replied.
âI can stick around for a few weeks,â Falcon said. âLet me settle up for my meal and Iâll follow you out to your ranch.â
âNot even goinâ to ask what we pay?â Kip questioned.
âNo. Three hots and a cot will do me for a few weeks.â
âYouâre mighty easy to please, Mr. Mack,â John said.
âOh, Iâm really a very easygoing fellow,â Falcon replied with a smile.
âSoâs a grizzly,â Kip said very drily. âTill you mess with it.â
Falcon chuckled. âOddly enough, thatâs what some folks used to say about my pa.â
âHe must have been an interestinâ man,â John said.
âOh, I think youâd be safe in saying that. Yes, sir. A real interesting man.â
* * *
John Baileyâs ranch was not small by anyoneâs standards, and he was running a pretty good sized head. Problem was, as John had explained on the ride out, he couldnât get them to market âcause he couldnât hire hands.... Miles Gilman had put out the word and that was that in this part of the country.
Falcon smiled when he first saw the brand: the Rockingchair. John watched the smile form on Falconâs lips and chuckled.
âYou like that brand, Val?â
âI do. Thatâll be difficult to change into anything else.â
âYou seen the Gilman brand?â Kip asked.
âNo.â
âStriking snake. A really ugly brand.â
âAnother unusual one.â
âIt fits him just right,â John said. âMiles is a human rattlesnake.â
The ranch house came into view, and it was a nice, strongly built home, plain, but practical. The bunkhouse sat off to one side. There was smoke coming from the ranch house chimney.
âCookie,â Kip explained. âHeâs too crippled up to ride much, but heâs a good cook. And he hates Miles Gilman.â
âToo many broncs bust him up?â
âNo,â John said. âMiles Gilman crippled him with a shotgun. Shot him in the legs. Cookie can get around, but he limps badly. And heâs got a touch of old age cominâ on him, too. But heâs a damn good man. He wouldnât back up from a puma.â
âYou real particular about your hands, John?â Falcon asked.
The rancher gave him a quizzical look. âI donât follow you, Val.â
âWell, I know some old boys who donât scare worth a damn. But they arenât really cowboys.â
âCan they sit a horse?â
âThey can ride anything with hair on it. Including a grizzly bear.â
John gave him another funny look and nodded his head. âBut they would ride for the brand?â
âOne hundred and ten percent.â
âHow long would it take for you to get them here?â
âWhereâs the nearest telegraph office?â
âIn town. But town is dangerous.â
âWhatâs the name of this town?â
âGilman.â
Falcon laughed. He should have guessed. âOh . . . I can have them here in a couple of weeks. Give us a couple of weeks to round up the cattle, and we can have them on the trail to the railhead.â
âHow many of these men can you get?â Kip asked.
âOh ... six, maybe seven. But I have to warn you, theyâre not spring chickens. Theyâll be men mostly in their late fifties and early sixties. Maybe a couple older than that.â
John gave him another very curious glance as they rode up to the ranch house. âYouâre sure they can stand up to a cattle drive, Val?â
âIâm sure.â
âWell,â the rancher said. âHell, get them. I sure ainât got nothinâ to lose.â
âIâll ride into town first thing in the morning. Iâll leave early and get there just as the telegraph office is opening.â
âSon,â John said, âthat town is a death trap.â
âWeâll see,â