there comes a first time for everyone!"
"Ay!"
"Gibbons has gone too far! I say we elect a captain of our own. My vote goes to Cy Tompkins."
Alex A l red was the last speaker, and it was not until he had made his nomination that he was aware he was talking into a dead silence. All the excited clamor in the big room had vanished into thin air, and the puzzled man turned slowly around to stare at a trio of militiamen in side the doorway.
"Who is Cy Tompkins?" Lou Kersh asked A l red.; "Trot him out here." [
"This is a private meeting," Ken Hamlin said. "It's going to be, as soon as every Mex-lover in the place pulls stakes."
"We're getting a little tired of that," Hamlin coun tered. "All opposed to Gibbons get tarred with the same old brush."
"As soon as every Mex-lover pulls stakes," Kersh said again, as if the other man hadn't spoken. "Clears out of the country. Now, which one is Cy Tompkins?"
There was a pause, then the man cleared his throa t nervously and stepped forward. "My name is Tompkins,! he said.
"Do you accept the nomination?"
"What?"
"For captain of the home guard, mister. Are yo u number one here?"
"Give the fellow some peace," Hamlin s po k e "You've already done enough for one day."
"You're the big talker," Kersh told him. "Maybe yo u’re the one they want to rep them." "Hamlin is not concerned in this. It's my ranch you’ve moved on to." Tompkins walked three strides closer to the three gunmen. "If my friends want me," he said, "I'm their captain."
"All his friends raise their hands," Kersh said, and they all did. Kersh laughed. "Some friends," he said to the other pair and they laughed, too. "All right, Tompkins, let's go."
"Go where?"
"To the calabozo! Where the hell did you think? As of sundown this town's under martial law, and you're look ing at the provost marshal."
"But what's Tompkins done?" demanded Macintosh, outraged.
"What hasn't he done? Aiding and abetting an enemy of the State of Texas, inciting to riot, illegal assembly — Tompkins, you're a dangerous character to be running around loose. Let's go!"
The other two shifted position, gave each other arm room, and there was something not quite sane in the face of Lou Kersh, at least. He wanted them to force his hand.
"I'll go with you," Cy Tompkins said.
"Then take me as well," Jock Bryan volunteered. Alex A l red came forward at the same time.
Kersh shook his head.
"Just one criminal at a time," he said. "But if you're still here rabble-rousing when we get back, the rest will be accommodated."
The three of them left with Tompkins between them.
THIRTEEN
J ack Gibbons' strong point was his talent for improvising. Where another man might have been badly rattled by the unexpected and thoroughly unwanted turn of events at the MacKay ranch, Gibbons had a resilience of mind, a military man's inborn ability to go ice-calm in moments of stress, to think on the spot and by the very confidence he felt in himself quell the fears of others.
For there had been fear there in MacKay's yard, a real anxiety in the hearts of all those who had helped kill a Ranger. Gibbons had sensed it, and reacted with precision and poise. His somewhat remarkable decision was to pretend that the whole thing had never happened, that he and the men had never ridden this way; he had not so much as laid eyes on the girl; Mulchay had never arrived and there was no such person as Seth Keroon.
So he cleared them all out and headed the party west to Mulchay's range, for the same thought process that produced this solution also included the basic proposition that here was the land Malcolm Lord had hired him to usurp.
And always —in all ways—he had the threat of the Mexican invaders.
At Mulchay's house his riders continued to obey his crisply spoken orders, though they had no idea what the purpose was. First they strung up the bullet-riddled body to the same eaves where the four Mexicans had been lynched fifteen days ago. Then the paint Gibbons wanted was
"Ay!"
"Gibbons has gone too far! I say we elect a captain of our own. My vote goes to Cy Tompkins."
Alex A l red was the last speaker, and it was not until he had made his nomination that he was aware he was talking into a dead silence. All the excited clamor in the big room had vanished into thin air, and the puzzled man turned slowly around to stare at a trio of militiamen in side the doorway.
"Who is Cy Tompkins?" Lou Kersh asked A l red.; "Trot him out here." [
"This is a private meeting," Ken Hamlin said. "It's going to be, as soon as every Mex-lover in the place pulls stakes."
"We're getting a little tired of that," Hamlin coun tered. "All opposed to Gibbons get tarred with the same old brush."
"As soon as every Mex-lover pulls stakes," Kersh said again, as if the other man hadn't spoken. "Clears out of the country. Now, which one is Cy Tompkins?"
There was a pause, then the man cleared his throa t nervously and stepped forward. "My name is Tompkins,! he said.
"Do you accept the nomination?"
"What?"
"For captain of the home guard, mister. Are yo u number one here?"
"Give the fellow some peace," Hamlin s po k e "You've already done enough for one day."
"You're the big talker," Kersh told him. "Maybe yo u’re the one they want to rep them." "Hamlin is not concerned in this. It's my ranch you’ve moved on to." Tompkins walked three strides closer to the three gunmen. "If my friends want me," he said, "I'm their captain."
"All his friends raise their hands," Kersh said, and they all did. Kersh laughed. "Some friends," he said to the other pair and they laughed, too. "All right, Tompkins, let's go."
"Go where?"
"To the calabozo! Where the hell did you think? As of sundown this town's under martial law, and you're look ing at the provost marshal."
"But what's Tompkins done?" demanded Macintosh, outraged.
"What hasn't he done? Aiding and abetting an enemy of the State of Texas, inciting to riot, illegal assembly — Tompkins, you're a dangerous character to be running around loose. Let's go!"
The other two shifted position, gave each other arm room, and there was something not quite sane in the face of Lou Kersh, at least. He wanted them to force his hand.
"I'll go with you," Cy Tompkins said.
"Then take me as well," Jock Bryan volunteered. Alex A l red came forward at the same time.
Kersh shook his head.
"Just one criminal at a time," he said. "But if you're still here rabble-rousing when we get back, the rest will be accommodated."
The three of them left with Tompkins between them.
THIRTEEN
J ack Gibbons' strong point was his talent for improvising. Where another man might have been badly rattled by the unexpected and thoroughly unwanted turn of events at the MacKay ranch, Gibbons had a resilience of mind, a military man's inborn ability to go ice-calm in moments of stress, to think on the spot and by the very confidence he felt in himself quell the fears of others.
For there had been fear there in MacKay's yard, a real anxiety in the hearts of all those who had helped kill a Ranger. Gibbons had sensed it, and reacted with precision and poise. His somewhat remarkable decision was to pretend that the whole thing had never happened, that he and the men had never ridden this way; he had not so much as laid eyes on the girl; Mulchay had never arrived and there was no such person as Seth Keroon.
So he cleared them all out and headed the party west to Mulchay's range, for the same thought process that produced this solution also included the basic proposition that here was the land Malcolm Lord had hired him to usurp.
And always —in all ways—he had the threat of the Mexican invaders.
At Mulchay's house his riders continued to obey his crisply spoken orders, though they had no idea what the purpose was. First they strung up the bullet-riddled body to the same eaves where the four Mexicans had been lynched fifteen days ago. Then the paint Gibbons wanted was
Similar Books
