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Fort Worth, Texas, was the ju north on the Chishol to the needs of the cowboy Merchants sold supplies of flour, sugar, coffee, ars, and other items to the trail outfits There were saloons, dance halls, and sporting woet bored before he left

It was a toith growing pains Main and Houston streets were paved, although ht term to describe theray li up But there was a definite lack of sidewalks No one in Fort Worth was too concerned about the rival Western Trail taking the trail herds away from the much-traveled Chisholm

But the trailing season was over for this year Fort Worth was quiet on the November afternoon Chase Benteen Calder rode in His clothes were stiff with trail gri rowth shadowed his rawboned features, es of his hair had a dark copper cast It was rough hair—heavy hair, curling thickly into the scarf tied aroun

d his neck and knotted loosely at the throat

With the packhorse in tow, Benteen walked his mount to the livery stable He wasn’t a aze continued its survey of the surrounding streets and buildings and the people in town He halted the bay in front of the stable’s open doors and disround The sly around hi hobbled out of the shadowed interior

“Hey, Benteen,” he greeted “I thought you’d quit these parts”

“In tiave him a thin smile, weary like the man

The rattle of an approaching buggy drew his glance to the street Benteen recognized Judd Boston at the reins, accompanied by an escort of riders The owner of the Ten Bar was dressed in a dark suit and vest, the starched white collar of his shirt circling his throat The bowler hat atop his head further distinguished him from the riders The power that caance of his posture

For all the dandified appearance of Judd Boston, Benteen didn’tsoftness Beneath those Eastern clothes, the ether with hard nized hi and thin as he pulled within himself

After the long journey, Benteen was tired, dirty, and irritable He wanted nothing more than to take a bath, have a cold beer, and see Lorna—in that order He wasn’t in the mood for a conversation with Judd Boston, but he had little choice

He had never liked the ure it was necessary to like the person he worked for Benteen couldn’t pinpoint the reason he didn’t like Judd Boston Maybe it was because he was a Yankee or because he was a banker—not a true cattleman Or maybe it was his clean white hands that caused Benteen to distrust him—so clean and white, as if they’d been washed too many times

The buggy pulled up close to the livery stable, the escort of riders fanning protectively along the street side Other ranchers rode into town alone, but Judd Boston never went anywhere without athat raised questions in Benteen’s uilty conscience, or did the banker-rancher like the is?

“Calder!” It was a stiff coy

The ordering tone straightened his shoulders slightly, but Benteen allowed no other resenty with the loose, unhurried stride of a rider, each step accole of his work spurs He stopped beside the buggy, saying nothing because he had nothing to say