Rattler. Barry Andrew Chambers

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ stagnant water, watching me with wide eyes. “I’ll put a study to your problem. That’s all I can promise. If a solution can be found, I’ll let you know.”

      They both gave me sober nods and slowly headed out of the room. Watching them, I was reminded of a Shakespeare play called Romeo and Juliet. Centuries after it was written, the play still related to modern times. I also remembered it did not end well.

      I rode up to see Jed Spurlock that afternoon. He was not happy that a wet-behind-the-ears teacher was sticking his nose into his ranching business.

      “You learned Treva pretty good, Teacher. But you don’t know nothing about running cattle.”

      “Yes sir, but how do you know it was the McMahons who stole your cows?”

      Jed gave me a mean smile. “Angus McMahon is crooked as Snake River in winter. I’ll bet my granny’s glass eye that there are cattle with the Spurlock brand, grazing on the plains of Mexico right now.”

      Since Mexico was pretty far from Colorado, I was tempted to take that bet and teach Jed a little geography as well. A man never knows when he’ll need a glass eye.

      “But sir, I—”

      Jed held up his hand. “The McMahon’s took several prize heifers and sold them. Check around town and see if they haven’t been throwing newfound money around.”

      I could see I was talking to a stone wall. I doffed my hat at Spurlock and thanked him for his time.

      “You keep your nose in your books young man,” said Jed. “If Angus and his thieves come back for more, there will be blood in the streets.”

      I stopped. “How do you know they’ll be back?”

      “I’m short hands. Half my men headed for New Mexico territory for that silver strike.”

      A vein of silver had been discovered near the Gila River down south. Half of Colorado moved in that direction to get rich. Even Mr. Conklin, the staid banker of Pleasant Valley got the fever. He packed up his wife and dogs and put his son-in-law in charge of the Valley Bank.

      Spurlock spat into his tin cup. “I’m trying to keep my herds close, but I don’t have enough men to keep watch all night.”

      This gave me an idea. “Excuse me sir, but maybe I could help.”

      Spurlock looked unconvinced. “How?”

      “I’ll bet I could round up some extra men to watch over your herd. Let me have a couple nights while your men get their sleep.”

      Jed Spurlock’s face was still as he mentally looked for an argument to this. Apparently, none came to him. “Okay son. My men are tired. But if any cattle are stolen, I’ll be after you along with the McMahons.”

      We shook on it.

      The next day, I rode over to see Angus McMahon. Although some of the McMahon clan had gone to seek silver Angus was known for ignoring dreams, schemes and pots of gold. He supposedly kept his money in jars buried on various parts of his land.

      I had the feeling of being watched and, as I came to a fork in the road, I heard the click of a trigger. I stopped and held up my hands.

      The voice behind me was gruff and hard. “If you take the right fork, you’ll find the house of McMahon. If you take a left, you’ll come to the clear pool and lush green pasture…also owned by McMahon.”

      A man, whose voice sounded older than he was, emerged from the bushes. His hair was flaming red, as were his eyes. It was disquieting to have a rifle pointed at me by a man who looked like he hadn’t slept for a couple days.

      “Either way you go, you’re on McMahon property. State your business.”

      “I came to see Angus McMahon.”

      “That doesn’t tell me your business.”

      Before I could speak, Danny came riding down the road. “Mr. Foster! Hey, Mr. Foster!”

      The man with the rifle gave Danny a scowl. “You know this fella, Danny?”

      “He’s Mr. Foster, my teacher.”

      The man lowered his rifle. A look of distant respect crept into his face. “Oh, sorry Teacher. I didn’t recognize you without your chalkboard.” He guffawed at his own witticism and I smiled, lowering my hands.

      Danny gestured to the man. “This is my brother, Alfie. He’s watching out for Spurlocks or their agents.”

      “Glad to know you Alfie.”

      Danny grabbed the reins of my horse. “Come on Mr. Foster. I’ll take you to see Pa.”

      The McMahon farm was a quarter mile down the road. As we turned a bend, I caught sight of a stable with a charred wall. Four redheaded men were replacing it. All four stopped their hammering and stared at me. When Danny waved them off, they went back to their work.

      Angus McMahon was about as receptive to my invitation to help as was Spurlock. He tapped his corncob pipe impatiently without offering me a seat.

      “There’s nothing you can do young Foster. This feud has been building for years. It’s about time we took those sons of bitches to task!”

      To McMahon, they weren’t Spurlocks. They were sons of bitches and Jed was the head son of a bitch.

      I continued gamely on. “But Mr. McMahon, think of Danny here.”

      After introducing us, Danny had sat respectfully silent in the corner.

      “Wouldn’t you like peace with the Spur…uh, sons of bitches?”

      Angus shook his head.

      I pressed on. “Wouldn’t it be much better if Danny or Alfie or any of your sons could go to town without worrying about getting into a fight, maybe killed?”

      Angus puffed furiously on his pipe, muttering “sons of bitches.”

      I pled my case. “Mr. McMahon. What would you think if that son of a bitch sent his sons over here to repair your stable and henhouse?”

      McMahon froze. Smoke floated over his head. Then, he burst out laughing. “You’re plain loco!” He looked over at Danny as he pointed his pipe at me. “He’s plain loco!”

      “Mr. McMahon, I know you didn’t steal any cattle.”

      He stopped laughing. “How would you know that Teacher?”

      “Coming up the trail, I saw no tracks…unless your sons herded cows through the woods and mountains. That’s highly unlikely. You have no meat storage. I see no hides being tanned.”

      Angus McMahon stared holes in me. “Who says we didn’t steal ’em, then sell ’em?”

      I shrugged. “From what Treva told me, we’re talking about a hundred head of cattle. You could have taken them straight to a buyer somewhere, but you’re too smart for that.”

СКАЧАТЬ