Free Lone Star 01 by Wesley Ellis Page B

sporting bristly muttonchops, his once handsome face and deep-socketed eyes webbed with lines of dissipation. And it was obvious from his apparel that he was more accustomed to rich city reveling than hardscrabble ranch life, wearing as he was a pair of flat-heeled patent-leather shoes, a square-crowned Governor hat, and a dark brown town suit of expensive broadcloth, its jacket unbuttoned to relieve his paunch.
    The tense silence stretched on, until Tobias Melville rocked back and remarked affably, “Sure got peaceful of a sudden.”
    â€œYes, well, where’re my manners?” Daryl said hastily, clearing his throat. “Dad, I’d like you to meet Miss Jessie Starbuck.”
    â€œHeard something about you this morning,” the father said, grinning. His gaunt face was creased with wrinkles, but his eyes, as black as his son‘s, were sharp and bright as he looked Jessica over. He seemed to like what he saw. “Call me Toby, Jessie.”
    â€œAnd her friend, Ki,” Daryl continued.
    â€œHeard about you too, feller. But you ain’t Mexican.”
    â€œMexican?” Ki echoed, nonplussed.
    â€œAin’t Mexicans the ones who’re best with knives?”
    â€œPa!” Daryl snapped, scowling afresh. But Toby just continued grinning unregenerately, looking incredibly chipper after his long bout of drinking. Jessica, smothering a laugh, thought it was amazing, the vitality these leathery old ranchers seemed to have.
    Forging ahead, Daryl said, “Cap’n Ryker? Let me intro—”
    â€œWe’re aquainted,” Ryker cut in, a sharp edge to his mellow voice. “That is, we know each other by reputation. As president of Acme Packers, I am well aware of my competitors, of which Starbuck is definitely one. As I’m sure Starbuck is similarly aware of me.”
    â€œOh, you bet we are,” Jessica said.
    â€œThe Captain’s trying to buy us out,” Toby explained, obviously tickled by his chance to stir things up. “Plans to run us together with the Flying W, when he takes that place over, too.”
    â€œNow, now, Mr. Melville, I said no such thing to you.”
    â€œBut that’s what you’ve got in mind, ain’t it, Cap’n?”
    â€œWell, I suppose I’m forced to admit it is,” Ryker replied gravely, and turned from Toby to Jessica. “To be perfectly honest, Miss Starbuck, my company needs the same thing yours does—a constant, reliable supply of beef without the fluctuating prices and conditions we’ve all experienced. I’m here on behalf of Acme, trying to persuade the smaller ranchers to sell out to one large combine, rather than join a cooperative of the sort you’ve been attempting to establish. I’m afraid that if I succeed, the ranches involved would no longer be able to honor their commitments with Starbuck.”
    Jessica clucked her tongue and looked downcast. “You understand if I hope your plans fail. But will you be staying permanently?”
    â€œGoodness, no. When my negotiations are finished, win or lose, I’ll leave whatever I’ve obtained in capable hands, and move on.”
    â€œThen you might as well move on from here, Cap’n Ryker,” Daryl said sternly. “Unless you’re willing to meet our price.”
    â€œThirty thousand?” Ryker’s chuckle was amiable. “My good man, I could buy all of Eucher Butte for that much money.”
    â€œBe my guest. Halford and Kendrick mightn’t agree, though.”
    â€œAh, yes, Kendrick. Now listen, I’m offering a fair price, more than a fair price, almost double what you owe Kendrick—what, in effect, you’d be getting for your ranch by turning it over to him.”
    â€œDon’t intend to settle for Kendrick’s price, either. We intend to keep it for all it’s worth. Thirty thousand worth.”
    â€œYou may not have that choice much longer,” Ryker