Buchanan 1: Buchanan's War (A Buchanan Western) by Jonas Ward

Author:Jonas Ward [Ward, Jonas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing
Published: 2018-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

Seven

The early morning sun hung on a mountaintop. Buchanan sat Nightshade, a leg over the pommel, and looked from the flat top of the mesa over at its twin. They were very close together as if some glacier had come down and decapitated them in one fell slice, like a knife cutting cheese. He made a mental picture of how he would lay out the ring for the fight and that the other twin, with a few trees and some green bush, must have had a closeness to nature which this one lacked.

He rode down into town. GG cattle grazed; a cowboy lifted his hand in recognition. Buchanan responded. Days had gone by since Hunt’s arrest, and Buchanan had not heard from Major Jones, nor had he made any progress in the detection of the murderer who had done away with Gabe Goodwin. Furthermore, he had an uneasy feeling that things had been too quiet; he felt a portent of danger in Scottsville.

He stabled Nightshade. Bondi puttered around, unhearing and uncaring, a man who took part in nothing. Coco came out into the yard rubbing his eyes and started to speak but Buchanan shook his head and led the black horse into the stable.

Coco followed, saying, “That fool can’t hear nothin’. I been tryin’ to make him understand since we been here.”

“Even the walls have ears,” Buchanan told him. The stable was a litter of harness and tools. “Have you been threatened again?”

“No. They must figure I’m scared.”

“Uh-huh.”

“They right, big man. They plumb right.” Buchanan said, “I told you that I’ll be right in there with you, wearin’ my gun and all.”

“That’s what I’m scared of. Guns.”

“Just stay that way and be ready.”

“I’m ready. It’s just that I’m scared.”

“If you try to run away,” Buchanan said, “the whole county will be after you. With a long rope.”

“I’m scared of that, too.” Coco reflected. “Fact is, I’m scared of everything but that big blowhead, that Oliver.”

“He’s just a strong boy.”

“Yessir. You a strong man, too.”

“I’m a Ranger,” Buchanan said patiently. “I can’t fight you while I’m wearin’ a badge.”

“Then how come you can referee?”

“There’s a difference.”

“I can’t see it.” Coco was fretful. “I druther fight you for nothin’ than go through this here thing for two hundred dollars.”

“You mean that’s all they’re giving you? Two hundred dollars? Why, there’s thousands bet on the fight.”

“If I live to get the two hundred, it’s all right with me,” Coco said. “Too many guns. I just want us to get through here, and you and me go some place and find out who’s best. No badges and no guns.”

“Then behave yourself and do like I say.”

“Have I got any other way to go?”

Buchanan left the dolorous fighter and went across to the Wells Fargo office. Jackson was just opening up.

“No message,” said the telegrapher-clerk. “Say, you sure you know all the London prizefight rules?”

“I reckon.”

“You know about the hip throw?”

“Seen it, many’s the time.”

“It’s legal. Oliver can’t lose, because he’s the best at it.”

“Okay.”

Jackson persisted, “I seen him knock an ox stiffer than a board plank with one punch.

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