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Kilkenny by Louis L’Amour

“I think—maybe I could find him,” he ventured. “I could try, but to be away from here now? It is not good.”

“Find him!” Nita insisted. “Tell him I must see him.” “Perhaps there is another way,” Blaine ventured. “Wait until he comes back into town. He will come, you know, and I know from what Leal Macy said that he has offered to back him if he needs help. Dolan knows him also.” Blaine scowled thoughtfully. “Dolan might even know where he is. He would know if anybody does.”

“Jaime. Ride to town with the doctor. Find out if Dolan does know.” Despite her anxiety it almost frightened her to think of seeing him again. She understood well enough his motives for leaving her as he had, and respected him for it even while she regretted it. That she was quite prepared to accept him despite what might happen he well knew. Yet the thought of seeing him again and the chance of losing him again frightened her. After his disappearance she had adjusted herself only after a long time, and doubted if she could go through it again.

Her childhood training, her father, all her background conditioned her to love for one man only. Moreover there was something inwardly fastidious about her that avoided the thought of any other man but this one. “Let me go to Dolan,” Blame suggested. “I know him. I’ll explain, and then you’ll have Brigo if trouble starts.”

Brigo waited, liking this idea better. He had cared for Nita since she was a child and resented the thought of leaving her at such a time. Kilkenny was the only man who came near her of whom he approved. More than fifty years of age, the Yaqui possessed the strength of a gorilla, the devotion of a dog, and the cunning of a wolf.

“All right,” Nita decided. “Tell him I need to see him.” Doc Blaine got up from the table. Curiously he wondered how she had met the man who called himself Trent. Obviously the man had used the name before, but who was he?

As he started back toward town in his buckboard he could see cattle darkening the range where once Carpenter’s few cattle had grazed. How could a woman with so few hands hope to stand against Tetlow’s vast herds? There was no way to fight masses of cattle, for now Jared Tetlow had found the method that seemingly could not be stopped. He himself need attack nobody, for those cattle, bunched upon range too small to feed them, would break any man. Nearing Whisker Draw a man got up from the rocks. He had a field glass and a rifle. It was Cain Brockman.

“Howdy,” he grinned, slouching down to the trail. “Reckon we got a fight comin’.”

“You may get help.” Brockman had been with Nita a long time and might know.

“Miss Riordan has asked me to get in touch with a man named Trent.”

Excitement broke over Brockman’s face. “You mean—“ He broke, off sharply.

“Trent? Nobody I’d rather see right now.”

Blaine had gone no more than two miles further when another movement stopped him. A woman, bloody and half her clothing torn, stumbled down the draw, then fell. She was struggling to rise as he reached her side. She was not a young woman and she was obviously exhausted as well as badly hurt. It was Mrs. Carpenter.

“My God! What’s happened? Where’s Free?”

“Dead.” She was half dazed with grief and weariness. “Killed.”

“Shot?”

“They stampeded cattle through the yard. He’d gone for water to the well. He broke for the house but he didn’t get halfway before they ran him down.” “And you?”

“Tried to help him. Steer knocked me down. I… I was going for the sheriff.” He helped her into the buckboard and gave her a drink from his canteen. He wiped her face clean and gave her the best first aid treatment he could manage. “He was all I had,” she mumbled, only half conscious. “Without him it ain’t… it ain’t…”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Think what Free would have done. He was a brave, good man.”

After that she sat quietly until they reached town. He turned off at the outskirts and drove to Bob Early’s home.

Laurie Webster was watering flowers and when she saw the woman she hurried to help. Blaine explained quickly.

“Is Bob home?”

“He’s at the Diamond. He was to meet Leal Macy there.” There would be action now. They would not take this. Yet even as the thought came to him, he began to doubt. Some would think only of the added profit they were making from the big, new outfit. They would remember the painfully few dollars spent by Carpenter and Carson, and would not allow themselves to think of what might happen when the Forty was in complete control. There was Macy, however, and Bob Early. And there was Dolan and his men, perhaps a few others. His spirits sagged as he realized how few they were. Yet it had been always so. The many are afraid to act, hoping for the best until it is too late.

A dozen men sat at the table when he entered. Briefly, he explained. Macy leaned on the table, looking around at the faces of the others. “What did I tell you? Carson first, now Carpenter. Nobody is safe.”

“We don’t know what happened.” Woolrich owned the Emporium. “We don’t know Carpenter was run down a-purpose. We only got a hysterical woman’s word for it.” Happy Jack Harrow of the Pinenut Saloon agreed. “My sentiments. Tetlow’s bringing prosperity. My take’s doubled since he came. This here’s hard country. If a man ain’t fit, he can’t last.”

“Who are we to fight a rancher’s battles?” Savory agreed. “There’s always been range wars. Far as that goes, what d’you suppose they’d do to the town if we started something? They’d wipe us out.”

“So you’ll stand by and see men murdered, robbed of their homes, and women driven into the desert?” Macy was disgusted. “Now we know the brand you wear, anyway.”

“Easy with that, Sheriff.” Savory’s face was angry. “Because you’re the law doesn’t give you license to make free with your tongue. A bullet’ll stop you soon as any man.”

“Forget that,” Early broke in. “Let’s not fight among ourselves.” He looked around. “I take it then that you’re not in favor of taking action?” “That’s right,” Savory said. Woolrich, Harrow, and a half dozen others nodded agreement.

Early turned to Macy. “Well, Leal, that shakes out the deck a little but the right cards can still win. I want you to deputize me.” “And me,” Doc Blaine replied shortly.

A big man with a shock of black curly hair stepped up from the back of the room.

His face was heavy-jawed and sullen. “I want you make me ziss deputy, too.” Pierre Ernleven was rarely seen away from his kitchen. He liked nothing so much as preparing food and seeing it eaten, and he took no part in the affairs of Horsehead. If he did not like a man’s conversation or his attitude he would refuse to serve him. He was not above throwing a man bodily from the premises. “Thanks, Pierre,” Macy said. “There’s no man I’d sooner have.” Ernleven looked around, his eyes bitter with contempt. “The rest of you don’t come to my dining room. That goes for you, Harrow. Stay out.” Harrow got up, flushed and angry. “Cut your throats if you want. You don’t know where your bread is buttered.”

“That’s probably right, Jack.” Early spoke quietly. “We’re thinking about a little word that has meant an awful lot to this country. A word called Justice. We’re thinking of a country where there will be no feudal power, where no one man can control the destinies of others. It was little men who built this country, and little men who have been its backbone. You should read Jefferson, Harrow. Had you lived in ‘76 you’d have been a Tory.” “You call me a traitor?” Harrow’s face went white. “Examine your conduct,” Early replied, “then judge for yourself. As for me,” he got to his feet, “my Winchester needs oiling. Call on me, Leal, when you’re ready.” He turned away, then glanced back. “See you later, gentlemen!” Harrow glared around him, then stamped out and slammed the door. Woolrich walked after him. He was gloomy. His wife would give him the devil for this. She thought anything Bob Early did was all right.

Macy smiled with wry humor. “There it is, Doctor. If you ever wanted a lost cause, you’ve got it.”

Blaine refused to admit it. “The cause of right is never lost, Leal. I’ve often thought the biggest damned fool in the world could go down in history as a great man if he would just consistently vote for the greatest good of the greatest number.

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Categories: L'Amour, Loius
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