Free Where the Long Grass Blows (1976) by Louis L'amour

prevent it. There might be a chance to delay the hanging, if such it was to be. He had made up his mind there was to be no hanging. He knew nothing of Burt beyond the comments of those who mentioned him, but he sounded like the kind of a man Canavan liked. The very fact that those men were against him spoke in his favor.
    "What you so worried about, Pogue?" he drawled.
    Walt Pogue turned squarely around to face him.
    "Oh, it's you! What part do you have in this?"
    "None at all. Just wondering what all the excitement's about. From all I hear, the man was attacked and he defended himself ... did a mighty good job of it, too, I'd say. I'd say he did what a man should, and did it well. And he's no candidate for a lynching."
    "He killed a Box n man."
    "Seems to me a Box n man can die as well as any other. All three of them were grown-up men, and all three had guns, which makes it a fair fight.
    Seems kind of curious, too, why all the CR men are suddenly out of town. Are they that scared?"
    "This is none of your deal!" It was the man from Thousand Springs. "Was I you, I'd stay out of what doesn't concern you."
    Bill Canavan still leaned against the door, but slowly, carefully, contemptuously, he looked the man over, top to toe. Then he said gently, "Pogue, you've got a taste for knickknacks. If you want to take this boy home with you, you'd better keep him out of trouble."
    Angered, the rider took a quick step forward. "All right, damn you! You're askin' for it!"
    Pogue lifted a hand. "Forget it, Voyle!
    We've other fish to fry! You go look for Burt. I'll talk to Canavan."
    Voyle hesitated, eager for a fight, but Canavan did not move, lounging carelessly against the doorpost, a queer half-smile on his face.
    With an abrupt movement, Voyle turned away and spoke over his shoulder. "We'll talk about it another time, Canavan!"
    "Sure," Canavan drawled lazily.
    And then as a parting he said softly, "Want to bring Dahl with you?"
    Voyle caught himself in mid-stride, hunching his shoulders as if from an expected blow. He stopped then and stared back, shock, confusion, and uncertainty on his face.
    Canavan looked over at Pogue. "You carry some odd characters. That Voyle now? Touchy, isn't he?"
    Pogue was staring at him from under his brows.
    "What was that you said about Dahl? He's not one of my riders!"
    "Is that right?" Canavan smiled, then shrugged.
    "Well, you got to admit I haven't been here very long, and I don't know who rides for whom around here.
    Somehow or other I figured Dahl an' Voyle trailed their ropes together."
    Walt Pogue was annoyed and angry, and a little frightened. Why would Canavan tie those two together?
    Was he just talking or did he know something?
    How could he know anything? Another thought came to him. Where had Canavan come from, anyway? Who was he? What was he doing here, right now? So far as Pogue was aware, Dahl and Voyle were not even acquainted. Yet, thinking back to Voyle's startled reaction, he decided he did not like it, not any of it He walked to the coffee pot and filled a cup, adding cream and sugar liberally. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Canavan.
    May had come up behind him. "He's gone." she whispered. "He's not there!"
    There was dust on her dress. He slapped at it, and she hurriedly brushed the dust away. "Where was he shot?" he whispered.
    "In the upper leg, I think. He couldn't go far."
    Pogue stared at them. "What are you two whispering about?" he demanded.
    Canavan shrugged. "You are touchy. Can't a man talk to a pretty girl without you getting upset?
    I'd suggest you mind your own affairs."
    Pogue put down the coffee cup. "Now you just see here! Nobody talks to-was "Pogue," Canavan said quietly, "if I were you I would think very carefully before you say anything more. I don't work for you, and it isn't likely that I ever will. And nobody tells me when to talk to a girl, or how I talk back to a man. So just back off.
    ... Back off, I say!"
    For a moment, Pogue hesitated. He realized