Midnight Round-Up by Brett Halliday

Author:Brett Halliday
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504024938
Publisher: Open Road Media

10

It wasn’t more than half an hour after Pat Stevens left the K Bar ranch when Gut-Luck Lasher came stamping into the house. Crane turned on him angrily as soon as he walked in, and demanded, “Where’ve you been all evening?”

“Out around.” Lasher made a nonchalant gesture. His lean face held a look of suppressed excitement and he gave the impression of being very well satisfied with himself as he strolled forward to the stove.

“That’s fine,” said Crane with cutting sarcasm. “Out around, eh? Just when you should have been here tending to business.”

Lasher shrugged his shoulders. “Mebby I was tendin’ to bizniss.”

“Monkey business,” Crane shouted angrily. “The sheriff was here not more than half an hour ago.”

“That so?” Lasher didn’t seem perturbed. He got out a sack of tobacco and a book of cigarette papers, began rolling a cigarette.

“And you were out somewhere just when you should have been here. Pat Stevens walked right into the trap but you weren’t here to spring it.” Crane’s voice was thick with frustration and rage.

“Ain’t that too bad?” Lasher licked his cigarette and crimped one end between strong fingers.

“It may be weeks before we get another set-up like tonight. He had a run-in with Tim in town—just like we’d planned. He took Tim’s gun off him and sent him home drunk. A whole saloonful of men saw and heard the whole thing. Then he came riding out here with a gun on his hip. And Tim was drunk enough to be wringy. If you’d been here where you belonged you could have gunned him down and I’d have killed Tim. No one would ever know but what Stevens had come here to arrest Tim and got shot by him. There’d only have been you and me to tell the story—just like the judge planned it out in Denver.”

Gut-Luck shrugged his broad shoulders. “I reckon there’ll be other times.”

“Not near so perfect. We’ll have to work it all up again now. Like the judge told us, we’ve got to have it so folks will believe us when we say Tim did the shooting. Like as not Stevens won’t come back here to the ranch again with a gun on.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that.” Lasher grinned at his employer. “Mebby I’ve been busy too.”

“Chasing after some rancher’s daughter?”

“Nope.” Lasher blew out a puff of blue smoke. He retained his irritating calm. “I met up with the Stevens boy in the east pasture just a little after dark.”

“What was Dock doing out there at night?”

“Runnin’ away from home,” Gut-Luck Lasher told him laconically.

Crane’s jaw dropped. “Running away?”

“Yep. Headed fer Mexico. That’s what he tol’ me. Figgers he’s growed up an’ don’t have to take orders from his sheriffin’ daddy no more. But he was worried about that one-eyed galoot trailin’ him an’ bringin’ him back home.” Lasher paused to frown at the glowing tip of his cigarette.

“Fellow they call Ezra,” Crane nodded. “I’ve heard he’s better than any Indian on a cold trail. What of it? We don’t care.

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