Free Song of Eagles by William W. Johnstone Page A

those lily-livered ranchers in line, I can tell you.”
    Dolan frowned. “Things are different now, Major. La Placita is losing more business every day to that damned Tunstall store, and to make matters worse Tunstall has been writing letters to the army complaining about the quality of meat and flour we’ve been selling to the Mescaleros.”
    Brady nodded. “Yeah, and the bastard’s even wrote the U.S. Attorney in Santa Fe tellin’ ’em I haven’t been sending in the tax money I’ve been collectin’ here in Lincoln County. He’s damn sure gettin’ too big for his britches, all right.”
    â€œWhat about that new hand he’s hired, calls himself the Kid?”
    Brady shrugged. “I couldn’t find no papers on him, or his friend MacCallister.”
    Leaning back in his chair with his boots on the table, Jesse Evans said, “I rode with him for a while, played some cards with him over at Fort Stanton ’fore he came to work for Tunstall. He talked like he had a past, some trouble back in Arizona, I believe.”
    â€œArizona, huh?” Brady asked. “I’ll wire the sheriff over there and see if he knows anything. Might be a way to get back at Tunstall, get rid of some of those gunnies he’s been hiring.”
    â€œYou do that, William,” Dolan said, “first thing in the morning. Now, why don’t you leave us to talk some business you’re better off not knowing?”
    Brady climbed to his feet and nodded. “I’ll do what I can, J.J..”
    â€œYou’d better, or that percentage you own in the store and bank here that I gave you won’t be worth a damn to you,” Dolan said.
    After the sheriff left, Dolan turned to Riley. “You said anything to Jesse yet?”
    â€œNo.”
    Dolan turned to refill his glass. “Then tell him what we want.”
    Riley leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “It’s getting too expensive to buy our meat from the ranchers. Profits are down. We want you and your gang to start raiding Chisum’s herd for cattle. We’ll buy all you can steal, at good prices, and we’ll make sure Sheriff Brady doesn’t connect you to the rustling.”
    Evans pulled a toothpick from between his lips, made a cigarette, and struck a lucifer on his pant leg. After he lighted the cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling, he looked over at Riley.
    â€œJohn, I take it you wouldn’t be too disappointed if some of Chisum’s men were to get . . . slightly hurt during our raids on his cattle.”
    Riley’s lips curled up in a sneer. “We’d be most appreciative for any assistance you could give us in lowering the number of gunhands Chisum has available.”
    Dolan turned from refilling his drink. “It wouldn’t be amiss if you got some of the cattle from Tunstall’s spread, too, Jesse.”
    Evans shook his head. “That would be a mite more difficult. His Rio Feliz ranch is down on the Pecos River, and it’d be mighty tough to drive stolen beeves across it in the darkness. Plus, it ain’t near as big and spread out as Chisum’s range is. His men would most likely catch us in the act, and I don’t suppose you want a full scale war, do you?”
    Dolan pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not just yet, Jesse, but soon . . . soon.”
    Evans smiled, hands resting on the twin Colts he wore on each hip. “Then, since I’m going to be in the cattle business, I guess I’d better get to work.”
    Murphey staggered to his feet and poured himself another drink of whiskey, spilling more than he got in his glass.
    â€œDamn, Jimmy, things have been going to hell since I sold out to you. Just haven’t been the same since the colonel died.”
    Dolan frowned at Murphey. “Major, when Colonel Fritz hired me, you and he were barely making a profit off your meat contracts. If you’ll try to