Louis L'Amour Read Online Free

“I’m hunting a man named Tom Gatty,” I said.
    “Three like him, and I wouldn’t need anybody else for customers,” the druggist said. “He’s the strongest dying man I ever knew, but you’ve come too late. He went west … Medora, I think.”
    “Just my luck,” I said.
    The man came from behind the counter. “Youmight learn something from Duster Wyman. He handles Gatty’s local business.”
    The Gatty I knew had no head for business, nor for poker, either, when it came to that. “Last time I saw him he was punching cows,” I said. “We worked for the same outfit.”
    “That must have been several years ago. Mr. Gatty has been shipping cattle, trading in horses and mules. He’s done very well, I believe.”
    We found the Duster loafing in front of a saloon, and when I told him I was hunting Tom Gatty he got up carefully, and looked me over, and then looked Eddie over, too.
    “Just what do you want with him?” The Duster was carrying a gun, tucked back of his belt, under his coat. A rough guess told me that Duster Wyman was a pretty salty character; and if Gatty was trading in horses, mules, and cattle they must have some fancy work for brands. Come to think of it, Tom Gatty used to brag he could write a Spencerian hand with a cinch ring, so I began to understand some of the phases of his business.
    “As a matter of fact,” I explained, “I was hunting a road stake. Me an’ Eddie here, we’re broke and headed for Miles City. Tom was an old friend of mine. In fact, we came to Dakota together.”
    “What did you say your name was?”
    “Pike … they call me Pronto.”
    Well, his face cleared right up. He had been looking mighty suspicious until then. “Oh, sure! I’ve heard him speak of you.”
    He ran his hand down into his Levis and came up with a handful of silver dollars. He counted outten of them. “You take this,” he said. “I’ll get it back from Tom.”
    “Where’ll I find him?”
    “Well, he moves around a good deal. Don’t you go askin’ for him. If you want to see him, look around Miles City. You stay around a while and he’ll find you.”
    When we walked away from there, Eddie looked at the money with respect. “You got you some good friends,” he said.
    Me, I didn’t say anything, because I was wondering why the Duster was so quick to hand out ten dollars and say Tom would pay him back. Tom Gatty never had much money, but the way I remembered him he was mighty poor pay. Of course, that could have been because he never had much. Maybe he was doing better now.
    If he could afford having a man living around Jimtown like the Duster was, well, he was doing a lot better.
    But why ship from here? Why not from Miles City itself?
    We had ourselves a meal, and when we came out of the restaurant a man was standing on the curb. “Hello, Pike,” he said.
    It was that man Fargo that we’d last seen a couple of hundred miles east.
    “I figured you’d settle in eastern Dakota, with a town named for you,” I said.
    “It wasn’t named for me.” He took some cigars from his pocket and offered them. “Smoke?”
    It was a good cigar.
    He took one himself and we all lit up. Then he said, “You’re living good.”
    “We got a right.”
    “I was wondering how somebody broke enough to cut wood for a meal could suddenly pay cash for one.”
    “Look, mister, you ain’t the law here. You want to start something, you keep poking that long nose into my business.”
    He chuckled. “You have the best of me there. I can’t break yours. Somebody beat me to it.”
    Well, what could I do but laugh? My nose had been broken a couple of times. “The hell with it! You followin’ us?”
    “No. Just going west. Have you seen any more of Van Bokkelen?”
    Odd thing. I’d been so busy thinking about Tom Gatty that I’d forgotten all about Van Bokkelen.
    When I didn’t say anything, Fargo glanced at his cigar and commented, “Pike, you strike me as an honest man. Maybe a hard one to get