Ralph Compton - Bullet for a Bad Man

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Sibling rivalry turns deadly in this Ralph Compton western...Boone and Eppley Scott are the sons of a prosperous Arizona rancher. Despite Boone’s talent for handling a six-shooter, he is content to raise cattle for the rest of his days. Eppley is another story. Dangerously dissatisfied, he secretly plots to take over the family ranch.   When Epp hires an assassin to kill his brother, Boone’s lightning-quick hands leave six dead men behind. Unaware of his brother’s treachery, Boone goes on the run and gets caught up with the infamous outlaw Old Man Radler and his gang of horse thieves.   As Epp continues to send killers after him, Boone faces threats from all sides. If the young gunslinger can escape from Radler’s horse rustlers and survive attacks by wild Apache, he just might end up in a final showdown… with his own flesh and blood.  More Than Six Million Ralph Compton Books In Print!

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‘‘I don’t?’’

‘‘No. There are men who will pat her on the backside and undress her with their eyes. Or try to get her to drink even if she doesn’t want to. Or offer to take her into the private rooms at the back. Do you want that?’’

‘‘The saloon has private rooms?’’

Boone sighed. ‘‘For a pard you make a fine lump of clay. Please, Drub. I need you to back me. Tell her a saloon is no fit place for a lady.’’

‘‘Should I tell the ladies who are already in there first? They look awful happy and I don’t want them mad at me.’’

Just then two men in puncher garb separated from the flow of passersby. ‘‘Boone, is that you?’’ the taller of the two exclaimed. ‘‘Or are my eyes playing tricks on me?’’

‘‘If they are, my eyes are playing tricks too,’’ said the second puncher.

Boone turned and a smile lit his features. ‘‘Jeffers! Pete! What are you doing in Ranson?’’ As they warmly shook, Boone said to Sassy and Drub, ‘‘These gents are friends of mine. They ride for the Circle V. I have known Pete, here, pretty near half my life, and he is as good a leather pounder as you will find anywhere.’’

‘‘I can’t believe this,’’ Pete said. ‘‘We heard you had drifted down Mexico way.’’

‘‘I did but I am back.’’ Boone clapped the rangy puncher on the shoulder. ‘‘I can’t tell you how glad I am to run into you. I have missed the Circle V something awful.’’

‘‘We don’t work there anymore. Your brother up and fired me.’’

‘‘What? Why?’’

‘‘For speaking my piece.’’

Jeffers nodded. ‘‘And when Pete was told to pack his war bag, I quit too. He is my pard and I will stick by him.’’

‘‘Lightning is my pard,’’ Drub said.

‘‘Who?’’

Boone shook his head in bewilderment. ‘‘Why did my pa let my brother cut you loose? Tell me about him and Ma. What have they been up to? I want all the news.’’

The two cowboys looked at each other. Pete cleared his throat and had to try twice to speak. ‘‘Then you haven’t heard?’’

‘‘Heard what? Don’t stand there looking as if you were just kicked by a wassup. Talk to me.’’

‘‘God, Boone,’’ Pete said. ‘‘I don’t rightly know how to tell you this except to come right out with it.’’

‘‘Maybe we should sit down somewhere,’’ Jeffers suggested. ‘‘It will be hard enough on him as it is.’’

‘‘I don’t like the fork this trail has taken. Quit stalling, Pete. Say it now and say it plain.’’

Pain filled Pete’s eyes. ‘‘Here goes, then. Your pa is dead. He was thrown from his horse and his head was crushed.’’

Boone blanched.

‘‘Your ma is dead too. She couldn’t stand losing your pa and her heart gave out. Or that was what Doc Baker said.’’

‘‘Ma? Dead?’’

‘‘Doc Baker died too,’’ Jeffers said. ‘‘I am not sure of the particulars, but they found him in his office and stiff as a board.’’

‘‘Your brother is running the Circle V,’’ Pete related. ‘‘I was glad at first. He never impressed me much, but he is one of the family, and he had Dan Morgan to make sure things ran as they should. Then Dan was butchered by Apaches and—’’ Pete stopped. ‘‘Are you all right?’’

