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Updated: May 31, 2025
It's a ten-to-one shot that Miller took the chance to plug Doble and make me pay for it." "Looks likely, but we'll never know. Son, you've had a rotten deal handed you." The younger man's eyes were hard as steel. He clamped his jaw tight, but he made no comment. "Nobody can give you back the years of yore life you've lost," the cattleman went on.
When they reached the notch, Shorty and Doble never once looked to see if we were around. They lit out after you on the jump. Did they come close to getting you?" "It looked like bullets would be flyin'. I won't say who would 'a' got who if they had," he said modestly. "But I wasn't lookin' for no trouble.
But Doble clung to his weapon as a lost cow does to a 'dobe water-hole in the desert. Bob got a grip on his arm and twisted till he screamed with pain. He did a head spin and escaped. One hundred and sixty pounds of steel-muscled cowpuncher landed on his midriff and the six-shooter went clattering away to a far corner of the room. Bob dived for the revolver, Doble for the door.
"But Chiquito never went back on me yet. These fellows may be overplayin' their hand, don't you reckon?" "Not a chanct. That tumblebug Miller is one fishy proposition, and his sidekick Doble say, he's the kind of bird that shoots you in the stomach while he's shakin' hands with you. They're about as warm-hearted as a loan shark when he's turnin' on the screws and about as impulsive.
Steelman, as the leader of his gang, was used to levies upon his purse when his followers had gone broke. He judged that he would have to let Doble have about twenty-five dollars now. "A thousand dollars." Brad shot a quick, sidelong look at him. "Wha's wrong now, Dug?" The ex-foreman of the D Bar Lazy R took his time to answer. He enjoyed the suspense under which his ally was held.
"That's all. Miss Joyce said for me to get this wagonload of grub out soon as I could. So I come right along." "Doble been seen in town lately?" asked Dave. "Not as I know of. Shorty has." "Shorty ain't in this." "Do you reckon ?" Sanders cut the teamster short. "Some of Doble's work. But I don't see why he sent for Keith too." "He didn't. Keith begged to go along an' Miss Joyce took him."
A moment later he pulled the slip-knot of his bridle from the hitching-bar, swung to the saddle and spurred his horse to a gallop. In a cloud of dust he swept round the building to the road and waved a hand derisively toward Doble. "See you later!" he shouted. The foreman wasted no breath in futile rage. He strode to the nearest hitching-post and flung himself astride leather.
The people are shouting and jumping up out of their seats in the grand stand, and if that Bud Doble has a horse in the race he's leaning forward in the sulky, shouting at his horse and making a holy show of himself. "Ha, that Geers! He waits. He doesn't think of the people but of the horse he's driving. When the time comes, just the right time, that Geers, he lets the horse know.
Emerson Crawford hooked an arm under the elbow of Sanders and left the office. "I'm wonderin' about one thing, boy," he said. "Did Miller kill George Doble accidentally or on purpose?" "I'm wondering about that myself. You remember that Denver bartender said they had been quarreling a good deal. They were having a row at the very time when I met them at the gate of the corral.
I'll tell you now that broomtail never had a chance to beat Whiskey Bill." "Yore hoss can run, seh," admitted Dave. "I know it, but you don't. He didn't have to take the kinks out of his legs to beat that plug." "You get our money," said Hart quietly. "Ain't that enough without rubbin' it in?" "Sure I get yore money easy money, at that," boasted Doble.
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