His father had been flint and steel, but his hardness had been tempered by mercy and his abiding belief in the law of fair play. He was capable of gunning down a man, as he had proved more than once. But on every occasion his victim had deserved killing, and had gone down only after he had been given the opportunity to draw first.
Kirby knew that his father had been governed in all his actions by what Ma Street would say. It was Ma Street who stood behind him in his battle to create an empire of the wilderness. She never would have condoned for an instant some of the things Bill did as a matter of course.
His was a different, brutal kind of hardness. When he took his share of Wagon, the money that was his share, he had changed overnight. He became a man obsessed, a man drunk with power, a tyrant who would brook no interference in his plans for Lazy B.
Kirby heard with a feeling of sickness the fate of the squatters.
A determined farmer, first of many who were to follow in the years to come, had squatted on Lazy B grass. He had settled with his wife, their kids, a cow, some chickens, and the desire to wrest a living from the soil. That he would ever have caused any real trouble to Lazy B is doubtful. Nonetheless, Bill had ordered him off the range. When the squatter ignored repeated warnings, Bill rode one day to the sod shanty, called the man to the yard, and in the presence of his wife and children, shot him between the eyes.
Whether or not the farmer was even armed was a question. No one remarked on it openly, for fear of drawing Bill's wrath. He reported that the man had gone for his gun. The man's wife pointed out that her husband didn't even own a pistol.
Kirby had given her the money to take her children and return to her father's home in Iowa.
That was only one of a number of incidents that were causing a growing uneasiness among the townspeople and the ranchers. Fair play was the basis of the unspoken code by which these people lived. Had Bill been fair with the squatter? Had he been fair in his dealings with the merchants of Streeter, the town named for his father? Had he not, in the course of a year, brought ruin upon two small ranchers who opposed him? Opinion was divided, just as the whole country could become divided.
And with the growing uneasiness, there also grew the conviction that one of two men would be ruler of the range: Kirby, who in every way was so like his father; or Bill, so different. He represented the unknown quality. No one knew what the new Bill Street might do if he won or lost the coming battle.
Everyone knew, too, that if there were no other reason, Kirby and Bill would some day tangle over Jennifer Bryant, the girl who had made her home at Wagon Spoke not so long ago.
Jennifer had been one of the few survivors of a wagon train massacre. Ma Street had taken Jennifer to raise as one of her own after the tragedy. Cochise and his Apaches, loosed on the countryside by the infamous broken treaty, had chanced upon the train. They had made short work of the men and women, who had never had a chance to defend themselves. Jennifer had been hidden in the brush, and the Apaches had been in too big a hurry to search out her hiding place. Muddy had brought the waif home to Wagon.
Jennifer had grown up as a member of the family, the horror of what she had seen gradually diminishing with the years. Like another boy, she played with Kirby and Bill, fought with them, laughed with them, and often worked at their side.
It was Kirby who first discovered that Jen was no longer a child but a beautiful young woman. He discovered, too, that she suddenly filled his thoughts, his youthful dreams, far more than a foster sister should. He never told her, but she, too, felt the change in their boy-girl relationship.
Bill's discovery of Jen's femininity was typical and the cause of a severe beating from his bother. Accustomed to taking what he wanted without asking, he grabbed Jen one evening and tried to kiss her. In the battle that followed, Bill had been so thoroughly whipped by Kirby that Muddy had had to send for the doctor.
'He got what he deserved,' said Muddy. Ma agreed. Not long after that she wisely arranged for Jen's departure from Wagon, giving her education as a schoolteacher as the excuse.
That had been a long time ago. Jen was now teaching in Streeter. Apparently she had forgiven Bill. She seemed to have no favorite but was seen with whichever one happened to have business in Streeter. Unless she chose an outsider, all knew that sooner or later she would have to choose between Kirby and Bill.
And now matters had reached at least a minor climax. For the word had gotten around. Bill Street had sent a message to his brother asking for a meeting and naming the Gold Nugget as the rendezvous spot.
