The Lawless by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2015-06-07T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Rube St. James drew rein and studied the ranch house that lay a mile or so to the east of Table Top Mountain. The limestone mesa itself, rising two hundred feet above the flat, was covered in a thick growth of juniper, oak, chaparral, and cactus, but the surrounding area was rolling grassland where a scattered herd of about two hundred longhorns grazed. To his envious eyes, it seemed like an excellent place for part of his own herd to fatten over the rest of the summer and into next spring. Savannah might disagree, preferring to drive the entire herd farther west, but the ranch was still worth acquiring.

Rube took a brass ship’s telescope from his saddlebags and scanned the ranch house more closely. It was a modest affair, small and cramped with a sod roof. A few shabby outbuildings, a pole corral, and a well with an iron pump were nearby. A woman who looked to be pregnant stepped out of the door, tossed away a pan of dirty water, and went back inside.

Then Rube saw what he needed to see. A man came round the side of the cabin leading a yearling colt. He wore no belt gun and looked exactly like what he was, a one-loop rancher living a hardscrabble existence at the ragged edge of nowhere.

Rube St. James smiled, put the glass a way, and kneed his horse forward. He anticipated no trouble. He’d tell the man to go and he’d go.

In an age corset-bound by the Victorian code of ethics, a visitor was expected to hail the dwelling and then sit his horse until given permission to light and set. That is what Rube St. James would have done for people he considered members of his own class, but a cocklebur rancher, like the poor, blacks, Mexicans, and Indians, merited no such consideration.

Rube swung out of the saddle and fisted the rickety door so hard it rattled on its hinges. The door was opened almost immediately by a brown-eyed, brown-haired man of medium height and build, a striking contrast to the tall, blond, blue-eyed St. James.

The rancher was angry. “Why the hell do you hammer on a man’s door like that?”

Rube smiled. “Howdy. I’ll sum things up for you in two words. Get out!”

The man was taken aback. “Mister, are you crazy? I want you off my property now.”

“I told you to get out,” Rube said. “Take what you can carry and light a shuck.”

The rancher turned his head. “Jane, I got a crazy man here. Bring me my rifle.”

“No rifle!” Rube yelled. He drew and fired.

Hit dead center in his chest, the men staggered a few steps backward and then fell on his back. The impact of his body hitting the timber floor made the cabin shake. The woman screamed. She ran to her husband’s side and threw herself on his body, sobbing uncontrollably.

In a conversational tone, Rube said, “Ma’am, I’ll saddle the horse in the corral for you so you can be on your way.

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