The Skyland post. [volume] (West Jefferson, N.C.) 193?-1988, 1937-05-13

GUNLOCK
RANCH
By
FRANK H.
SPEARMAN
Copyright Frank H. spearman
WNU Service
Copyright Frank H. Spearman
WNU Service
Denison was galloping away.


the sharp echo on his ears of flying
hoofs convinced him he was not
dreaming, for he never would have
believed sober Bill Denison would
take so slender chance of getting
across the creek alive The clatter of
hoofs grew fainter. At times they
ceased, and the old frontiersman' S
breath choked him. Then, as if in
answer to his straining ears, came
the hollow sound of hoofbeats on
wood. Denison had reached the
bridge.
An instant later there came into
Pardaloe's sight, in the distant
moonlight, the ghostlike figure of a
. horse flying across the rotten
bridge Pardaloe OWNED at once
that the pony had thrown his rider.
Then, of a sudden, the riderless
beast whirled with spring and, as
if somehow guided, shot ahead again
he was third of the way over.
Pardaloe's jaws came together
squarely and comfortably, for he
now understood. Denison was on
that horse, clinging to its back like
a panther.
But there was still the east-end
plank gap to cross. Scott had said
the big one was ten feet, but he had
not seen it for yearIt might easily
be twelve or fifteen feet; suppose it
wee twenty?
With Denison more than halfway
across, the clatter of boots grew
fainter. One, two, three rifle shots
rang out in fairly quick succession.
To this day the gap that Denison
jumped has never been measured.
The reckless rider had been spot
ted when he was less than halfway
across. McCrossen, riding behind the
cattle, had galloped forward when
Rebstock ahead was intercepted and
questioned by Scott. The half-breed's
gun signals had been taken by Reb-
stock as an attack, and he had fired
back. Before either side really knew
what it was all about, they were
exchanging shots. But the instant
McCrosesn saw the horse dashing
along the rotten bridge, his sixth
sense of danger guessed the rider for
an enemy, and without a moments
hesitation he trained a rifle on him
and fired.
By a chance that rarely favors
desperate measures, Denison sprawl
ed from the final leap across the
bridge gap into fringe of sand and
willows that evergreen the eastern
bridge approach.
Threading the underground on his
trembling horse, Denison got away
from the bridge as fast as he could;
somebody was still throwing rifle
slugs toward it; but once away from
the danger point, he lost no time in
making himself heard.
Denison, from the willows, called
loudly, who's driving these cattle?'
'The man that owns en-" shout
ed McCrossen, riding out into the
open, fifty yards away. who the
hell are you, hidin' in that brush? If
you're man, show yourself"
Denison pushed into the open.
you're driving this bunch, McCros-
SEM"
81 am. What do you want, Deni-
SOM" he demanded angrily.
81 want these steers, McCrossen.
And l want you"
''These steers belong to me for
wages, an I've got twice as many
back there yet. Now I've got just
one word for you, Denison: Get out
of my way an keep out of my way y
eff you've got any rights in these
cattle, turn 'em back to the Mead
ows and lay your claim for wages
before the Stockmen's Claims
Board" retorted Denison.
'What the hell's all this to you?
Do you claim 'em?" demanded Nc
Crossen savagely.
81 don't claim a hoof, but want
to talk with you, McCrossen, before
you jump to the Panhandle"
What about?"
about who fired my ranch house
and about Henry Sawdy.'
'Tryin' to pick quarrel with me
Ell, Denison? Well, you needn't try
very hard. don't like you, Denison
never did. never had any use fol
you. Now will you pull off these
buns that are millin' my steers?"
'Will you head 'em back for the
Meadows and talk to me?"
'sNo!"
''No!"
The two refusals were fast. But
while the second was being uttered
Rebstock cried, Crowd him, Dave!'
and fired at Denison.
The next instant three horsemer
were punging at one another or
rearing horses and throwing thei1
shots at one another in very un
Il