Free Talon & Chantry 07 - North To The Rails (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour

driven the steer where he belonged he dropped back, riding beside Chantry.
    They had fallen back to be clear of some of the dust and to keep an eye on any laggards that might cut out for the flanks.
    “Quite a whippin’ you gave Koch,” McKay commented, “an’ he had it comin’.”
    “There’s a difference,” Chantry said, “between a man who doesn’t want to kill anybody and a man who’s afraid. He just wasn’t reading the sign right.”
    “You be careful,” McKay said. “He’s been talkin’ that it ain’t over.”
    At the nooning Chantry rode in to switch horses, and got his saddle on the little buckskin that was one of the horses allotted for him to ride. He planned to scout wide of the herd that day, as he went to the wagon for his rifle.
    As he stepped up to the wagon he heard Koch grumbling about something nearby, then heard his voice suddenly grow quiet. He read nothing into it, but had just drawn his rifle clear of the wagon when Koch said, “All right, you blasted tenderfoot! Now you got a gun, turn an’ start shootin’.”
    The rifle barrel was in Tom’s left hand, which gripped it close to the fore-sight. Koch was not more than a dozen feet from him, and Tom wheeled sharply, swinging the rifle. As he came around he let it go, sending it flying toward the big man’s face.
    Koch ducked and Tom Chantry lunged at him. The big man staggered, caught his balance and swung the gun around, but it went off of itself before he brought it into line. With the smashing report the cattle suddenly lunged and were running.
    Chantry hit Koch with his shoulder, knocked him sprawling, then fell on him, knees in the big man’s belly. Without moving a knee, Chantry swung two hard punches at his face. Then he leaped back and, as Koch started to rise, smashed him in the face with his knee.
    Men had leaped to the saddle and were plunging after the stampeding cattle, which were frightened by the sudden shot.
    Chantry waited a moment for Koch to get up, but thoroughly angry now, he walked up to him and struck him twice in the face before Koch could lift his hands, hit him in the belly, and then when he started to fall forward, brought a hammer blow down on his kidneys.
    “You’re fired, Koch,” he said. “Get your outfit and get out. I don’t ever want to see you around again…anywhere.” Chantry picked up his rifle and walked to his horse.
    He rode out, swept wide, and began gathering cattle, pushing them toward the center. He gathered about twenty head, and then came upon a bunch that had slowed to a walk, and started them all back. Hay Gent joined him with a dozen head.
    “What happened back there?” Gent asked.
    “With Koch? I whipped him again, and then I fired him.”
    “What if he won’t stay fired?”
    “He will.”
    “But if he don’t?”
    “Then I’ll whip him again, and again, until he stays fired.”
    Gent made no comment, and they drove the cattle in, meeting McKay, Helvie, and Rugger also bringing in cattle. It was the work of hours, but slowly the cattle were all gathered.
    “We’ll move on,” French said. “Maybe there’s water up ahead.” He looked around. “Where’s Koch?”
    They were all listening. “I fired him,” Chantry replied. “That shot started the stampede. This is no place to be settling personal grudges.”
    Williams looked at him thoughtfully. “We’ll be shorthanded,” he said. And he added, “He’ll carry a grudge. Likely he’ll lay for you.”
    “He’ll have company then,” Chantry said.
    “What’s that mean?” Williams asked quickly.
    “Men leave tracks, French. I’m not so much a tenderfoot that I can’t read sign.”
    They were all looking at him, but he left it at that, and the cattle started to move.
    Riding out from the herd, he found a promontory and rode cautiously up the side to look over the ridge and survey the country. A few miles ahead and off to the right of the trail there was a hollow with a touch of deeper green.
    Half an