By Louis L'Amour
He used to be an orphan from the hills of Tennessee and he hadn’t eaten in 3 days. With front of his belly making acquaintances with the again, he used to be in no place to enable a chance slip through disregarded. And while Chancy defended his new herd of livestock with a shotgun, he didn’t omit. The lifeless guy left a pistol at the floor. Chancy wanted a spare and, after stowing it in his bedroll, forgot approximately it. He had a livestock force to complete and a revenue to make.
But the gun had a background. one other killing had taken position and Chancy might by no means understand the reality until eventually it was once too past due. Now, locked in a prison telephone with an indignant, drunken mob outdoor and time operating out, he needs to by some means have the opportunity to end up his innocence.
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Additional info for Chancy
I didn’t know what was between him and that redhead, and it was none of my affair. I just wanted my hat. Now, there’s more than one way of doing things, and when a body can’t come about it one way, he can do it another. Of course, the way I was thinking of might lead to shooting. All I could do was play my hand and keep my chips in the pot. We stood there, seeming to pay them no mind, and soon they crossed the street to an eating place. We watched them go in, hang up their hats, and sit down, and then I led the way across the street.
You keep the peace here, and I’m a man who respects the law. If the man who did it wants trouble he can have it, outside of town. I wanted you to know I wasn’t hunting trouble. ” So I explained about that, and about the bill of sale. “All right,” he said finally. ” After he had walked on up the street, I looked at Jim. “You didn’t tell me you knew him,” I said. “Didn’t figure it mattered. We were scouts for the army at the same time, a few years back. ” And just then I saw them. Three men came out of a saloon together: a short, thickset man with his vest torn in the back; a slender, wiry man with a still, cold face, reddish hair, and a few freckles; and a third one—tall, and good-looking in a rakish, hell-for-leather sort of way.
We got close, for the Kiowas weren’t expecting trouble—and they had their jaws full of meat. We cut loose with our six-shooters and stampeded horses and cattle right out of there. One Kiowa had a dead aim on me when Jim cut him down. We saw his rifle fly high, and then he hit the ground and rolled over. Three miles north of there we rolled the stock into a tight bunch and looked them over. Eight of the cattle were mine. We also had four Indian ponies, having lost the others somewhere out on the grass.