Free Louis L'Amour by Hanging Woman Creek Page A

use, though. I ain’t got the cash, and ain’t likely to get it.”
    “But you know cattle. Couldn’t you pool your knowledge of cattle and range conditions with someone who has capital?”
    “How would a plain cowhand meet somebody like that?” I said.
    But then I commenced to think about it. All of a sudden I was getting all sorts of ideas in my head that had never been there before, and each one made me think of others.
    It was true that a lot of the biggest outfits in Wyoming were furnished with foreign financing and managed by local cattlemen.
    We talked about that, and she began asking questionsabout the country and where her brother lived and all, and she had a way of hitting on the right question every time, so telling her about it was easy. First thing I knew I was telling her what was wrong with her brother’s operation, and the trouble he was in with the big outfits. Most particularly, I told her about Roman Bohlen.
    She asked about rustling then, and how it was done, and I explained to her the use of a running iron or a cinch ring, and gave her some examples of how brands were altered, something every cowhand knew.
    Whilst I was explaining this to her it came over me how easy it would be to turn Bohlen’s RB brand into that Rafter 88 Chin Baker had mentioned. It looked to me as if that brand had been selected with a good deal of care.
    When the sun went down I headed into the trees along the Tongue. When we got down, it took me only a few minutes to put up a lean- to for her where she could sleep. Then I put together a fire, for I had a pretty good idea nobody was going to bother a man with a girl along. Not in that country, at that time. You could steal cattle or shoot a man and maybe get away with it, but if you bothered a decent woman you stood a good chance of getting lynched … even outlaws had been known to lynch a man for that.
    We sat out by the fire talking a long time after we finished eating. Seems there’s nothing like a pretty woman to inspire a man to talk a lot about himself. One thing sure, I decided after I rolled in my blankets, she was learning a whole lot more about me and about Montana than I was learning about Ireland or her.
    We were getting close to Farley’s place when she spotted the first PF steer. Now, it’s second nature for a cowhand to read brands. He rides across country and just naturally notices the brand on every crittur he passes, and without seeming to pay them any mind. He does it without thinking, because he has done it for so long. But this girl, she picked out that first PF very fast, and she was quick enough to make the connection.
    “That must be Philo’s brand.” She hesitated only a moment there, and then added, “And it could be changed into a Rafter 88, too, couldn’t it?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” And then, so she’d know what the situation was, I added more reluctantly, “And so could the RB, Bohlen’s brand be changed to Rafter 88.”
    “Of course.” She was thoughtful. “So that is why he suspects Philo.”
    “Not entirely. A good part of it is because no rancher likes a homesteader … a squatter. Whether they kill the rancher’s beef or not—and some do—he suspects them of it. What he hates just as much is the grass they use or plow up, and the water they may fence in.”
    “Is water so important?”
    “Uh-huh. There’s a-plenty now, because we had a good year, and there’ve been rains in the Big Horns lately, but in a dry year it can make things mighty mean. Ma’am, you get set for trouble if you figure on staying. Those ranchers don’t like your brother a bit.”
    She looked at me. “You ride for a big ranch, and you don’t have anything against him.”
    “No, I like him. He goes his own way, minds hisown business, and he stands up for his rights. But that’s all the more reason they don’t like him.”
    I drew rein. “It ain’t far now, Miss Farley, and I’d better tell you something. Back there in Miles City they are