Jim Saddler 2 by Gene Curry

Author:Gene Curry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: piccadilly publishing, western frontier fiction, western and american frontier fiction, western action adventure romance, western action fiction, western adventure gunfighters, western action and adventure ebook, western and cowboy erotica, gene curry, jim saddler
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Ten

Well, today was the day that was supposed to end the Wingate-Pardee range war to everybody’s satisfaction, and even the dead man wouldn’t be able to complain after the bullet tore through a vital spot. I was up and around before anybody else on the place and, taking a cup of reheated coffee, I went out on the porch and sat in a rocker and waited for first light.

It was still dark, and everything was so peaceful I thought it a shame that one or both old men had to die before the day was over. Yet there was nothing to be done about it short of roping John to his bed and sitting on him. That was one of the useless ideas I had.

There was a light in the bunkhouse by the time the sun came up. War or no war, the chores still had to be done. While I waited, Curly Fitch came out and washed his face and hands in a tin basin and threw away the slops. He went back inside without even looking at me though he knew I was there.

It was a nice morning, with a cool wind from the north. The sun was full up when I heard John yelling for his breakfast. Then he changed his mind and yelled at Laughing Woman to fetch him a bottle. I knew how he felt but one drink is never enough for John. I went back inside to see if I could interest him in some black coffee.

He was sitting by himself at the head of the long table over which he had presided at so many hearty meals. A bottle and glass stood in front of him, and he didn’t look as tough as he sounded. He didn’t look tough at all, just old and tired and frightened, red-eyed from poor sleep and shaking from the effects of too much rum.

But he tried to make a brave show of it. “Pull up a chair, Saddler. You want a little snort to open your eyes?”

I said I was drinking coffee. “Do you good to have some,” I said.

“Not this morning,” he roared, rubbing his eyes as he said it, and I wondered how much of his headache was caused by rum and how much by fear.

The glass rattled against his long brown teeth as he took a drink of rum. Some of it spilled down his chin and he wiped it away with the back of his bony hand. There was a shake in his hand when he put the glass down.

“Come on for Christ sake, join me in a drink,” he roared. “I feel powerful good this morning.”

“Why?” I asked him.

“You mean you haven’t figured it out?”

I said not yet.

His laugh was loud and it was hollow as a dried gourd. “That’s why you’ll never be a businessman,” he said. “You still don’t know why I feel so good.”

I had to confess I didn’t.

“Then I’ll tell you,” he said. “Before this day is over I’ll be sole owner of the biggest ranch in Dade County.

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