'Where'd you learn that stance, from pictures in the Police Gazette?' Longarm asked as he stepped down from the roan and took off his own gunbelt and hat. He handed them to Molly to hold, then started to turn back toward Seth.
With a yell that was echoed by shouts of encouragement from his friends, Seth charged forward, swinging wildly. Longarm tipped his head back a little and let the first punch whip harmlessly in front of him. Then he leaned to the side as Seth's momentum carried him past. Longarm stuck the toe of his boot between Seth's ankles and sent the young cowboy sprawling to the ground.
Seth landed hard, the breath coming out of him with an oof! Longarm stepped back and watched as Seth rolled over and came up furious and gasping for air. 'You son of a bitch! That wasn't fair!'
'You got a few years on me, as you so kindly pointed out,' said Longarm. 'Figured it was all right for me to even the odds a mite.'
'I'm goin' to kill you!' Once again, the cowboy charged. This time Longarm blocked the first punch and then straightened Seth up with a short, hard right to the face. Seth's head rocked back from the blow. Before he could recover, Longarm stepped closer and hooked a left into his belly. Seth lost his breath again. Worse, he doubled over so that his jaw was in perfect position for the looping right Longarm brought around. He fell like a sack of potatoes dropped from the back of a wagon.
Longarm stepped back, not even breathing hard. 'Just so you know,' he said to the feebly writhing figure on the ground, 'it ain't the years that put age on a man, old son. It's the miles.'
The other young cowhands were looking on in amazement, clearly stunned that Longarm had disposed of Seth so easily. Longarm glanced at them to make sure that none of them were showing any signs of taking up the gauntlet for their fallen friend, then turned back toward Molly. He heard Seth stagger to his feet behind him.
'You... you...' Seth gasped. Longarm didn't stop or look around. 'You bastard!' Seth finally got out. 'I'll... kill you!'
Longarm glanced back and saw Seth lunging toward his horse. The cowboy reached his mount and clawed at the holstered revolver looped over the saddlehorn. As the gun came free and Seth started to turn, Molly drew her carbine and brought it up. 'No, Seth!' she cried. 'I'll drop you in your tracks if you cock that gun!'
'Molly!' Seth practically wailed. 'You... you wouldn't-'
'Damn right I would.' A faint quaver in Molly's voice revealed the strain she was under.
'Good Lord,' Longarm muttered. 'The antics of you youngsters are a vexation, pure and simple. I didn't knock all the brains out of your head, Seth. Use what you've got left and put that gun away before the lady has to shoot you. I imagine it'd plumb ruin her day to have to kill you.'
For a second, Longarm thought one of them was going to be foolish enough to start shooting anyway. Then, with a disgusted curse, Seth shoved his pistol back in its holster. 'Reckon it ain't worth dyin' over,' he said. He pointed a finger at Longarm. 'But one of these days, you and me are goin' to finish this!'
Anything Longarm could have said would just make the situation worse, he decided, so he didn't say anything at all. He picked up his hat and gunbelt, which Molly had dropped to draw the Winchester, and made sure the .44 was all right before he strapped the belt around his waist. For the second time today, he knocked dust off his hat--it was starting to look more gray than brown, he reflected--and put it on. 'I reckon if you're ready, Miss Kinsman, we'll ride on to the ranch and see your father.'
'Won't be necessary,' said one of the other cowboys, speaking up for the first time. 'Here comes Big Matt now!'
CHAPTER 4
Longarm turned and saw another group of riders coming toward them, led by a tall, broad-shouldered man on a deep-chested black stallion. He wore a sheepskin coat that flapped open over a woolen shirt. The outfit was probably a little warm for this time of year, thought Longarm, but it didn't seem to bother the man. His hair under the broad-brimmed hat he wore was a mixture of gray and bright red, so now Longarm knew where Molly got her flaming tresses.
And her temper. As the riders came up, the big redheaded man barked, 'What in the name o' the seven imps o' Satan is goin' on here? You been fightin' again, Seth? Damn it, boy, I warned you that if you didn't stop thinkin' with your fists, I'd boot your butt from here to Kansas, and by God, I've got half a mind to do just that!'
The rider beside him, a middle-aged man with a seamed face and a thick, graying mustache, said quietly, 'Better take it easy, Matt. You know the doc over in Portland said it'd be better for you if you stopped gettin' so riled up all the time.'
'To hell with that sawbones and all the other pill-pushers!' Matt Kinsman exploded. 'Where in blazes were all of them when I was carvin' a ranch out of the wilderness? Answer me that, Joe!'
Joe Traywick just shook his head. He looked over at Seth and said, 'Get your hat and gun on, boy, and get mounted up. I want all of you up in that northwest pasture, pronto.'
Muttering a little--but casting leery glances toward Kinsman as he did so--Seth did as he was instructed. A moment later, he and his friends were galloping off.
Besides Kinsman and Traywick, there were two more riders with them. Like Traywick, they were older hands who were probably some of Kinsman's longtime, trusted riders. Kinsman watched Seth and the younger men leave, then turned his attention to Longarm and asked, 'Who the hell're you?'
Despite the brusque attitude, Longarm sensed that Kinsman wasn't really as unfriendly as he sounded. The rancher had undoubtedly endured a great many hardships while he was establishing the Diamond K, and it was in his nature now to be curt. That was different from Seth's behavior. The young cowboy had been trying to be a horse's ass.
Longarm nodded respectfully and said to the rancher, 'Howdy, Mr. Kinsman. My name's Custis, and I'm looking for work.'
'Sort of long in the tooth to be a cowboy, aren't you?'
'I've been to see the elephant a time or two,' admitted Longarm. 'That don't mean I can't dab a loop on a proddy steer or chase mavericks out of the brush.'
'Mavericks, eh? Texan?'
