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Updated: June 19, 2025
The silence that followed the words of the boy was broken by Quantrell's old grayback. Dave Roush was a bad man a killer. He had three notches on his gun. Perhaps he had killed others before coming West. At any rate, he was no fair match for this undersized boy. "He's a kid, Dave. You don't want to gun a kid. You, Clanton whatever you call yourself light a shuck pronto git out!"
And sometimes on an evening you will see automobiles going down the block with family parties on their way for a spin along the Benson road where the Clanton boys, Frank Stilwell, John Bingo, and the other bad men used to rob the stages in daytime.
He chose to reassure her after the fashion of a lover, in that wordless language which is as old as Eden. His heart was full of her as he swung down the street buoyantly. He had known her saucy, scornful, and imperious. He had known her gay and gallant, had been the victim of her temper. Occasionally he had seen glimpses of tenderness toward Pauline and of motherliness toward Jim Clanton.
I'd like to show this drunken outfit they can't take a prisoner from me." Clanton gave a little whoop of delight. "Go to it, son. You're law west of the Pecos. Let's see you make it stick." Live-Oaks was as yet the terminus of the railroad. The train backed into the station just as the first of the mob arrived. "Nothin' doin', Prince," announced Yankie, swaggering forward.
He was not sure that he would know Clanton when he saw him. He had set eyes on the young fellow once, on that occasion when he had gone with Warren to demand an inspection of the Flying V Y herd. But he had seen him only as one of a group of cowpunchers and not as an individual enemy, whereas it was quite certain that Go-Get-'Em Jim would recognize him.
The Earps in turn stated that the Clanton boys were the bandits. And that began the Earp-Clanton feud. It did not last long, but there was much happening while it was going on. The Clanton brothers, Ike and Billy, betook themselves to their ranch and gathered their friends around them. Frank and Tom McLowrey were prominent among these allies.
Even Roush, who in the past three years had never given young Clanton an opportunity to meet him face to face, stole furtively into the tendejons of the Mexican quarter and spent money freely in treating. Among the natives Go-Get-'Em Jim was in ill-repute for shooting a bad man named Juan Ortez who had attempted to terrorize the town while on a spree.
Hugh had disappeared, but above the smoke the youngster still saw the cruel face of Devil Dave leering triumphantly at him behind the pumping gun. The boy kept moving, so that his body did not offer a static target. He concentrated his attention on Dave, throwing shot after shot at him. That he would kill his enemy Clanton never had a doubt.
Mysterious Pete knew that if this were true, his race was run. "Goddlemighty, Miss Snaith! I swear I thought it was Clanton. He was drawing a gun on me." Lee drew the boy to her bosom so that her body was between the killer and his victim. A swift, up-blazing, maternal fury seemed to leap from her face. "Don't come any nearer! Don't you dare!" she cried. The man's covert glance swept round.
"No, I can't talk business with you, Billie," the young fellow said decisively. "Why can't you?" demanded Lee. Jim Clanton smiled. "You're certainly a right persistent young lady, but by advice of counsel I decline to answer." The Rustlers' Camp
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