Maybe you don't know it, but
there's a greaser just across the line--they call him Don
Vasquez--who makes a fat living buying stolen cattle. He's got
some old Indian remedy for making hair grow, and he cuts out the
old brands, makes hair grow out and then burns in his three
crosses."
"And so my leasing the bottoms has spoiled this criminal dealing?"
"That's what. I heard a greaser down in El Paso last winter
boasting you'd sell your ranch inside of two years."
"Why didn't you tell me?" demanded Mr. Wilder severely.
"Didn't think it was necessary. Fatty and I fixed him so he
wouldn't brag any more."
Deeming it unwise to inquire Into the means taken for silencing the
Mexican, the ranchman lapsed into silence for a few minutes and
then declared:
"No cattle thieves can drive me out of business, Nails. I have the
right on my side, and right always triumphs."
"We boys are with you, Mr. Wilder. You've always played more than
fair with us, which is more than we can say of some folks, and we
appreciate it. Cowboys have feelings same as other people, though
there seem to be a lot of folks who don't think so. And I'm
speaking for the other boys of the Half-Moon as well as myself. We
talked it all over before Pete sent me to the ranch. But when you
join 'em at the pool, don't say anything about what I've told you.
Sentiment and hunting cattle thieves don't mix.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91