Free Killoe (1962) by Louis L'amour Page A

from the hands of the startled man.
    There was a gasp of alarm, and then a cool voice said, "Turn him loose, boy. If he wants to come hunting me, give him his chance."
    "Give me the rifle, Dan." It was Tom Sandy. Only he was not the easygoing man I had known back on the Cowhouse. This was a cold, dangerous man.
    "Give me the rifle," Sandy persisted. "I shall show him what comes to wife-stealers and thieves."
    "Let him have it," Tap said coolly.
    Instead I laid my rifle on Tap. "You turn around, Tap, and you walk back to the herd.
    If you make a move toward that gun, I'll kill you."
    "Are you crossing me?" He was incredulous, but there was anger in him, too.
    "We will have no killing on this outfit. We've trouble enough without fighting among ourselves." I saw Tom Sandy ease a hand toward his shirt front where I knew he carried a pistol. "Don't try it, Tom. That goes for you, too."
    There was silence, and in the silence I saw Rose Sandy standing against a tree trunk, staring at the scene in fascinated horror.
    Others were coming. "Turn around, Tom, and walk back to camp. We're going to settle this, here and now. You, too, Rose."
    She looked up at me. "Me?" Her voice trembled. "What--?" "Go along with him."
    Tap Henry stood watching me as they walked away. "You'll interfere once too often, boy. I'll forget we grew up together."
    "Don't ever do it, Tap. I like you, and you're my brother. But if you ever draw a gun on me, I'll kill you."
    The late moon lit the clearing with a pale, mysterious light. He stood facing me, his eyes pinpoints of light in the shadow of his hat brim.
    "Look, you damned fool, do you know who you're talking to? Have you lost your wits?"
    "No, Tap, and what I said goes as it lays. Don't trust your gun against me, Tap, because I'm better than you are. I don't want to prove it ... I don't set store over being call ed a gunfighter like you do. It' s a name I don't want, but I've seen you shoot, Tap, and I can outshoot you a n y day in the week."

Killoe (1962)

    He turned abruptly and walked back to camp. Pa was up, and so were the others--Tim Foley and his wife, Karen, her face pinched and tight, and all of us gathering around.
    "Free," I said to Squires, "ride out and take my place, will you? We've got a matter to settle."
    Pa was standing across the fire in his shirtsleeves, and Pa was a man who set store by proper dress. Never a day but what he wore a stiff collar and a necktie.
    Tap walked in, a grin on his hard face, and when he looked across at Tom Sandy his eyes were taunting. Tom refused to meet his gaze.
    Rose came up to the fire, holding her head up and trying to put an impudent look on her face and not quite managing it.
    Pa wasted no time. He asked questions and he got answers. Tap Henry had been meeting Rose out on the edge of camp. Several times Tom Sandy had managed to see them interrupted, hoping Rose would give up or that Tap would.
    Karen stood there listening, her eyes on the ground. I knew it must hurt to hear all this, but I could have told her about Tap. As men go he was a good man among men, but he was a man who drew no lines when it came to women. He liked them anywhere and he took them where he found them and left them right there. There would have been no use in my telling Karen more than I had . . . she would believe what she wanted to believe.
    Worst of all, I'd admired Tap. We'd been boys together and he had taught me a good deal, but we were a team on this cow outfit, and we had to pull together if we were going to make it through what lay ahead. And every man jack on the drive knew that Tap Henry was our insurance. Tap had been over the trail, and none of us had. Tap knew the country we were heading toward, and nobody else among us did.
    Tap was a leader, and he was a top hand, and right now he was figuring this was a big joke. The trouble was, Tap didn't really know Pa.
    Tom Sandy had heard Rose get out of the wagon, and he knew that Tap was gone from his bed, so he followed