Free Novel 1954 - Utah Blaine (As Jim Mayo) (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Page A

his rage stifled. “All right, so Neal’s dead. That finishes you on this place.”
    “I’d not say so. If Neal had lived he might have fired me. As it is, he can’t. I was given a job. Nobody has taken me off. I plan to stay.”
    “Don’t be a fool!” Nevers burst out. “I’ve twenty men here! I’m takin’ over this spread right now.”
    “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Blaine replied quietly, “an’ if you do take over, Nevers, you’ll have fewer men than you’ve got now. And also,” he paused slightly, “I’ll be back.”
    “Not if you die now.”
    Blaine lifted his voice. “Boys, you’re backin’ this gent. Let’s see what kind of an Injun he is. Nevers, I’ll take you right now, with any man you pick to side you. I’ll take the two of you right here in the moonlight, Nevers. Come on, how much guts have you got?”
    It was the last thing in the world that Nevers had expected. Moreover, it was the last thing he wanted. With nerve enough for most purposes, he had no stomach for facing a gunfighter of Blaine’s reputation—not even with a man to help him. He knew, just as Blaine had known he would, that Blaine’s first shot would be for him—and it wouldn’t miss.
    Yet he knew how much depended on courageous leadership. Men, particularly Western men, do not follow cowards. He had been fairly called, and his mind groped for a way out, an excuse.
    “What’s the matter, Nevers? Not ready to die?” Utah taunted. “Don’t worry too much. My hands aren’t in the best shape right now, an’ you might have a chance.” He was stalling for time, trying to turn their attack, or at least to dull its force. “They took quite a hammering yesterday when I whipped Ortmann.”
    “When you what?”
    That was somebody back in the crowd, one of the silent riders who waited the outcome of this talk.
    From off to the left, Rip Coker spoke up. He wanted them to know he was there, too. “That’s right, boys. Blaine gave Ortmann the beating of his life. Called him right in his own place of business and whipped him good. Although,” he added, “I’d say Ort put up one hell of a scrap.”
    “Did you hear that?” One rider was speaking to another. “Utah Blaine whipped Ortmann—with his
fists!
”
    “Wish you gents would make up your minds to die,” Coker commented casually. “This here Colt shotgun is loadin’ my arms down.”
    Rip Coker was carrying a Winchester, but he was well back. He knew all they could see was light on his barrel. A Colt revolving shotgun carried four shells and no man in his right mind likes to buck a shotgun. It was a shrewd comment, well calculated to inspire distaste for battle in that vague light.
    “Yeah,” Timm’s voice came from the well coping. “You hombres make a right tempting target. This Spencer sure can’t miss at this range!”
    All was quiet. Nobody spoke for several minutes. Nevers held himself still, glad that attention was off him for the minute. He had no desire to meet Blaine with guns now or at any time, yet he knew of no easy way out of the situation he was in. He had been neatly and effectually out-guessed and it infuriated him. Moreover, with a kind of intuition he knew that the men behind him had lost their enthusiasm for the attack. Blaine was bad enough, but that shotgun…a blast from a shotgun did awful things to a man, and this gun held four shells. And there was the possibility of reloads before they could get to him.
    The Spencer .56 was no bargain either.
    “All right!” Blaine stepped forward suddenly, gauging their hesitancy correctly. “Show’s over for tonight. You boys want this ranch, you take it the hard way. Let’s start back.”
    Nevers found his voice. “All right,” he said evenly, “we’ll go. But come daylight, we’ll be back.”
    “Why sure! Glad to have you!” Blaine was chuckling. “Room enough on this place to bury the lot of you.”
    Slowly, those in the rear began to back off. None of them seemed anxious to