Novel 1971 - Tucker (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Read Free Book Online

potatoes.
    “Guns don’t count in this place,” Con continued. “Here it is intelligence, energy, the ability to begin and complete a job. Those are the things that matter.”
    He waved a hand around the room. “Some of them will make it big, some will fail, but all are trying. They are making money, but they are building a nation in the process. They will make mistakes…one always does when one moves fast, but they will accomplish a great deal, too. When a man opens a mine, builds a mill or a railroad, he has not only done something for himself but he has opened a way for others to make a living, many of whom he will never know or see; often they will live far from him or what he has done.
    “We won’t have a perfect country until we have perfect people, but we can try.”
    “That’s all well enough, Con, but I’ve got to get my money back. Will they help me?”
    He smiled. “No. Everybody rides his own broncs, Shell, and well you know it. They won’t help you because that’s your business, but they will be watching to see how you do it, and how you do it will be remembered. And there is something else. If you handle this in a straight-forward manner, you’ll have all their weight behind you when the shooting is over…and it can make a difference.
    “If a stranger, a drifting cowhand, comes into town and shoots somebody he may get pretty rough handling before anybody knows the why of it. Western men are inclined to be abrupt. So now they know about you. They know your story and what you’ll be doing.
    “There’s one other man I want you to meet,” Con added, “but he doesn’t often come here. Tonight he has. I heard he would be coming here tonight; once several years ago I helped him out of a tight corner.”
    A man loomed up over the table, and I looked up. He was a big man, with hard, red-rimmed eyes. He was unshaven and he was dressed roughly, with food stains on his coat and vest. He wore a gun and a badge.
    “Mart Duggan…Shell Tucker.”
    He stared at me, and I felt uncomfortable under those hot, rather cruel-looking eyes. “Howdy,” he said briefly. “Heard about you,” he added. “Round ’em up if you’re of a mind to—you’ll have no trouble from me.”
    He glanced over at Con and a slow smile warmed his face. “Good to see you, Judy. If this man is a friend of yours, he’s a friend of mine.”
    Turning abruptly, he walked across to the door and left.
    “Mart Duggan,” Con said, “is the law in Leadville at the moment. He’s about as friendly as a grizzly bear with a sore tooth. He’ll shoot a man as quick as look at him, and he doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything on earth.”
    “He won’t help me either?”
    “No. But now he will stay off your back while you’re settling your affairs.”
    I stood up. It began to look as if I had it to do. I was all jumpy inside, and my mouth was dry, but it was all laid out for me. In this country a man did what he had to do, and if he wasn’t big enough for the job, he could always figure on a nice funeral if he died game.
    “I’m going back to the Clarendon,” I said, “and change clothes. Then I’m going to hunt until I find them.”
    Con Judy got up, too. “We’ll both look,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to face all three of them alone.”
    State Street was where the gamblers and the shady ladies were. The Little Casino, the Odeon, the Bucket of Blood, the Bon Ton, and the Pioneer—we made them all.
    We ran into Minnie Purdy, Frankie Page, and Sallie Purple, some of the town’s leading madams, and we saw Soapy Smith, Charlie Tanner, and Broken-Nose Scotty, all well known around town. But we saw neither hide nor hair of Reese, Sites, or Heseltine.
    At Madame Vestal’s place on State Street we took a table where we could watch the dancing. When the madame saw Con she walked over.
    “How are you, Con? Are you going to stay around long?”
    “That depends, Belle. Sit down, won’t you?”
    She sat down and looked