I'm Off to Montana for to Throw the Hoolihan (Code of the West) by Bly Stephen

Author:Bly, Stephen [Bly, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-11-13T00:00:00+00:00

“Ever’one of them’s mean, and ever’one will shoot you in the back if you ain’t lookin’.”

“No one’s been able to catch them?”

“Lots have tried. They either come back empty—or dead.”

“How long have they been gettin’ away with this?”

“They moved into this country with the railroad. They followed the lines—stealin’, cheatin’, bushwhackin’ workers out of their pay. When the line was completed, they settled in the hills down on the Crow Reserve and come raidin’ up here whenever they get short on supplies. Some say them Crows is in cahoots with ’em. Somethin’s got to be done. They got $4,000 off the Northern Pacific last month. We figured we wouldn’t see ’em ’til spring.”

“You were wrong.”

“Dead wrong.” Starke paused by the body of his partner on the front steps and then turned back to Tap. “Mister, you ain’t interested in buyin’ this place, are you? I’ll give you a real bargain.”

“Nope.”

“The N. P. might put in a tie sidin’ by March, and if they do, we’ll have more business than we know what to do with. Sure you don’t want to buy me out?”

“Not me.”

Starke shrugged. “I guess I better notify his kin. Told me he had a sister, Miss Carolina Cantrell, back east. Maybe she wants to buy the place.”

Tap gazed around. An Eastern lady runnin’ this dump?

“You want to come have a drink with me?”

“I don’t drink.”

“You ain’t another one of them Quakers, is ya? Nah, I guess not. You’re packin’ a sidearm. I’m goin’ to have a drink.”

“And you can take care of these bodies. I’m goin’ back to the ranch. If the sheriff wants to get my story, send him out to the Slash-Bar-4.”

Starke was completely out of sight by the time Tap finished his sentence. He hiked out to Roundhouse, mounted up, rode out three quick bucks, and headed back up to the grassland slope.

Angelita led a parade of children to the front porch of the big house, and Pepper stepped outside to survey the crew.

“This is Ellen Mae.” Angelita introduced the tallest of the Miller children. “She’s eleven and knows how to make quilts.” She moved down the row to the next tallest, a dark-haired boy with black trousers and a long-sleeved white shirt. “And this is Chester Leroy. He’s nine and—”

“I’m almost ten.”

“He’s nine,” Angelita repeated. “He claims he can stand on his hands and walk clear across the yard.”

“I can. Do you want to see me?”

“Oh, not right now, Chester Leroy.” Pepper smiled.

“Everybody calls me Chet—except for her.” He pointed at Angelita.

“This is Margaret Louise. She’s seven.”

“I’m six, and I can cook an apple pie.”

Angelita looked at the the little girl, whose face was set off by two long braids of sandy-blonde hair. “She looks mature for her age, don’t you think?”

“Is that good?” Margaret Louise asked.

“Yes. Now this is Ruth Raylene. She’s three.”

A little round face with shoulder-length dark hair peeked out from under a knit hat. Her coat was only buttoned at the top, and the sleeves hung well over her hands.

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