Where the Long Grass Blows (1976) Read Online Free Page A

you ... You'll need it"

    Chapter III
    When Bill Canavan had pocketed the two deeds, the old man refilled their cups.
    "Know what you've done? You've laid claim on the three best sources of water in the Valley, the only three that are sure-fire all year around. And what will they do when they find out? They'll kill you, that's what,"
    "Maybe they won't find out for a while. I don't plan on telling them until matters settle down a mite.
    Anyway, it's a wonder one of them didn't think of it on "his own. They're all so busy trying to take land from one another."
    "What about your claim stakes at Thousand Springs?"
    "Buried. Iron stakes driven deep into the ground.
    There's sod and grass over them."
    "What about proving up?"
    "You know how that spring operates? Actually, there's one great big spring back inside the mountain flowing out through the rocky face of the cliff in hundreds of tiny rivulets. Up atop that mesa there's a good stretch of land that falls into my claim, and back in the woods there was some land I could plow. I've broken that land, smoothed her out and I've put in a crop. I've got a trail to the top of the mesa and I've built a stone house up there. I'm in business, Scotty."
    Scott shook his head, unbelievingly. "I'll say this for you, Canavan. You've got nerve." He got up from the table and went into the store, and when he returned he had several boxes of .44's. "You'd best take those now, but when you come around in the morning you can stock up, grub and whatever you need."
    "I'll do it. Meanwhile, you keep track of what I owe and I'll settle every cent before this is over."
    "Better make a cache or two," Scott suggested, "hide out an extra gun and some ammunition.
    Maybe a blanket and some grub. Some place you can get to without trouble. Once they find out what you've done, you'll be on the run."
    With money in his pocket Bill Canavan returned to the street. For a moment he stood in the shadows to see if he was observed, but as far as he could see the street was empty and there was no one watching.
    He stepped out on the street and crossed to the Bit and Bridle.
    The bartender glanced at him, then put a bottle on the bar in front of him, and a glass. He was a short man who looked fat, but after noticing the corded forearms, bulging with muscle, Canavan decided little of it could be fat.
    A couple of cowhands down the bar were talking lazily, and there was a poker game in progress at a table. Several other men sat around at tables or at benches along the wall. It was the usual crowd to be found in any cattle country saloon.
    He had poured his drink and was holding it between his thumb and forefinger when the bat-wing doors behind him opened and he heard a click of heels on the floor. He knew no one here and was expecting no one, so he neither turned nor looked around. He regarded the drink for a moment, then tossed it off. He had never been what might be called a drinking man, and did not intend to drink much tonight The footsteps halted behind him, and a quick, clipped voice asked, "Are you the chap who owns that fast Appaloosa?"
    He turned half around. There was no need to guess that this was Tom Venable. He was a tall, well set-up young man who was like his sister, with that imperious lift to his chin, but unlike her in his quick, decisive manner.
    "I own an Appaloosa," Canavan said. "Some folks think him fast"
    "My sister is outside. She wants to speak to you."
    "I don't want to speak to her. You can tell her that." He glanced at the bottle, wondering if he wanted another drink.
    What happened then happened so fast it caught him off balance. A hard hand grasped him by the shoulder and spun him around in a grip of iron, and he was startled by the strength in that slim hand.
    Tom Venable's eyes were hot with anger.
    "I said, my sister wants to speak to you."
    "And I said I did not want to speak to her."
    Bill Canavan spoke slowly, evenly. "Now take your hand off me, and don't ever lay a hand on me