Chancy (1968) by Louis L'amour Page A

Ton Restaurant, a low-roofed building with a sign hung out over the street. Inside were long, family-style tables with benches along each side.
    We found places, Handy and Cotton at one table, me across the room at another. We helped ourselves and set to eating. The dishes were enameled in blue, the cups the same. It was surely better than eating whilst squatting by a fire somewhere on the trail.
    Of a sudden the door opened and Caxton Kelsey came in, LaSalle Prince with him. They crossed to a table and sat down, facing Cotton and Corbin. They hadn't seen me, for I was behind them.
    Kelsey hadn't seen either Cotton Madden or Corbin riding with me, and they did not seem to notice them now. But I felt sure they knew they were there. They could have seen the brands on our saddle horses, right outside. And I noticed the careful way they were studying the rest of the crowd in the Bon Ton.
    Usually I am a slow eater. Today I worked my way through a stack of grub in pretty fast style, knowing there might be little time before something happened. I refilled my cup from the coffeepot, and waited.
    "Noticed some saddle stock outside wearing a Lazy TC," Kelsey commented. "Who's riding for that brand?"
    Before Corbin or Madden could speak, I said, "That's my brand, Kelsey. Mine and Tarlton's. Have you got some business with us?"
    He turned around very slowly and looked at me. "You haven't got Hickok here to protect you today, Chancy," he said.
    "Now, that's odd. I had the idea he was protecting you."
    There were at least forty people in the Bon Ton, and we had all their attention by now, so I decided to create some problems for him.
    "I heard some renegades hit the Noah Gates herd," I said in a voice that could be heard by everyone there, "and they killed him and murdered his partners. Then they stole the herd."
    I turned to glance around the room. "Too bad they were hard-up old men who drove clean up from Texas. Whoever murdered them must have been the lowest kind of coyotes."
    Half a dozen voices spoke up in emphatic agreement. Then one man asked, "Do you have any idea who they were?"
    "Well," I said, "the last of those old men ran to us for protection. He didn't quite make it, for he was dying when we found him, but his killer was right behind him, trying to finish him off."
    "I hope you killed the skunk."
    "He won't bother anybody again. His name was Rad Miller, a brother to Andy Miller, and one of the outfit he runs with."
    LaSalle Prince wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He threw his leg over the bench, keeping his back to me, and got to his feet. Fumbling in his pockets, he dug out a coin and put it on the table. All around me a buzz of conversation began, and I heard more than one man say, "They ought to be lynched!"
    Caxton Kelsey was getting up, too, and I spoke again. "There's no place in the Territory for men of that stripe. I hope to see every one of them hang."
    Nobody seemed inclined to argue the question, and Kelsey and LaSalle Prince were already out of the door.
    Suddenly a man spoke up. "Why, I saw Andy Miller right here in town--not more'n two hours ago!"
    Several men got up hurriedly, paid for their meals, and left. Handy Corbin looked over at me as I filled my cup again. "I can't quite figure you out, Chancy," he said. "You like to blew the lid off the whole thing."
    I shrugged. "They won't sell any Gates cattle around here. They've got a stolen herd, but they've also got themselves a full-sized problem on what to do with it."
    A big bearded man slammed down his cup and stood up. "You mean those two were among 'em?"
    "The ringleaders," I said.
    "Well, why the billy-be-damned didn't you say so?" he exploded. "We could have nailed 'em."
    "One of those men was Caxton Kelsey," I said; "the other was LaSalle Prince. You want me to start a gun battle in here with that outfit?"
    He let the air out of him and dropped back on the bench. "No, I don't--I surely don't. But you took a chance."
    "I made 'em leave," I