Buchanan 15 by Jonas Ward

Author:Jonas Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: action hero, colt 45, piccadilly publishing, gunfighters of the old west, pulp fiction westerns, ebook western, tom buchanan, jonas ward westerns
Publisher: Piccadilly

Six

For two days Buchanan rode the plain, sometimes with Coco, sometimes with Shawn Casey. He learned to appreciate the border collies and the McNabs, the work dogs who were gentle when need be and fierce if necessary. Because of the dogs, Casey explained, fewer herders were needed. Without the dogs it would have been impossible to control the herds.

Of the men engaged in herding, only Gowdy and Indian Joe seemed to be fighters. There was a Mexican, Manuel Cordova, who had pride and whose dogs were fighters at his command. He had no stomach for guns, he told Buchanan, nor did any of the other Casey employees.

However, for these two days there was peace. The sun shone; clouds made many-storied palaces floating high in the blue sky. All was calm.

On the third day Susan and Peter Wolf and Shawn Casey gathered at noon upon the handy hilltop that Buchanan had used for an observation post. The sheep browsed, and far away the cattle of Cross Bar were somnolent, bunched near the big house. Six men came riding from Sheridan, traversing the rough trail to the ranch. Buchanan unlimbered his field glasses.

His jaw hardened. He said, “Fritz Wilder. I’d know him anywhere, anytime.”

“Wilder?” asked Casey.

“The wildest. A boss gunslinger. Fast and mean.”

“Six of them to replace Semple and McGee,” said Susan. “And Miss Priss talked about peace and good will.”

Buchanan said mildly, “I wouldn’t reckon Claire had anything to do with it.”

“They’re here,” she retorted.

Peter Wolf said, “They’re here to wipe us out.” He had his rifle half out of the scabbard when Buchanan stopped him. “Better now than later.”

Shawn Casey said, “No, Peter. We can’t do that, you know.”

Buchanan returned to his field glasses. “Uh-huh. Shawn’s right. And looky yonder.”

He handed the glasses to Susan. She squinted and then said, “Robertson’s buggy. She’s drivin’. Miss Priss.”

“So we’ll talk.”

“I won’t believe a word,” said Susan.

Peter Wolf was silent, uneasy. Shawn Casey was hopeful. Buchanan waited, hoping for the best, fearing the worst. Fritz Wilder was evil; he was without compunction. Men who rode with him did his bidding or suffered grave consequences. It could be that Robertson wanted the gunslingers as a threat, a bulwark behind which he could command without resorting to violence. It could be that the owner of Cross Bar was about to deliver an ultimatum.

The riders below reined in. The carriage stopped and Robertson talked to the horsemen. Claire sat straight and aloof during the conversation, Buchanan noted.

He was certain that he had been right about the girl. Now, if only Peter Wolf would make his manners ... He put the thought aside. Peter had eyes only for Susan Casey.

Fritz Wilder and his men rode on toward Cross Bar and were soon out of sight beyond a ridge of land. Buchanan could see a herd of cattle to the south and sheep to the north. Down below to the west lay the ravine into which the sheep had been driven. It was, he thought, a proper spot for a meeting.

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