Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 05 - Law O' The Lariat(1935) by Oliver Strange Read Free Book Online

yu forget it. Now, go pound yore ear, little fat fella.”
                 Barton
beat a hasty retreat, and Severn grinned as he closed the door. They understood
each other very well, these two.

  Chapter
IV
                 THE
dismissal of two of the men he had sent to the Lazy M was regarded by
Bartholomew as an act of open defiance, and he lost no time in taking up the
challenge. The following afternoon found him reining in his mount by the
veranda of the Masters’ ranch-house. His hail brought out the owner.
                 “Hello,
Masters,” he greeted. “Come to take Phil ridin’, but first I want a word with
yu.”
                 He
dismounted with an ease one would not have expected in so bulky a man and
followed his host into the room.
                 “What’s
the idea in firin’ Devint an’ Ignacio?” he asked abruptly.
                 “Devint
was offered the job o’ straw-boss, went on the prod, an’ tried to pull a gun on
my foreman,” Masters explained. “The Greaser fired himself.”
                 “Well,
if yu didn’t like Devint, I could ‘a’ got yu someone else,” said the Bar B
owner. “Where’d yu come across this chap Severn?”
                 “Heard
of him in Desert Edge,” Masters replied. “‘Pears to be
capable.”
                 “Mebbe,”
returned Bartholomew coolly. “But I don’t like him, Masters, an’ he’s gotta
go.”
                 The
cattleman’s eyes flashed defiance for an instant, and then fell before the
implacable gaze of the man who was giving him orders.
                 He
goes to-morrow,” Bartholomew interjected. “An’ by the way, I’m shy seventy-five
three-year-olds for a trail herd; I’ll send over for ‘em in a coupla days’
time.”
                 The
cattleman raged inwardly; he would have given almost anything he possessed for
the power to pull his gun and shoot down the man who so ruthlessly rode him,
but that would not save him. More than once the tyrant had said, “As long as I
live yo’re safe, Masters.”
                 He
was saved the trouble of replying by the scurry of hoofs outside and the
appearance of Phil, mounted on a mettlesome cow-pony. The girl rode cowboy
style, almost standing in the stirrups, and her laughing face was flushed with
the effort to restrain the bunch of nerves and steel wire she bestrode. At her
gay call, Bartholomew mounted, wheeled his horse beside her, and they loped
away. Severn entered the bunkhouse as they passed.
                 “That
was yore new foreman, wasn’t it?” Bartholomew asked. “What do yu think of him,
Phil?”
                 “I
don’t think of him,” the young lady replied playfully, but not altogether
truthfully.
                 “Shucks,
then I needn’t ‘a’ worried,” said her escort. “Yu see, I’ve been advisin’ yore
father to get rid of him, an’ if yu’d lost yore heart—”
                 “My
affections are not so easily captured, Mr. Bartholomew,” she bantered back. “T
hope Daddy will take your advice.”
                 But
even as she said the words a doubt crossed her mind, for short as the time had
been, she fancied that her father had been more his old self since the arrival
of the new foreman.
                 Bartholomew,
satisfied that she was not interested in the newcomer, made no further
reference to him. From time to time his gaze rested possessively on the fresh
young beauty who rode beside him. He wanted her and was determined that she
should be his. Without openly making love, he had given more than a hint of his
hopes. There was a considerable difference in their ages, but, as he told
himself, he was still young, and had the additional attractions of wealth and
influence.
                 The
girl’s thoughts were on the same subject.