Ben took his horse and headed for a saloon, while more cowboys came racing in, their horses covered with lather and dust. The sheriff watched the first contingent arrive. It was Bud Hickman and his gang from the Tumbling K. Bud was a likable looking cowboy, about twenty-five years of age, tall, lithe, swarthy as an Indian, with curling black hair and a white toothed smile. His crew was a wild riding lot of hard bitted punchers, ready for fun or fight at a moment’s notice.
They noted that Pete Asher and the J88 boys had not arrived yet; so they all headed for the Desert Well Saloon, the biggest place of its kind in Mojave Wells. The sheriff stood on the edge of the sidewalk for a while, cogitating deeply. He had been sheriff of that particular county for nearly two terms, which meant that Buck Brady was pretty much of a man. Finally he went into his little office, and after a search he found an old paint brush and a few ounces of almost dried paint in a battered can. He kicked the ends out of a soap box, drew out the nails and sat down at his desk.
Pete Asher and his crew rode in from the J88, tied their horses farther up the street and entered the Prospect Saloon. Asher was a heavily built, hard faced cowboy, about the same age as Bud Hickman. His hair was almost a neutral shade, his eyes deep set and blue. There was little to choose between his gang and the one which came in with Bud Hickman, and in numbers they were about equal.
There were more outfits to come, but they were not connected with the feud. Rud and his men were at the bar when the sheriff came in, and they greeted him noisily. He was carrying a box end and a hammer, and without any leave from the proprietor he proceeded to nail his sign to one of the walls. It read:
FROM NOW ON EVERY MAN
MUST TURN HIS GUN OVER
TO MY OFFICE UNTIL HE IS
READY TO LEAVE TOWN.
BY ORDER OF
—BUCK BRADY.
Some of the men laughed: some swore. Bud Hickman strode over to the sheriff and glared at him belligerently.
“You tryin’ to kid somebody, Buck?” he asked.
The sheriff looked steadily at Bud for several moments.
“I ain’t in the habit of kiddin’ anybody, am I?”