Land Grab by Jackson Cole

Author:Jackson Cole [Cole, Jackson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781440555497
Publisher: Prologue Books
Published: 1953-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER V

JIM HATFIELD FELT sweat break out on his temples as he stared at the slender trembling girl and realized how near his crushing blow had come to reaching its mark.

“Ma’am,” he said, his voice a trifle unsteady, “that was almighty close. You see, I didn’t know you were a woman.”

But his face hardened as the girl started to speak.

“What’s the notion, ma’am, of sneakin’ up here in the brush and watchin’ the valley down there with a rifle in your hands?”

“I — I was waiting for — for somebody,” the girl quavered.

“Waiting for somebody? But why the rifle?”

“Ra — he told me to carry it,” she replied, her voice a trifle steadier. “He said it was dangerous for me to ride here.”

“He — whoever he is — came mighty nigh to being plumb right,” the Ranger agreed grimly. He gazed over the girl’s shoulder at the approaching horseman who had now drawn near the base of the slope. There was something about the set of the shoulders and the way he forked his big bay that was reminiscent of Clyde Cranley, but the rider was too slender and too youthful of posture to be the old ranch owner.

Hatfield’s eyes narrowed slightly. He gestured toward the horseman.

“That who you’re waiting for, ma’am?” he asked.

The girl stared fearfully into his bleak face.

“Y-yes,” she faltered.

“And just why are you up here waiting for Rance Cranley?” Hatfield queried. “Just who are you, anyhow, ma’am?”

The girl’s round, white little chin tilted proudly as she answered the second question:

“I’m Verna Flint.”

Hatfield stared at her. “Justin Flint’s daughter?”

The girl nodded.

“Now I’m beginning to understand,” the Ranger added, “why Rance Cranley was up on the mountain that day.”

The girl was gazing at him with wide eyes, her red lips parted.

“Why,” she exclaimed, “you must be Jim Hatfield! Rance told me how you saved him from those awful men.”

Hatfield chuckled, and abruptly his green eyes were sunny as summer seas.

“And you rode down here to meet him because you figured it was too dangerous for him to come up there?”

“Yes,” Verna Flint replied. “That’s what I told him. He didn’t like it, but I wouldn’t hear of anything else. I don’t consider there is any danger down here.”

“Maybe not,” Hatfield responded, “but I’m not plumb sure of that.”

He chuckled again, however. “I’m beginning to see how this trouble spot may be cleared up, after all,” he said. “Okay, ma’am, I see young Rance is climbing the slope. I’ll just mosey on. Reckon you’re safe enough in his hands.”

The red-haired girl smiled for the first time and colored prettily.

“I hope so,” she replied demurely.

“Reckon you can take a chance on it,” Hatfield smiled back at her. “Adios.”

He made his way back to Goldy, mounted and rode upward toward the base of the cliffs. But a short distance from the bench trail, he halted the sorrel, hooked one leg comfortably over the saddle horn and proceeded to roll a cigarette.

“Just the same, little lady, I’m keeping an eye on you till you’re clear of this darn bench,” he remarked aloud.

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