Hungry Horse news and Columbian. [volume] (Columbia Falls, Mont.) 1946-1948, 1948-02-20
CHAPTER xxi

r 1t was special train consistin
!. Of two day coaches and three DO
cars.
They were a rough-looking lo1
. these Texans. Some were bearded
0 and good many of the others wor
long, dropping mustaches. Seasoned
man-hunters, they were cool, tougl
specimens who had ridden hare
and far into the brush after the mel
on the dodge wanted by the law
At Jim Creek the engineer ran the
train onto siding. Sunday Brown
passed through the cars, waking uI
his men and shouting "All out
All out" Sleepily the Texans came
to life. They gathered up their bag.
gage and their weapons, then filed
down the aisle and dropped from
the steps Of the coach. Eight or ten
men in chaps awaited them there.
They were cattlemen and foremen
OF various outfits. Others would join
them as the invaders moved deeper
into the territory they meant to
comb.
Sunday Brown was a big broad
shouldered man moving on toward
fifty. He stood six foot in his shoes
and weighed two hundred pounds Of
solid bone, gristle, and muscle. His
weather-beaten face was hard and
yet wary.
Clint Ellison and John McFaddin
led the cavalcade. They were famil-
lar with the terrain, which was part
Of the country covered by their
spring and fall roundups. The party
followed a winding, narrow road
through the sage to a ford on the
North Fork. A coyote crept its
furtive way through the brush. On
the side Of hill the riders caught
glimpse Of startled cattle branded
with the Reverse B brand.
Reminded of Calhoun Terry by the
brand, Clint Ellison made bitter
comment to his companion. Were
risking our lives for that turncoat as
much as for our own stuff. He sits
tight and says he won't have any
part in this, but his outfit shares the
profits with u.s."
Ellison's gray face was set OBJ
stinately. 1.-The trouble with him is
that he has too many friends among
the rustlers. He used to be one of
that crowd"
mo, SIR" denied McFaddin
promptly. ''He came of good, clean
stock. His father, Barton Terry, was
a fine citizen. Cal is all right, for
that matter. Plenty of the small
cattlemen are square shooters,
Clint. They don't like rustlers any
more than we do. I'm disappointed
in Cal. But that's the way he is
made" He added after a moment:
''By the way, who is the bird who
bumped of Buck Hart and his
friends?"
The No, By Joe manager took his
time to answer. "You paid your
share, John, and I reckon you have
a right to know" he said at last.
1.-The fellows name is Jack Turley.
Do you know him?"
1--WE met him. That's ALL I don't
want to know him any better"
'I'm expecting him to meet us
somewhere in Box Canyon before
we get to Johnson's Prong. Turley
has been thick with the rustlers for
some time. He knows where they
roost and he is to guide us to them"
They passed the spot where Tet-
low has been ambushed and rode up
the draw leading to Box Canyon.
1--WE separate here" he said. 1.-The
wagons can't 60 up the canyon, of
course. They'll follow the road past
Renaud's homestead. If anybody
makes inquiries, you are hauling
supplies to the Becker coal mines.
Don't get excited. The tarps cover
the wagons and nobody will suspect
unusual. Well meet to-
night at Packers Fork. The rest
of us have some cleanup jobs to
do today. We're going up the gulch,
and when we reach the prong are
cutting across the hills. If anybody
sees us they have to be stopped, no
matter whether they are honest set
tiers or thieves. In case they try to
run, shoot down their horses. Be
careful not to hit them. We could
easily make a serious mistake by
getting the wrong men. We are
hunting certain individuals known to
us. 1t has to be made evident by
us that decent citizens have nothing
to fear. Is that clear?"
There was murmur Of assent.
He led the way through the aspen
grove and up the steep. crooked
trail beyond. 1t brought them to
a long spur, at the upper end of the
gorge, which ran out from John
sons Prong.
Here Gaines, Collins, and several
other stockmen joined the party.
The leaders consulted together. /
They decided it would be better to |
wait for Turley.