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Updated: May 11, 2025
He did not intend that Allen should know this or that he had been going quietly from one Dry Bottom merchant to another, appealing to them for their support. And the earnestness with which many of them had promised had convinced him that the primary was to be the beginning of the end for Bill Watkins and Dunlavey.
Hollis says it's time for him to go." He did not move the weapon in his hand, but a certain glint in his eyes told Dunlavey that the pistol was not in his hand for mere show. The latter smiled knowingly. "I'm not interfering with the law," he said mockingly. "And I certainly ain't bucking your game, Norton."
I'm just yearning to take a big hand in this game!" "Interesting, isn't it?" smiled Hollis. "Some," returned Allen. He grasped Hollis's hand and wrung it heartily. "You're a winner and I'm mighty glad to be able to work with you." He spoke seriously. "Do you think there's a chance for us to beat Dunlavey?" Hollis laughed.
He heard Dunlavey snarl an oath, saw his big form loom out of the crowd, saw one of his gigantic hands reach for the hat on the table. "I reckon I'll take charge of this now!" he sneered, his brutal face close to Hollis's.
I'll take one hundred thousand dollars for the Circle Bar." The calm announcement had no effect upon Dunlavey except to cause him to grin derisively. "For a tenderfoot you're pretty slick," he allowed, his teeth showing. "You've figgered it out so that it sounds right reasonable. But you've forgot one thing. The Cattlemen's Association ain't eliminated.
Hollis had been compelled to record in the Kicker the unpleasant news that Dunlavey had refused to comply with the new law regulating brands and the submitting of lists for taxation, and also that he had threatened to shoot the first officer trespassed on his land.
"You are frank about it at any rate," conceded Hollis smiling slightly. "But that doesn't get us anywhere. What I am trying to get at is this: what would the Circle Bar bring in cash if the Cattlemen's Association ceased to be a factor in the county?" Dunlavey grinned broadly. "For a tenderfoot you're real amusing," he derided.
Then he went down to the court house. He found the door of Judge Graney's court room slightly ajar and without knocking he pushed it open and entered. On the threshold he halted and drew a deep breath. Judge Graney was seated at the big table, and directly opposite him, leaning heavily on his elbows, his face inflamed with anger, sat Dunlavey.
"I reckon we know you," said Train; "you're Jim Hollis's boy." "Then you know that Dunlavey and my father were not exactly bosom friends," returned Hollis. Several heads bobbed affirmatively; others sat grimly silent. Hollis smiled. "How many of you offered to help my father when he came to you asking for assistance in his fight against Dunlavey?" Train fidgeted.
He had been watching Hollis, his eyes narrowed with a cynically humorous expression. Hollis knew that by this time Dunlavey must have discovered his identity. He swung slowly around in his chair, his face wearing an expression of whimsical amusement as he greeted his victim of a few days previous. "Welcome to the Kicker office," he said quietly. Dunlavey did not move.
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