The Taming of Red Butte Western by Francis Lynde
page 30 of 328 (09%)
page 30 of 328 (09%)
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"I am not going to come to blows with you. Rankin--not if I can help it," he said, with his hand on the door-knob. "But what I have said will have to go as it lies. Shoot Flemister out of hand, if you feel like it, but quit hampering his business." Hallock stood up, and when he was on his feet his big frame made him look still more a fair match physically for the handsome master-mechanic. "Why?" The single word shot out of the loose-lipped mouth like an explosive bullet. Gridley opened the door and turned upon the threshold. "I might borrow the word from you and say that Flemister's business and mine are none of yours. But I won't do that. I'll merely say that Flemister may need a little Red Butte Western nursing in the Ute Valley irrigation scheme he is promoting, and I want you to see that he gets it. You may take that as a word to the wise, or as a kicked-in hint to a blind mule; whichever you please. You can't afford to fight me, Hallock, and you know it. Sleep on it a few hours, and you'll see it in that way, I'm sure. Good-night." III A LITTLE BROTHER OF THE COWS |
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