Borden Chantry by Louis L’Amour

that if the dead man was who he thought it might be, we might have somebody comin’ in here huntin’ him. Somebody who would set the town on its ear.”
    â€œYou let ’em come. We got Winchesters enough in this town to fight us a war, and there’s enough fightin’ men here to handle ’em.
    â€œThis here town is like most western towns. Hyatt Johnson, now, he was a major in the Rebel cavalry. Sure, he’s a banker now, but he’s got him a rifle hung up back of his desk and he’s got a thirty-six Navy in his desk drawer.
    â€œBlazer over at the express office was a sharpshooter with Sherman, and he fit in three, four Indian battles. Ain’t hardly a man in any western town who wasn’t in the war on one side or t’other, and most have fit Injuns since they were boys…An’ most of them shot meat for the table. Anybody comes into one of these towns huntin’ trouble, he’s askin’ for a stakeout on Boot Hill.”
    Mrs. Riggin paused. “Borden, you should talk to young Billy McCoy. Now there’s a quick-witted youngster. Like his pa used to be, maybe more so. He sees nearly everything goes on around town, and believe me, Johnny knew something he was itching to tell you. It was something that scared him.”
    â€œI’ll talk to him.” Chantry got up, turning his hat in his hands. “You’ve got no idea who George suspected?”
    â€œNo, I don’t, but George was a painstaking man, Borden. You remember that? He was not a man to leave things to chance, nor was he a trusting man.
    â€œI mean, George liked people, but he expected little from them. He often said all people were human, all could make mistakes. And many people had a little larceny in them, given the chance. George trusted no man to be free from error, and most particularly, himself.”
    Borden got up and moved toward the door, yet something in her words caught at his attention. He turned slowly. “Ma? Did George ever keep any notes? I mean, when he was working on a case? Did he keep it all in his head?”
    â€œWell…mostly. But not always, Borden. And on this last case I think he kept notes, but I never saw them. Like I said, he never talked much about his cases around home. Only once in awhile he’d come out with something or tell me where he was going. Like the day he was killed.”
    â€œWhere was he going?” Even as Chantry asked the question it came as a shock that he had no idea…that so far as he knew nobody had ever inquired. He himself had not yet been appointed marshal and he had heard of Riggin’s death only at secondhand. He’d been busy trying to save something on his own ranch.
    â€œOut to see Blossom. They were old friends, you know. He and Ed Galey rode the trail together, bringing cattle up from Chihuahua, and he’d been studying about seeing her for some time, then finally decided on it. He was riding to see her when he was killed.”
    Chantry turned the knob, opening the door to leave. Mrs. Riggin got up from her rocker. “Oh…I almost forgot! George said Johnny McCoy was to have that fancy bridle of his, and Billy was to have his spurs, but he said most particular that you were to have his saddle.
    â€œSaid it might need mending a bit, but you were a good hand at that sort of thing, and would fix it better’n new. If you want, you can pick it up now.”
    He thanked her, then walked out on the porch. For a moment he stood there, looking about. His head ached, felt like something was pressing down on him right over the eyebrows. He ran his fingers through his hair, then put on his hat.
    Oh, yes…the saddle.
    He walked around the house and into the small barn. The bridle was hanging on a nail where George always kept it. The spurs were on the table.
    The saddle was gone.

Chapter 9
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    I N THE DUST of the barn floor there were boot tracks.
    Borden Chantry looked sharply around.