Cattle King for a Day by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western
ISBN: 9781592125265
Publisher: Galaxy Press
Published: 2010-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

Come and Get It

Chapter One

WHEN Bill Norton got off the train at Wolf Junction, he had not expected to be met, exactly, with a brass band. But because he was the new owner of the Bar N, he thought there’d at least be a rig in sight.

But the only things he could see, when the train rattled away to dwindle on the plains, were a station agent and a prairie dog. After some thought, Bill decided on the former.

“By the way,” he began casually, “I was sort of expecting somebody to meet me here. I’m the new owner of the Bar N.”

The grizzled old agent looked the stranger up and down in a casual, insulting way. He could not miss the screaming stamp of Easterner upon that narrow-brimmed hat, the well-tailored suit and the polished oxfords. True, Bill Norton was not bad to look upon, being broad of shoulder, handsome and young. But there wasn’t enough windburn to the stranger’s face for the station agent.

“Huh,” said the agent, shifting his cud from right to left. “Bar N? That’s what you think.”

“I said,” began Bill anew.

“I heerd ye,” said the agent. “You think maybe I’m deef?” Thereupon he left Norton’s trunk where it lay and stalked off into his office, where the telegraph was clicking.

For a while Bill hopefully waited for the old man to come back but hope waned. At last, Bill reached down, up-ended his trunk, and with a boost tossed it up on his shoulder. It was a peculiar trunk, having broad bands of color around it so that they crossed on top.

Dust in the street of Wolf Junction was deep enough to seep into the top of the oxfords. The sun was molten brass, intent on soaking the last drop of moisture from the cracked boards of the weary shacks and false-fronts.

Wolf Junction, Wyoming was not particularly sparkling in the eyes of young Bill Norton. He dumped the trunk on the steps of the Golden Jubilee Hotel, Saloon, Restaurant, Billiard Parlor and Girls Girls Girls, and looked the town over. Bill sighed. Evidently there wasn’t a soul awake at this early hour of eleven o’clock, though a broken lantern and some empty cartridges in the street attested a lively evening just passed.

Bill wandered inside. A bartender was mechanically polishing glasses as though such action would mysteriously conjure up drinkers.

“Beg pardon,” said Bill cautiously. “But I just got off the train. . . .”

The bartender had taken in the hat, the Eastern suit. “Well, git back on agin. I ain’t stoppin’ you.”

Bill cleared his throat nervously. “I thought maybe somebody would be in here to meet me. My name is Norton and I’m the new owner of the Bar N. I thought . . .”

But the bartender drowned out whatever Bill Norton thought in a gust of laughter and then went on polishing glasses.

“That’s the truth,” said Bill uneasily. “Dan Norton was my father.”

The bartender came back and looked carefully into Bill’s face, and then shook his head.

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