Read the High Graders (1965) for Free Online

few things: to make his own way in th e world; to accept nothing he had not earned.
    That had been little enough on which to build a lif e until, after leaving his uncle's claim, he ha d come to Rafter and met Eli Patterson, an d afterwards Jack Moorman. Instinctively h e honored these men who stood staunchly by what the y believed. The thought of these men was in his mind now.
    The Bon-Ton Restaurant, just down th e street, was still Open. Mike crossed over an d went down the walk. Opening the door of th e restaurant, he stepped inside.
    The coal-oil lamps with reflectors behind the m filled the room with light. There were severa l unoccupied small tables, and two long table s covered with white cloths, for family-styl e meals. A sideboard covered with glasses an d stacks of plates stood against the wall; on it s right a door opened to the kitchen.
    Three men, apparently miners off shift, sa t together at the end of the nearest table. At the far en d of the other table sat two men, one in the roug h clothes of the frontier, the other in a well-tailored dark gray suit.
    Shevlin dropped to a seat on the bench at th e nearest table, admiring the smooth expanse o f white linen. The last time he had eaten i n this restaurant the tables were covered with oilcloth.
    The waitress brought him coffee, and over i t he began to consider the situation. He must tal k to Mason. He felt a curious reluctanc e to meet Gentry ... after all, the man had bee n his comrade, they had worked and fought side by side.
    Now he thought that Gentry might become his enemy , and he did not want that.
    But Gentry must be protecting somebody. I f he had not killed Eli himself--and Brazos' e vidence implied he had not--he knew who ha d killed him.
    But why should Gentry go out on a lim b to protect someone else? Who was that importan t to him? It was unlike Gentry to take credit fo r another man's killing ... especially the killin g of Eli Patterson.
    As Mike Shevlin drank his coffee, h e looked at the two men at the other table. The ma n in the tailored suit looked familiar, bu t Mike's attention was diverted by one of the miners a t his own table. He was a stocky, red-headed man , who had been staring hard at Mike, tryin g to attract his eyes.
    "You've come to the wrong town," the miner sai d suddenly; "we ran all the cattlemen out of her e long ago."
    Mike Shevlin smiled pleasantly. "I' m double-action--cattle or mines. I can swing a single-jack or double-jack as good as the nex t man."
    "Where'd you ever work in the mines?"
    "All over the country. Silverton , Colorado ... down in the Cerbat Range i n Arizona ... over at Pioche and Frisco."
    "They're full up here. Nobody hirin'."
    "Doesn't look like I'll find a job , then, does it?" The redhead was trouble-hunting. Th e type and the pattern were familiar. There was one in ever y town, always trying to prove how tough he was ... s ometimes there was more than one. And they were rarely th e really hard cases. They had nothing to prove.
    Deliberately, Mike kept his tone mild.
    He understood the pattern and accepted it, but i f Red wanted to push trouble he must do it on his own.
    He would get no trouble from Shevlin. There wa s trouble enough without that.
    At the other table the man in frontier clothe s looked around. "If you're a miner, I can us e you," he said. "I'm Burt Parry--I've got a claim in Cottonwoo d Canyon. If you're serious about a job, mee t me at six-thirty for breakfast here, and we'l l ride out."
    Parry got up from the table. "I'll have thos e figures for you, Mr. Merriam," he said to th e man in the gray suit. "I'll have them tomorrow or th e day after."
    He paused by Shevlin's table. "Tomorrow morning , six-thirty ... right?"
    "I'll see you," Shevlin said. "I'll b e here."
    The waitress placed a dish of food befor e him, and he picked up his knife and fork.
    Merriam, the man had said. That would be Clag g Merriam. Mike had seen him only once o r twice in the old days, for Merriam was often