Boone was quaking like an aspen leaf in a chinook. Clenching his fists, he pressed them to his sides as if he were in pain. ‘‘God in heaven,’’ he breathed.

‘‘As I was saying, Apaches got Dan. No sooner did we bury him than your brother hired a new foreman by the name of Blin Hanks and Hanks hired on a bunch of hands who don’t know the hind end of a cow from the hind end of a horse. When I mentioned that some of us were unhappy with how the ranch was being run, your brother sent me packing.’’

‘‘Ma and Pa and Dan Morgan too?’’ Eyes wide, Boone swayed as if he were drunk, then leaned against the wall for support. ‘‘What have I done?’’

‘‘You?’’ Sassy said. ‘‘You haven’t been home in months. How can you blame yourself?’’

‘‘I should have caught on sooner. If I had, Ma and Pa would still be alive.’’

Pete did not hide his confusion. ‘‘I don’t savvy. Even if you had been there the day your pa died, he would still have gone out to tally the cattle. He wanted to be sure none were being rustled.’’

‘‘The Circle V is missing cows?’’

‘‘Your pa thought so, but he never got to prove it one way or the other. But most of the hands think that a few here and there have been driven off.’’

‘‘And my ma? You say her heart gave out?’’

‘‘She died in her sleep. Went real peaceful, your brother said. I never would have thought it, as healthy as she was.’’

A wild look came into Boone’s eyes, but it faded and a new look came over him. His face hardened, his jaw muscles tightened. ‘‘Where is my brother now?’’

‘‘We haven’t seen him since he fired me. We’ve heard rumors, though.’’

‘‘What kind of rumors?’’

It was Jeffers who answered. ‘‘Some of the Circle V hands heard the new hands talking when they thought no one was around. Just snatches here and there. Enough to give them the notion that your brother is a big man here in Ranson.’’

‘‘We came to find out for ourselves,’’ Pete said. ‘‘We’ve been asking around, and while most won’t talk to us, one jasper claimed your brother runs the whole blamed town.’’

Boone slowly straightened. He pulled his hat brim down and squared his shoulders, and when he was done, he was not the man he had been moments ago. ‘‘Drub?’’

‘‘Yes, pard?’’

‘‘Take Sassy back to camp. If she won’t go, pick her up and carry her. Do I have your word?’’

‘‘You have it, pard.’’

Sassy took a step back. ‘‘Don’t you dare lay a hand on me, Drub Radler. I will not be treated like a sack of flour, thank you very much.’’

Grabbing her wrist, Boone pulled her away from the saloon.

Sassy stamped a foot and poked him in the ribs, but he held on. ‘‘I am getting mad. We made a promise to each other, remember? To always be there when the other one has need of us. And you need me now more than you ever will.’’ Sassy clutched at his shirt. ‘‘Dear God. Both your folks, and those others. If you want to cry we can go off alone and I will lend you my shoulder.’’

‘‘Cry?’’ Boone uttered a sound that was the growl of a wolf and the snarl of a mountain lion rolled into one.

‘‘I would if it was me.’’

‘‘I can’t afford tears.’’ Boone gazed up and down the street. ‘‘They say my brother runs this town. I wonder how he will feel when there is nothing left to run.’’

‘‘That is hate talking. You are one man. You can only do so much.’’

Boone patted his ivory-handled Colt. ‘‘I have a friend. Now promise me you will go with Drub and not give him trouble. I can’t do what I have to do if you are here. I would be too worried.’’

Sassy flung herself against him. ‘‘You are scaring me. You don’t want to worry? What about me, out at our camp? What do you reckon I will be doing? It won’t be boiling tea.’’

‘‘Aren’t you always saying we must be open and true with each other?’’

‘‘So?’’

Boone took her hands in his. He kissed her right hand and then he kissed her left. ‘‘This won’t be easy. I am not used to airing my feelings. But I will try, for you.’’ He paused. ‘‘You heard my friends. While I have been off feeling sorry for myself, my brother has been busy.’’

‘‘So what if he stole some Circle V cattle? And so what if he is a big man here in Ranson?’’

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