Kirby tasted the beer Joe set before him, put down his glass, and withstood his brother's expressionless stare. He's waiting for me to make the first move, he thought. Anger coursed through him with violent force, but his voice was cool and even as he said quietly, 'You sent word you wanted to see me. What's on your mind?' He waited.
Bill's voice was hearty. Kirby alone of all who heard it knew how false it was.
'Maybe we'd better sit down.' He nodded to a vacant table. Kirby shook his head.
'Prefer to stand. I didn't come for a social visit. I said, What's on your mind?'
Bill's face darkened under the black stubble of beard. Kirby thought, He doesn't give a continental how he looks any more. He watched his brothers' growing anger with wry amusement. Bill's reply showed his effort at control.
'I'm careful, too, about the people I'm seen with,' he said. 'What I came for is a matter of business.'
Kirby sipped his beer. 'Such as?'
'All right,' Bill snapped. 'I'll give it to you in one dose. I want to buy Wagon Spoke. I'm asking you to name your price!'
Kirby's look of amazement did not begin to mirror his feelings. 'You want to buy Wagon Spoke?' He threw back his head and sent a shout of laughter bouncing in the rafters. 'You ought to know better than that. If I was starving I'd never part with one inch of it. And if I did sell, which I won't, where would you raise the money to buy me out?'
Kirby's scornful laughter had put an edge to Bill's temper. 'That's none of your business. I'll get it, in cash. We can draw up the papers tomorrow. Just name your price.'
Kirby looked at him for a long time. 'I believe you're serious. So let's get this straight once and for all. Wagon Spoke is not for sale, to you or anyone else at any time. Not one cow or pony or foot of graze. Muddy Street put his life into the ranch. He and Ma are buried there. I doubt if you care about your father and mother, but I do. And you'll never set foot on it again. To me it would be desecration. Do we understand each other?'
Bill's growing anger was nearly beyond control. 'No, I don't believe we've come to an understanding yet,' was his harsh reply. 'You've said your piece; now hear mine. Then we'll understand each other.'
'I'm not going to tell you again! This range isn't big enough for both of us! One of us has to go, and it won't be me. Either you sell Wagon and move out, or, by heaven, I'll put you out. It may take time to do it, but sooner or later I'm going to own Wagon. The range is going to be under one brand… mine! From now on anything that happens if you get in my way is on your own head. Blood ain't thicker than water as far as I'm concerned. I'd just as soon see the color of yours as that of any other man who gets in my way. I'll give you till noon tomorrow to make up your mind.'
Kirby's face was coldly impassive. 'Blood never meant anything to you… not even Ma's. You've had hers and Dad's on your hands for a year now, but it hasn't seemed to bother you any.' He moved a step nearer.
'I've been whipping you since we were boys. I've a mind to do it again. Get out of town, Bill. And stay on your side of the Clear.'
Bill's laugh was almost a screech. 'Maybe you are handier with your fists than I am, but we're even-steven with our irons. If you ever come at me again, you'd better fill your fist, because I'll shoot you like a coyote.'
Kirby studied him, red sparks flaming in his eyes. 'I'll take that for Ma and Muddy's sake. I'll take it once. I won't take it again.' He gave a snort of scorn. 'You're yellow, Bill. You won't chance a shoot-out with me. I'm not an unarmed farmer. You know I might shoot first!' He turned his back and walked over to pick up his brush jacket from the chair. Bill's words stopped him, and he stood a moment with his back turned before he swung around.
'You warned me, Kirby. Now I'm warning you. I'm not only going to get Wagon; I'm going to get Jen. She's wearing my brand, and if I ever hear of you speaking to her again, I'm coming after you!'
Kirby controlled the anger that was beginning to race through his body like fire. 'Wonder what Jen would say to that? Seems I remember one time I had to teach you to keep your hands off her. I'll quit seeing her when she tells me not to show up again, not before. In the meantime, if you'll shuck that gun, I'll teach you not to bring her
