scout.
"At dawn. But I want you to get a couple of hours start on us, just to make stire everything comes off aU right"
Alvord decided he had heard enough and prepared to move off. Just as he started to rise, his right foot went under the bed and struck something which rolled gently at his touch. Wriggling around, he reached under the bed—despite his general meanness Chisum liked to sleep oonifortably even when on the trail—and drew out the thing he kicked. For a moment he thought of retiun-ing the tubular object and then getting away from the trail camp. A memory crept through his head, recalling something his boss had said as they'd ridden back to Blantyre after the first meeting with Chisum. One way or another, Alvord thought, Tobi Slaughter might like to lay his hands on the thing me young scout now held.
It had been Alvord's intention to stir up and spook the Long Rail herd into a stampede that would take Chisum and his crew's minds off bothering the J.S. However, those leg-weary cattle would take some stirring, they were not going to be easy to scatter without using methods which woxild show straight off that a human agency had been at work. Charging down on the herd with a roaring Colt was out. Chisum could figure who stampeded his herd and would be looking for war.
Nope, any way a man looked at it, the best thing Alvord could do was head back to the ranch and warn the boss of the forthcoming raid. If Texas John could not figure out the best way to handle the matter, Alvord did not know his boss.
Silently Alvord slipped to the rear of the wagon and climbed out, carrying hiis trophy with him. None of the drinking, laughing party around the fire were in any shape to hear a lesser sound than a charging herd of buffalo, and Alvord traveled a whole lot quieter than that.
Just as Alvord's feet touched the ground, he heard men approaching. Instantly he froze, his right arm held the trophy, but the left turned palm out and lifted the near-side Colt. While he did not wish to announce his presence by shooting, Alvord had no intention of being captured by Chisimi's crew.
"Reckon theyTl feel the same way in the morning, boss?" asked the voice of Chisum's segundo.
"We'll keep 'em steamed up late tonight. Comes 74
morning, they'll have bad enough heads to be mean enough for any devilment/' Chisum answered. *1 tell you, Base, I aim to fix Slaughter. No man makes a fool of me twice and Hves."
Fortunately for Chismn, though not for various people around Lincoln County, New Mexico, who were to die in the range war Chisum's activities helped to stir up in later years, the Cattle King and his segundo did not reach the bed wagon. One of the drinMng "warriors'* yelled out a request for Chisum to tell them the story of ole Frank and the preacher. Turning, Chisum returned to the fire and started the hiunorous, if unprintable story.
Holstering his Colt, Alvord slipped away, fading silently oflF into the night and heading for his waiting horse. The Appaloosa had not moved far and Alvord unfastened the bedroll from his saddle, wrapped the trophy inside it and strapped it back in place on the can-tie. He adjusted the saddle and bridle, then removed the hobbles. Swinging afork the Appaloosa's back, Alvord headed it in a straight line for the Slaughter ranch house.
It said much for Alvord's skill as a rider, and the superb breeding and stamina of the Appaloosa, that at around two in the morning he saw the J.S. house and heard the blue-tick's ringing, warning bay. Five minutes later he was gasping the news of what he had heard at Chisum's camp to his half-naked, grim-eyed boss.
"Go into the sitting room, Burt," Bess Slaughter ordered. "I'll fix you a drink. Boy, you look plumb tuckered out."
The soimd of Alvord's arrival had disturbed the ranch crew and brought Washita Trace and Tex Burton from the bimkhouse to investigate. Tucking their shirts into their pants, the two men ran toward the house, wondering why their boss carried
"At dawn. But I want you to get a couple of hours start on us, just to make stire everything comes off aU right"
Alvord decided he had heard enough and prepared to move off. Just as he started to rise, his right foot went under the bed and struck something which rolled gently at his touch. Wriggling around, he reached under the bed—despite his general meanness Chisum liked to sleep oonifortably even when on the trail—and drew out the thing he kicked. For a moment he thought of retiun-ing the tubular object and then getting away from the trail camp. A memory crept through his head, recalling something his boss had said as they'd ridden back to Blantyre after the first meeting with Chisum. One way or another, Alvord thought, Tobi Slaughter might like to lay his hands on the thing me young scout now held.
It had been Alvord's intention to stir up and spook the Long Rail herd into a stampede that would take Chisum and his crew's minds off bothering the J.S. However, those leg-weary cattle would take some stirring, they were not going to be easy to scatter without using methods which woxild show straight off that a human agency had been at work. Charging down on the herd with a roaring Colt was out. Chisum could figure who stampeded his herd and would be looking for war.
Nope, any way a man looked at it, the best thing Alvord could do was head back to the ranch and warn the boss of the forthcoming raid. If Texas John could not figure out the best way to handle the matter, Alvord did not know his boss.
Silently Alvord slipped to the rear of the wagon and climbed out, carrying hiis trophy with him. None of the drinking, laughing party around the fire were in any shape to hear a lesser sound than a charging herd of buffalo, and Alvord traveled a whole lot quieter than that.
Just as Alvord's feet touched the ground, he heard men approaching. Instantly he froze, his right arm held the trophy, but the left turned palm out and lifted the near-side Colt. While he did not wish to announce his presence by shooting, Alvord had no intention of being captured by Chisimi's crew.
"Reckon theyTl feel the same way in the morning, boss?" asked the voice of Chisum's segundo.
"We'll keep 'em steamed up late tonight. Comes 74
morning, they'll have bad enough heads to be mean enough for any devilment/' Chisum answered. *1 tell you, Base, I aim to fix Slaughter. No man makes a fool of me twice and Hves."
Fortunately for Chismn, though not for various people around Lincoln County, New Mexico, who were to die in the range war Chisum's activities helped to stir up in later years, the Cattle King and his segundo did not reach the bed wagon. One of the drinMng "warriors'* yelled out a request for Chisum to tell them the story of ole Frank and the preacher. Turning, Chisum returned to the fire and started the hiunorous, if unprintable story.
Holstering his Colt, Alvord slipped away, fading silently oflF into the night and heading for his waiting horse. The Appaloosa had not moved far and Alvord unfastened the bedroll from his saddle, wrapped the trophy inside it and strapped it back in place on the can-tie. He adjusted the saddle and bridle, then removed the hobbles. Swinging afork the Appaloosa's back, Alvord headed it in a straight line for the Slaughter ranch house.
It said much for Alvord's skill as a rider, and the superb breeding and stamina of the Appaloosa, that at around two in the morning he saw the J.S. house and heard the blue-tick's ringing, warning bay. Five minutes later he was gasping the news of what he had heard at Chisum's camp to his half-naked, grim-eyed boss.
"Go into the sitting room, Burt," Bess Slaughter ordered. "I'll fix you a drink. Boy, you look plumb tuckered out."
The soimd of Alvord's arrival had disturbed the ranch crew and brought Washita Trace and Tex Burton from the bimkhouse to investigate. Tucking their shirts into their pants, the two men ran toward the house, wondering why their boss carried
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