Free Robber's Roost (1989) by Zane Grey Page A

he had appeared at first.
    "Herrick reckons there are upwards of ten thousand head of stock on the range. Some of these Mormons he bought out sold without a count. I bought half a dozen herds for Herrick. An' I underestimated say rough calculatin' around two thousand head. So there's twelve thousand good. Thet's a herd, fellers. Can it be drove?"
    "Are we a lot of cowboys?" queried Lincoln, scornfully.
    "No, an' neither air we a lot of rustlers," resumed Hays, just as sarcastically. "If you can't help me figger, why, just keep still. . . . Air there any of you who wouldn't care to play a game for twelve thousand head of cattle at forty dollars per?"
    There did not appear to be a single one.
    "Ahuh. Wal, thet's okay. Now can we drive such a big herd?" Hays this time directed his query at Jim.
    "How far?" asked Jim.
    "Fifty miles. Fair to middlin' road. We can meet buyers there who'll pay an' no questions asked. No stiff count."
    "Yes. With eight riders well mounted it can be done in three days-- provided they don't have to fight."
    "Aha!" said Smoky puffing a cloud of smoke.
    "Wal, we'd have to fight shore as hell. An' Heeseman's outfit is bigger than ours."
    "No sense in stealin' stock for some other outfit," added Brad Lincoln.
    "Agree with you," returned Hays, promptly. "I didn't like the idee. But it's so damn easy!"
    "Boss, listen to this idee," spoke up Smoky. "Most of these Star cattle range down the valley twenty miles below here. How'd it do for say five of us to quit Herrick an' hide below somewhere?
    Meanwhile you go to Grand Junction an' arrange to have your buyers expect a bunch of cattle every week. A thousand to two thousand head. We'd make the drives an' keep it up as long as it worked.
    You're boss, an' Wall here is foreman. You could keep the cowboys close to the ranch."
    "Smoky, it's shore a big idee," declared Hays, enthusiastically.
    "But what about Heeseman?"
    "Wal, we couldn't keep it from him."
    "Not very long, anyway."
    "Heeseman's the rub. We gotta do away with him."
    "Let's clean out his bunch."
    Hays shook his shaggy head over these various replies.
    "Fellers, if we pick a fight with thet outfit, some of us will get killed an' others crippled. Then we couldn't pull the deal. A better idee is for one of us to kill Heeseman."
    "Reckon it would. Thet'd bust the outfit."
    "Who'd you pick on to do thet, Hank?"
    Jeff Bridges boomed out: "Why, Smoky, of course, or Brad."
    "Nope," said Hays, shaking his head. "With all thet's due Smoky an' Brad I wouldn't choose either. Jim, here, is the man for thet job."
    "An' why?" demanded Smoky, in the queerest of tones.
    Whether he was insulted or jealous would have been difficult to say.
    "Wal, for two reasons. Jim has it on any of us handlin' a gun, an' second--"
    "How do you know thet?" interposed Lincoln, acidly.
    "Hell's fire!" burst out Hays, suddenly ablaze. "There you go, you ---- ---- ----! I suppose you think I ought to let you try Jim out? Wal, you can gamble on this. If I did we'd be two men out."
    His fiery intensity silenced them. Jim personally was relieved to see this little by-play. It showed Hays was a strong leader and it gave a line on the testy Slocum and the taciturn Lincoln.
    "Go on, boss. I'm shore we figger you have the best for all of us at heart," spoke up Mac, for the first time. "You never played no favorites."
    "Jim, it'd be murder for you to throw a gun on Heeseman," said Hays, spreading wide his hands.
    "I'm like Brad. How do you know that?" rejoined Jim, coolly.
    "Wal, Heeseman's gifts don't lie thet way. He's killed a couple of men that I know of. But I'll bet I can go pick a quarrel with him an' do it myself. To be dead certain, though, we'd better sic Jim on him. Besides, Heeseman doesn't know Jim."
    "If you ask me, I say the better plan is to waylay Heeseman an' his outfit," said Lincoln. "Do for him sure an' all or most of his men. There's a couple of rattlesnakes among them."
    "Waylay them, huh," mused Hays, scratching his