The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume 2 by Louis L’Amour Read Free Book Online Page A

you. He didn’t know you were Clip Haynes at first.
    â€œI told him,” Wade continued, “never suspecting he was the guilty one behind all this. He knew he couldn’t fool you. Felt he’d given himself away somehow. He confessed before he died.”
    Clip nodded. “At first—at the mine. He said Clip Haynes got ten thousand. Only the law and the bandits knew it was that much.” Clip paused, a wan smile twisting his features. “He was the one planned that job—not Haynes. I was the law. The express company hired me. When he said that, I was suspicious.”
    Clip closed his eyes, and lay very still. When he opened them again everyone was gone but Ruth. She was smiling, and she leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips.
    â€œAnd Rafe?” he questioned.
    â€œI tried to explain, but you ran away. He’s my uncle—my mother’s brother. He started Wade in business here, but no one knew. He thought it might hurt Wade if people knew a gambler backed him.”
    â€œOh,” he said. For a moment he was silent. Then he looked up, and they both smiled.
    â€œThat’s nice,” he said.

Man Riding West
    Three men were hunkered down by the fire when Jim Gary walked his buckskin up to their camp in the lee of the cliff. The big man across the fire had a shotgun lying beside him. It was the shotgun that made Gary uneasy, for cowhands do not carry shotguns, especially when on a trail drive, as these men obviously were.
    Early as it was, the cattle were already bedded down for the night in the meadow alongside the stream, and from their looks they had come far and fast. It was still light, but the clouds were low and swollen with rain.
    â€œHow’s for some coffee?” Jim asked as he drew up. “I’m ridin’ through, an’ I’m sure hungry an’ tuckered.”
    Somewhere off in the mountains, thunder rolled and grumbled. The fire crackled, and the leaves on the willows hung still in the lifeless air. There were three saddled horses nearby, and among the gear was an old Mother Hubbard–style saddle with a wide skirt.
    â€œLight an’ set up.” The man who spoke was lean jawed and sandy haired. “Never liked to ride on an empty stomach, m’self.”
    More than ever, Gary felt uneasy. Neither of the others spoke. All were tough-looking men, unshaven and dirty, but it was their hard-eyed suspicion that made Jim wonder. However, he swung down and loosened his saddle girth and then slipped the saddle off and laid it well back under the overhang of the cliff. As he did so he glanced again at the old saddle that lay there.
    The overhang of the cliff was deep where the fire was built for shelter from the impending rain. Jim dropped to an ancient log, gray and stripped of bark, and handed his tin plate over to the man who reached for it. The cook slapped two thick slabs of beef on the plate and some frying-pan bread liberally touched with the beef fryings. Gary was hungry and he dove in without comment, and the small man filled his cup.
    â€œHeaded west?” The sandy-haired man asked, after a few minutes.
    â€œYeah, headed down below the rim. Pleasant Valley way.”
    The men all turned their heads toward him but none spoke. Jim could feel their eyes on his tied-down guns. There was a sheep and cattle war in the valley.
    â€œThey call me Red Slagle. These hombres are Tobe Langer and Jeeter Dirksen. We’re drivin’ to Salt Creek.”
    Langer would be the big one. “My name’s Gary,” Jim replied. “Jim Gary. I’m from points yonder. Mostly Dodge an’ Santa Fe.”
    â€œHear they are hirin’ warriors in Pleasant Valley.”
    â€œReckon.” Jim refused to be drawn, although he had the feeling they had warmed to him since he mentioned heading for the valley.
    â€œRidin’ thataway ourselves,” Red suggested. “Want to make a few dollars drivin’ cattle?