Free The H&R Cattle Company by Doug Bowman Page A

Rollins a new beer, then continued, “He’s not all bad, he just likes to fight. Even after he whips a man’s ass, he’ll usually stake him in a poker game or something, and he’s all the time buying drinks for men who don’t have any money.”
    Hunter spoke now: “He sounds like an interesting fellow.”
    â€œHe is. He’ll probably apologize when he sees you again, and want to shake the hand of the only man who’s ever put him on his ass.”
    Half an hour later, Rollins decided to take a hand in one of the poker games. Zack had no interest in gambling. He bought a newspaper and a magazine, then returned to the hotel room, where he read himself to sleep quickly.
    He was awakened by Rollins at sundown. “Not much money floating around this town,” Bret said, picking up the whiskey bottle that was still more than half full. He drank straight from the bottle, then wiped his mouth. “It’s easy to tell how tight money is—the gamblers won’t even bet more than a quarter on a pair of aces.” He took another sip of whiskey, replaced the bottle on the table and sat down on his bed. “I don’t know this for sure, but I believe you’re gonna be surprised when you learn how cheaply land can be bought around here.”
    Zack began to pull on his boots. “I like surprises. I’ll do some riding and looking tomorrow.”
    Rollins was on his feet again. “Well, I know you’ve always wanted a place of your own, and I want to see you get it. I think if you had a chunk of that property along the river, you’d wake up smiling every morning.”
    Zack reached for his hat and changed the subject. “I’m hungry, Bret. You want to try Toby’s T-Bone again?”
    â€œLead the way.”
    They took the restaurant’s only vacant table, located in the center of the room. As they seated themselves, both men noticed that Jiggs Odom was eating supper with two men a few tables away. “I hope to hell he don’t want to fight again,” Hunter said softly.
    Rollins pulled his chair closer to the table. “Don’t worry about it, Zack,” he said, reaching for the bill of fare. “There ain’t enough whiskey in this damn town to get him on you again.”
    They had scarcely ordered T-bone steaks from a smiling waiter when Odom approached their table, stopping beside Hunter’s chair. Despite the black eye, swollen cheeks and bruised lips, Odom’s face held a pleasant expression. Knowing that the man standing over him now had the advantage, Zack held his breath.
    Odom managed a smile. “Hope you ain’t got no hard feelin’s about me,” he said. “Sure ain’t none on my part.”
    Hunter shook his head.
    Odom made one step toward the front door, then stopped, turning to face Zack again. “I sure did misjudge you, mister,” he said, shaking his head. “I damn sure did.” Then he and his friends left the building.

6
    On Monday morning Zack was in the banker’s office discussing his desire to buy some land in the area.
    â€œI think you should look the old Franklin Place over,” McGrath said. “It’s fifteen miles west of town, bordered on the west by the Colorado River. A man who intends to stay put could do right well there.”
    Zack scratched his chin for a moment before speaking. “What size place are we talking about?”
    â€œThree sections. Old man Franklin never could make a go of it because the Indians kept him picked clean. All that’s over with now. The last Indian battle happened three years ago, and the Indians that escaped with their lives left the area. As I said, a man could do well over there now.
    â€œThe old man died two years ago from consumption, and his children are scattered to hell and gone. I’m authorized to sell the place for a dollar an acre. In fact, I’ll knock twenty dollars off the price