grabbed iron, too, and Johnny yelled.
The cook swung his head and Johnny's pistol came up. Johnny shot and swung his gun.
Calkins backed away, hands high and his head shaking.
Guns were barking, and Johnny turned. Lasker was down and Hoyt was weaving on his feet. Hoyt stared at Lasker. "We had him, Freck an' me, just like we figured! Had him boxed, in a cross-fire! Then you-to " His gun came up and Johnny fired, then fired again. Hoyt went down and rolled over.
Johnny wheeled on Calkins. "Drop your belt!" His voice was hard. "Now get in there an' get some hot water!"
He moved swiftly to Betty. "Are you all right?" Her face was pale, her eyes wide and shocked. "All right," she whispered. "I'll be all right."
Johnny ran to Lasker. The cowhand lay sprawled on the ground and he had been shot twice. Once through the chest, once through the side. But he was still alive. ...
Bart Gavin and four hands rode in an hour later.
Gavin stopped abruptly when he saw the bodies, then came on in. Betty ran to him.
Johnny came to the door. "Me an' Dan," he said, "we had us a run-in with some rustlers. In the shootout Dan was wounded. With luck, he'll make it."
Bart Gavin had one arm around his niece. "Betty saw Hoyt take you out, but we thought she was imagining things, so when she couldn't make us believe, she took off on her own. Naturally, we trailed her ... and found her note and your map, traced out."
Gavin saw Calkins. His face grew stern.
"What's he doin' here?"
Johnny said quietly, "He stayed out of it. He was rustlin', but when it came to Betty, he stayed out. I told him we'd let him go."
Inside the cabin they stood over Lasker. He was conscious, and he looked up at them. "That was white, mighty white of you."
"Need you," Johnny said quietly. "Gavin just told me he fired Lamson. He said he'd been watchin" my work, an' I'm the new foreman.
You're workin' for me now."
"For us," Betty said. "As long as he wants."
Lasker grinned faintly. "Remember what I said, kid? That some of the high-toned gals were thoroughbreds?"
The Outlaws Of Mesquite (ss) (1990)
*
No Rest for the Wicked Author's Note:
It takes two kinds of men to develop a mining country: the men who find the mines and the men who develop them, and they are rarely the same person.
The prospector, the discoverer, is not often equipped in money and the business ability to open up and develop a mine. Many of them sold their claim off for what seemed nothing. And yet it was to them a great deal. And if they'd persisted in operating, their mines they might have lost everything.
Some men only wanted what they could take out by themselves. They kept their discoveries a secret, going back again and again to take out what they needed, and when they died-of disease, accident, or gun play-the mine's location was lost.
From the ridge on my Colorado ranch I can look across a bunch of mountains where there are dozens of lost mines. At least two of them are somewhere in the range of my vision. Find them? It isn't easy.
It's a big, big country and prospecting is a slow, painstaking operation. Since prospectors gave up the burro for the Jeep, fewer mines are found. Jeeps can't go into the roughest country, and many of the best mines were found at places where no man in his right mind would want to go.
The Outlaws Of Mesquite (ss) (1990)
*
T he bat-wing doors slammed open as if struck by a charging steer and he stood there, framed for an instant in the doorway, a huge man with a golden beard and magnificent shoulders.
Towering five inches over six feet and weighing no less than two hundred and fifty pounds, he appeared from out of the desert like some suddenly reincarnated primeval giant.
He was dirty, not with the dirt of indigence, but with the dust and grime of travel. He smelled of the trail, and his cheekbones had a desert bronze upon them. As he strode to the bar there was something reckless and arrogant about him that raised the hackles on the back of my
The cook swung his head and Johnny's pistol came up. Johnny shot and swung his gun.
Calkins backed away, hands high and his head shaking.
Guns were barking, and Johnny turned. Lasker was down and Hoyt was weaving on his feet. Hoyt stared at Lasker. "We had him, Freck an' me, just like we figured! Had him boxed, in a cross-fire! Then you-to " His gun came up and Johnny fired, then fired again. Hoyt went down and rolled over.
Johnny wheeled on Calkins. "Drop your belt!" His voice was hard. "Now get in there an' get some hot water!"
He moved swiftly to Betty. "Are you all right?" Her face was pale, her eyes wide and shocked. "All right," she whispered. "I'll be all right."
Johnny ran to Lasker. The cowhand lay sprawled on the ground and he had been shot twice. Once through the chest, once through the side. But he was still alive. ...
Bart Gavin and four hands rode in an hour later.
Gavin stopped abruptly when he saw the bodies, then came on in. Betty ran to him.
Johnny came to the door. "Me an' Dan," he said, "we had us a run-in with some rustlers. In the shootout Dan was wounded. With luck, he'll make it."
Bart Gavin had one arm around his niece. "Betty saw Hoyt take you out, but we thought she was imagining things, so when she couldn't make us believe, she took off on her own. Naturally, we trailed her ... and found her note and your map, traced out."
Gavin saw Calkins. His face grew stern.
"What's he doin' here?"
Johnny said quietly, "He stayed out of it. He was rustlin', but when it came to Betty, he stayed out. I told him we'd let him go."
Inside the cabin they stood over Lasker. He was conscious, and he looked up at them. "That was white, mighty white of you."
"Need you," Johnny said quietly. "Gavin just told me he fired Lamson. He said he'd been watchin" my work, an' I'm the new foreman.
You're workin' for me now."
"For us," Betty said. "As long as he wants."
Lasker grinned faintly. "Remember what I said, kid? That some of the high-toned gals were thoroughbreds?"
The Outlaws Of Mesquite (ss) (1990)
*
No Rest for the Wicked Author's Note:
It takes two kinds of men to develop a mining country: the men who find the mines and the men who develop them, and they are rarely the same person.
The prospector, the discoverer, is not often equipped in money and the business ability to open up and develop a mine. Many of them sold their claim off for what seemed nothing. And yet it was to them a great deal. And if they'd persisted in operating, their mines they might have lost everything.
Some men only wanted what they could take out by themselves. They kept their discoveries a secret, going back again and again to take out what they needed, and when they died-of disease, accident, or gun play-the mine's location was lost.
From the ridge on my Colorado ranch I can look across a bunch of mountains where there are dozens of lost mines. At least two of them are somewhere in the range of my vision. Find them? It isn't easy.
It's a big, big country and prospecting is a slow, painstaking operation. Since prospectors gave up the burro for the Jeep, fewer mines are found. Jeeps can't go into the roughest country, and many of the best mines were found at places where no man in his right mind would want to go.
The Outlaws Of Mesquite (ss) (1990)
*
T he bat-wing doors slammed open as if struck by a charging steer and he stood there, framed for an instant in the doorway, a huge man with a golden beard and magnificent shoulders.
Towering five inches over six feet and weighing no less than two hundred and fifty pounds, he appeared from out of the desert like some suddenly reincarnated primeval giant.
He was dirty, not with the dirt of indigence, but with the dust and grime of travel. He smelled of the trail, and his cheekbones had a desert bronze upon them. As he strode to the bar there was something reckless and arrogant about him that raised the hackles on the back of my
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