Volume Seven-Frontier Stories by Louis L'Amour

Author:Louis L'Amour [L'Amour, Louis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A&A, historical, omnibus, SSC, western
ISBN: 9780553907056
Google: xrA2sdd-dZwC
Amazon: B002SME1L2
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2009-10-27T00:00:00+00:00

KRAG MORAN WALKED outside and shoved his hat back on his head. Slowly, he built a smoke. Why, he was a damned fool! He had put himself right in the middle by quitting. Now he would be fair game for Leason’s friends, with nobody to stand beside him. Well, that would not be new. He had stood alone before he came here, and he could again.

He looked down the street. Dan Riggs was squatted in the street, picking up his type. Slowly, Krag drew on his cigarette; then he took it from his lips and snapped it into the gutter. Riggs looked up as his shadow fell across him. His face was still dark with bitterness.

Krag nodded at it. “Can you make that thing work again? The press, I mean.”

Riggs stared at the wrecked machine. “I doubt it,” he said quietly. “It was all I had, too. They think nothing of wrecking a man’s life.”

Krag squatted beside him and picked up a piece of the type and carefully wiped off the sand. “You made a mistake,” he said quietly. “You should have had a gun on your desk.”

“Would that have stopped them?”

“No.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t have it. Although,” there was a flicker of ironic humor in his eyes, “sometimes I don’t feel peaceful. There was a time this afternoon when if I’d had a gun—”

Krag chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “I see what you mean. Now let’s get this stuff picked up. If we can get that press started, we’ll do a better job—and this time I’ll be standing beside you.”

Two days later the paper hit the street, and copies of it swiftly covered the country.

BIG RANCHERS WRECK JOURNAL PRESS

Efforts of the big ranchers of the Squaw Creek Valley range to stifle the free press have proved futile….

There followed the complete story of the wrecking of the press and the threats to Dan Riggs. Following that was a rehash of the two raids on the nesters, the accounts of the killings of Grimes and Leason, and the warning to the state at large that a full-scale cattle war was in the making unless steps were taken to prevent it.

Krag Moran walked across the street to the saloon, and the bartender shook his head at him. “You’ve played hob,” he said. “They’ll lynch both of you now.”

“No, they won’t. Make mine rye.”

The bartender shook his head. “No deal. The boss says no selling to you or Riggs.”

Krag Moran’s smile was not pleasant. “Don’t make any mistakes, Pat,” he said quietly. “Riggs might take that—I won’t. You set that bottle out here on the bar or I’m going back after it. And don’t reach for that shotgun! If you do, I’ll part your hair with a bullet.”

The bartender hesitated and then reached carefully for the bottle. “It ain’t me, Krag,” he objected. “It’s the boss.”

“Then you tell the boss to tell me.” Krag poured drink, tossed it off, and walked from the saloon.

When Moran crossed the street, there was a sorrel mare tied in front of the shop.

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