Read Dutchmans Flat (Ss) (1986) for Free Online Page A

belongs to me. I intend to get it back!"
    Van Hardin smiled. "Evidently, yuh aren't aware of what happened here," he said quietly.
    "Your Uncle John was in a noncombatant outfit durin' the war, was he not? Well, while he was gone, the ranch he had claimed was abandoned. Soderman and I started to run cattle on that range and the land that was claimed by Bill London. No claim to the range was asserted by anyone. We made improvements, and then durin' our temporary absence with a trail herd, John Gentry and Bill London returned and moved in. Naturally, when we returned the case was taken to court. The court ruled the ranches belonged to Soderman and myself."
    "And the cattle?" Tack asked. "What of the cattle my uncle owned?"
    Hardin shrugged. "The brand had been taken over by the new owners and registered in their name. As I understand it, yuh left with a trail herd immediately after yuh came back to Texas. My claim was originally asserted during yore uncle's absence.
    I could," he smiled, "lay claim to the money yuh got from that trail herd. Where is it?"
    "Suppose yuh find out?" Tack replied. "I'm goin' to tell yuh one thing: I'm goin' to find who murdered my uncle, if it was Soderman or not. I'm also goin' to fight yuh in court. Now, if yuh'll excuse me," he turned his eyes to Betty who had stood wide-eyed and silent, "I'd like to talk to Bill London."
    "He can't see yuh," Hardin said. "He's asleep." Gentry's eyes hardened. "You runnin' this place too?"
    "Betty London is going to work for me," Hardin replied. "We may be married later, so in a sense, I'm speaking for her."
    "Is that right?" Tack demanded, his eyes meeting Betty's. Her face was miserable.
    "I'm afraid it is, Tack."
    "You've forgotten your promise, then?" he demanded. "Things-things changed, Tack," she faltered. "I-I can't talk about it."
    "I reckon, Gentry," Olney interrupted, "it's time yuh rode on. There's nothin' in this neck of the woods for yuh. You've played out your hand here. Ride on, and you'll save yourself a lot of trouble. They're hirin' hands over on the Pecos."
    "I'm stayin'," Gentry said flatly.
    "Remember," Olney warned, "I'm the sheriff. At the first sign of trouble, I'll come lookin' for yuh."
    Gentry swung into the saddle. His eyes shifted to Betty's face, and for an instant, she seemed about to speak. Then he turned and rode away. He did not look back. It was not until after he was gone that he remembered Button and Blackie.
    To think they were in the possession of Hardin and Olney! The twin blacks he had reared and worked with, training them to do tricks, teaching them all the lore of the cow-country horses and much more.
    The picture was clear now. In the year in which he had been gone these men had come in, asserted their claims, taken them to carpetbag courts, and made them stick. Backing their legal claims with guns, they had taken over the country with speed and finesse.
    At every turn, he was blocked. Betty had turned against him. Bill London was either a prisoner in his own house or something else was wrong. Olney was sheriff, and probably they had their own judge.
    He could quit. He could pull out and go on to the Pecos. It would be the easiest way. It was even what Uncle John might have wished him to do, for John Gentry was a peace-loving man. Tack Gentry was of another breed. His father had been killed fighting Comanches, and Tack had gone to war when a mere boy. Uncle John had found a place for himself in a noncombatant outfit, but Tack had fought long and well.
    His ride north with the trail herd had been rough and bloody. Twice they had fought off Indians, and once they had mixed it with rustlers. In Ellsworth, a gunman named Paris had made trouble that ended with Paris dead on the floor.
    Tack had left town in a hurry, ridden to the new camp at Dodge, and then joined a trail herd headed for Wyoming. Indian fighting had been the order of the day, and once, rounding up a bunch of steers lost from the herd in a stampede, Tack had