the Rider Of Ruby Hills (1986) Read Online Free
Author: Louis L'amour
Most of them are pretty good at description. A man down in the Live Oak country who never left it knows how the sheriff looks in Julesburg and exactly where the corrals are in Dodge."
Haney took a deep breath and then continued his story.
"Well, I've been studying this situation quite a spell," he said. "An old buffalo hunter and occasional trapper was in this country once, and he told me about it when I was a kid. It struck me as a place I'd like to live, so I planned accordingly. I learned all I could about it, rode for outfits oftentimes just because some puncher on the spread had worked over here. Then I ran into Vin Carter. He was born here. He told me all about it, and I got more from him than from any of them. While I was riding north with a herd of cattle, Emmett Chubb moved in, picked a fight with the kid, and killed him. And I think Walt Pogue paid him to do it!"
"So it goes further than the fact that I'm range hungry, and I'll admit I am. I want my own spread. But Vin rode with me and we fought sandstorms and blizzards together from Texas to Montana and back. So I'm a man on the prod. Before I get through I'll own me a ranch in this country, a nice ranch with nice buildings, and then I'll get a wife and settle down."
Scott's eyes glinted. "It's a big order, son! Gosh, if I was twenty years younger, I'd throw in with you! I sure would!"
"There's no man I'd want more, Scotty, but this is my fight, and I'll make it alone. You can stake me to eating money, if you want, and I'll need some forty-fours."
The older man nodded assent. "You can have them, an' willin'. Have you got a plan?"
Haney nodded. "It's already started. I've filed on Thousand Springs."
Scott came off his chair, his face a mask of incredulity. "You what?"
"I filed a claim, an' I've staked her out and started to prove up." Ross was smiling over his coffee, enjoying Scott's astonishment.
"But, man! That's sheer suicide! That's right in the middle of Chalk's best range! That waterhole is worth a fortune! A dozen fortunes! That's what half the fighting is about!"
"I know it." Haney was calm. "I knew that before I came in here. That palouse of mine never moved a step until I had my plan of action all staked out. And I bought the Bullhorn."
This time astonishment was beyond the storekeeper. "How could you buy it? Gov'ment land, ain't it?"
"No. That's what they all seem to think. Even Vin Carter thought so, but it was part of a Spanish grant. I found that out by checking through some old records. So I hunted up a Mexican down in the Big Bend country who owned it. I bought it from him, bought three hundred acres, taking in the whole Bullhorn headquarters spread, the waterhole, and the cliffs in back of it. That includes most of that valley where Pogue cuts his meadow hay."
"Well, I'm forever bushed! If that don't beat all!" Scott tapped thoughtfully with his pipe bowl. Then he looked up. "What about Hitson Spring?"
"That's another thing I want to talk to you about. You own it."
"I do, eh? How did you come to think that?"
"Met an old sidewinder down in Laredo named Smite Emmons. He was pretty drunk one night, and he told me how foolish you were to file claim on that land. Said you could have bought it from the Indians just as cheap."
Scott chuckled. "I did. I bought it from the Indians, too. Believe me, son, nobody around here knows that. It would be a death sentence!"
"Then sell it to me. I'll give you my note for five thousand right now."
"Your note, eh?" Scott chuckled. "Son, you'd better get killed. It will be cheaper to bury you than pay up." He tapped his pipe bowl again. "Tell you what I'll do. I'll take your note for five hundred and the fun of watching what happens."
Solemnly, Ross Haney wrote out a note and handed it to Scott. The old man chuckled as he read it.
I hereby agree to pay on or before the 15 th of March, 1877, to Westbrook Scott, the sum of five hundred dollars and the fun of watching what happens for the 160 acres of
Haney took a deep breath and then continued his story.
"Well, I've been studying this situation quite a spell," he said. "An old buffalo hunter and occasional trapper was in this country once, and he told me about it when I was a kid. It struck me as a place I'd like to live, so I planned accordingly. I learned all I could about it, rode for outfits oftentimes just because some puncher on the spread had worked over here. Then I ran into Vin Carter. He was born here. He told me all about it, and I got more from him than from any of them. While I was riding north with a herd of cattle, Emmett Chubb moved in, picked a fight with the kid, and killed him. And I think Walt Pogue paid him to do it!"
"So it goes further than the fact that I'm range hungry, and I'll admit I am. I want my own spread. But Vin rode with me and we fought sandstorms and blizzards together from Texas to Montana and back. So I'm a man on the prod. Before I get through I'll own me a ranch in this country, a nice ranch with nice buildings, and then I'll get a wife and settle down."
Scott's eyes glinted. "It's a big order, son! Gosh, if I was twenty years younger, I'd throw in with you! I sure would!"
"There's no man I'd want more, Scotty, but this is my fight, and I'll make it alone. You can stake me to eating money, if you want, and I'll need some forty-fours."
The older man nodded assent. "You can have them, an' willin'. Have you got a plan?"
Haney nodded. "It's already started. I've filed on Thousand Springs."
Scott came off his chair, his face a mask of incredulity. "You what?"
"I filed a claim, an' I've staked her out and started to prove up." Ross was smiling over his coffee, enjoying Scott's astonishment.
"But, man! That's sheer suicide! That's right in the middle of Chalk's best range! That waterhole is worth a fortune! A dozen fortunes! That's what half the fighting is about!"
"I know it." Haney was calm. "I knew that before I came in here. That palouse of mine never moved a step until I had my plan of action all staked out. And I bought the Bullhorn."
This time astonishment was beyond the storekeeper. "How could you buy it? Gov'ment land, ain't it?"
"No. That's what they all seem to think. Even Vin Carter thought so, but it was part of a Spanish grant. I found that out by checking through some old records. So I hunted up a Mexican down in the Big Bend country who owned it. I bought it from him, bought three hundred acres, taking in the whole Bullhorn headquarters spread, the waterhole, and the cliffs in back of it. That includes most of that valley where Pogue cuts his meadow hay."
"Well, I'm forever bushed! If that don't beat all!" Scott tapped thoughtfully with his pipe bowl. Then he looked up. "What about Hitson Spring?"
"That's another thing I want to talk to you about. You own it."
"I do, eh? How did you come to think that?"
"Met an old sidewinder down in Laredo named Smite Emmons. He was pretty drunk one night, and he told me how foolish you were to file claim on that land. Said you could have bought it from the Indians just as cheap."
Scott chuckled. "I did. I bought it from the Indians, too. Believe me, son, nobody around here knows that. It would be a death sentence!"
"Then sell it to me. I'll give you my note for five thousand right now."
"Your note, eh?" Scott chuckled. "Son, you'd better get killed. It will be cheaper to bury you than pay up." He tapped his pipe bowl again. "Tell you what I'll do. I'll take your note for five hundred and the fun of watching what happens."
Solemnly, Ross Haney wrote out a note and handed it to Scott. The old man chuckled as he read it.
I hereby agree to pay on or before the 15 th of March, 1877, to Westbrook Scott, the sum of five hundred dollars and the fun of watching what happens for the 160 acres of
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