were two others in the room, a man in a dirty white shirt with sleeve garters, and a hairy old man in soiled buckskins.
Galloway Sackett, who had as much appreciation for situations as the next man, ordered rye and edged around the corner of the bar so he could watch what was happening ... if anything.
The four riders from the Clover Three looked embarrassed, while the lone man in the buckskin shirt drank his wine calmly, shuffled the cards and laid them out for solitaire, seemingly unconcerned.
Finally one of the Clover Three riders cleared his throat. "Quite a brand you got there, Mister."
Without lifting his eyes from the cards, the other man replied: "You are speaking to me, I presume? Yes, I rather fancy that brand." He glanced up, smiling pleasantly. "Covers yours like a blanket, doesn't it?"
Galloway was astonished, but the four riders only fidgeted, and then the same man said, "The boss wants to talk to you."
"Does he now? Well, you tell him to ride right on in ... if he has any horses left."
"I mean ... he's got a proposition for you. After all, it wasn't him--"
"Of course it wasn't. How could he be expected to account for all the stock on his ranches? You tell your boss to come right on into town. Tell him that I'll be waiting for him. Tell him I've been looking forward to our meeting. Tell him I've been wanting to say hello and goodbye."
"Look, Shadow," the Clover Three man protested, "the boss just doesn't have the time--"
"That's right, Will. Your boss doesn't have the time. In fact he is completely out of time." The man called Shadow placed a card, then glanced up. "You tell Fasten for me that if he will turn his remuda loose, fire his hands and ride off the range with what he can carry on his saddle he can go.
"Otherwise," Shadow added, "I will kill him."
Nobody said anything. Galloway Sackett tasted his rye and waited, as they all waited.
Then Will said, "Aw, give him a chance! You know he can't do that!"
"Fasten robbed a lot of people to build his herd. Some of the cattle were my cattle, some of the cattle had belonged to friends of mine. Some of those people are no longer alive to collect what he owes them, but I intend to see that he does not profit from it. You tell him he's got twenty-four hours ... no longer."
"Look here." One of the punchers started to rise. "You can't get away with that!
You--!"
"Twenty-four hours, gentlemen. You ride out and tell him that. I am through talking." His head turned ever so slightly. "As for you, I would suggest you either sit down or draw a gun. The choice is yours."
He spoke mildly, as one might in a polite conversation, and without stress.
Slowly, carefully, the puncher sat down.
Galloway Sackett tasted his rye again and when the bartender came near he said, "I'm hunting a
Originally the brand must have been a Clover Three, but now it was a Flower. A reverse 3 had been faced to each of the other 3's, then another set had been added, a stem and tendrils to join the petals to the stem. The job was beautifully done, obviously by a rewrite man who knew his business and enjoyed it.
"That's a man I've got to see," Galloway muttered. "He'd wear a Sherman button to a Georgia picnic!"
He pushed open the door and stepped in, then walked to the bar. As he crossed the floor he saw four men sitting at a table together, obviously the Clover Three men. In a corner not far from the bar sat another man, alone.
He wore a fringed buckskin hunting shirt, under it a blue shirt, obviously either new or fresh. He wore a low-crowned black hat, and was smooth-shaved except for a reddish mustache, neatly trimmed and waxed.
The man in the buckskin shirt wore two pistols, one butt forward, one butt to the rear ... a tricky thing, for a man might draw with either hand or both guns at once. On the table were a bottle of wine, a glass, and a pack of cards.
Aside from the scruffy-looking man behind the bar there were two others in the room, a man in a dirty white shirt with sleeve garters, and a hairy old man in soiled buckskins.
Galloway Sackett, who had as much appreciation for situations as the next man, ordered rye and edged around the corner of the bar so he could watch what was happening ... if anything.
The four riders from the Clover Three looked embarrassed, while the lone man in the buckskin shirt drank his wine calmly, shuffled the cards and laid them out for solitaire, seemingly unconcerned.
Finally one of the Clover Three riders cleared his throat. "Quite a brand you got there, Mister."
Without lifting his eyes from the cards, the other man replied: "You are speaking to me, I presume? Yes, I rather fancy that brand." He glanced up, smiling pleasantly. "Covers yours like a blanket, doesn't it?"
Galloway was astonished, but the four riders only fidgeted, and then the same man said, "The boss wants to talk to you."
"Does he now? Well, you tell him to ride right on in ... if he has any horses left."
"I mean ... he's got a proposition for you. After all, it wasn't him--"
"Of course it wasn't. How could he be expected to account for all the stock on his ranches? You tell your boss to come right on into town. Tell him that I'll be waiting for him. Tell him I've been looking forward to our meeting. Tell him I've been wanting to say hello and goodbye."
"Look, Shadow," the Clover Three man protested, "the boss just doesn't have the time--"
"That's right, Will. Your boss doesn't have the time. In fact he is completely out of time." The man called Shadow placed a card, then glanced up. "You tell Fasten for me that if he will turn his remuda loose, fire his hands and ride off the range with what he can carry on his saddle he can go.
"Otherwise," Shadow added, "I will kill him."
Nobody said anything. Galloway Sackett tasted his rye and waited, as they all waited.
Then Will said, "Aw, give him a chance! You know he can't do that!"
"Fasten robbed a lot of people to build his herd. Some of the cattle were my cattle, some of the cattle had belonged to friends of mine. Some of those people are no longer alive to collect what he owes them, but I intend to see that he does not profit from it. You tell him he's got twenty-four hours ... no longer."
"Look here." One of the punchers started to rise. "You can't get away with that!
You--!"
"Twenty-four hours, gentlemen. You ride out and tell him that. I am through talking." His head turned ever so slightly. "As for you, I would suggest you either sit down or draw a gun. The choice is yours."
He spoke mildly, as one might in a polite conversation, and without stress.
Slowly, carefully, the puncher sat down.
Galloway Sackett tasted his rye again and when the bartender came near he said, "I'm hunting a
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