Free Passin' Through (1985) by Louis L'amour

oak and tucked the butt against his shoulder. When he done that, I squeezed off a shot. Now, I was of no mind to kill him unless he made it necessary, but I knew what I could do with a rifle, and my bullet slapped that tree trunk right close to his face. Of course, he might have moved into my line of fire, but he didn't. That bullet spat bark fragments in his face and he dropped his rifle like it was red-hot and hit the dirt.
    Just for luck I moved over a few paces and put a bullet into the dirt under one man's feet. It was that same gent who looped the rope over my head at the hangin'.
    Well, they left out of there. They'd come to scare some women, not to be shot at themselves. They hit their saddles like they'd been scalded and they raised some dust gettin' off down the trail, afraid they'd be shot at again.
    Taking two cartridges from my belt, I fed them into the rifle, where I'd be apt to need them. Setting there, just resting. I thought back to that girl I'd seen over at Parrott City, and why she had looked at me as she had. She wasn't anybody I remembered knowing, although she was looking at me like she knew me. Or had she just heard talk around and was curious?
    Matty was at the door when I came up on the porch. "I heard shooting?"
    "They were fixin' to shoot at the house so I dusted 'em a mite to sort of change their minds."
    Shadows were falling when I stripped the riggin' from the buckskin and turned it into the corral. Washing up, I studied about things and found there was something bothered me, but what it was I couldn't pin down.
    Supper was laid and Matty told me to sit down and she'd have it on. From my pocket I took the pins and needles I'd picked up for her and she thanked me. "It isn't much of a town," I explained, "supplies are limited. More fixin's for miners than anything else, but there's some grub. Groceries, I mean. Not much to interest a woman."
    "We've not been over there," Matty said. "We did drive into Animas City once, but it is such a long drive and we didn't like to be away from the place.
    "It's SO; different here than Mrs. Hollyrood expected. When Mr. Phillips spoke of his ranch, she always thought of it like a southern plantation with a big house, white pillars and all that, with a fine carriage and driving horses. She just didn't know what a ranch could be like, and neither did I."
    "Pretty rough by your standards," I suggested. "Folks out here have to make do. This house is better than most. The logs were squared off by somebody who knew how to use an adze and a broadax. The granary and barn were built by the same hand. It shows in the workmanship.
    "It's a fine place," I said, "but to make any money out of it the owner has to know cattle or somebody who does. I can see where she must have been surprised."
    She put a plate before me and I set to. Bein' hungry, I wasted no time. Then I said, "Didn't Phillips tell you what the ranch was like?"
    "I scarcely knew him. Yes, he told us about it, but Mrs. Hollyrood had never seen a western ranch and thought of it in different terms. When we were coming out on the train she said we'd have a good life here, and hoped the servants would be the sort she wanted to keep. I believe she was expecting much more."
    "It's a rough life," I agreed, "but there's some fine folks in the country around. I mean, good substantial people, all of them working to make something of their land or their mines or whatever."
    "I believe she's thinking about selling."
    Well, I swallowed what I had in my mouth and waited a minute whilst she filled my cup. "I haven't asked around," I said, "but I'd not imagine she could get much of a price. This here is good land but mostly for cattle or sheep. There's a man over west of here has done well planting barley and oats, but you have to know what you're doing. To tell you the truth, ma'am, I doubt if you could get more for the place than it would cost you to go back east."
    "I don't believe that." It was Mrs. Hollyrood, wearing