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fence will stop them.
"My folks came fromEurope and never owned a bit of land to call their own.
They were beholden to the lord of the manor for their living, yet before my
old father died he owned more than the lord of the manor had.
"You see a few poor shacks now, but give us time. We have been shipping
buffalo hides and bones to the eastern markets, and now we're beginning to
ship beef. Give us a few years and we will be storing and shipping grain."
He lifted a finger at Tom. "Shanaghy, we need young men here, young men like
you."
"Like me?" Shanaghy's grin was sour. "What do you know of me?"
"All we need to know, all we will ever ask. You can do an honest day's work
and you take pride in what you do. No man who loves the working of iron as you
do can be bad."
Their food was brought and when the waiter had gone, Carpenter said, "The
wheels you fitted for Drako? Beautiful! You're a fine craftsman, Tom!A fine
craftsman!"
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Shanaghy felt himself flushing, and with pride, and embarrassment as well.
Nobody had called him a craftsman before, and he relished the term.
"You take pride in your work. You have an eye for the color of red-hot iron
such as only the true craftsman has.
"I tell you, Tom, a man who has never taken pride in a job well done is an
empty man."
They ate then, and drank their coffee, but Carpenter had set Tom to thinking.
Why not stay, after all?
What did he oweMorrissey, or any of them back east? Morrissey had given him a
job when needed, but Tom had repaid him with an honest day's work and no
shirking. He had fought Morrissey's enemies and made a few of his own in the
process, but what had he to show for it?A little money in the bank, a tribute
to his mother's advice.
Surely, there was not a soul there who would miss him past the week. Others
had disappeared or gone away, and Shanaghy remembered well how little they
were missed.
He could scarcely remember the Bowery for the grass blowing in the wind.
Carpenter put down his knife and fork. "Holstrum said you were taking the job
as marshal, and that you were sent by Rig Barrett."
"In a way," Tom said, "and it doesn't look as if Rig is going to make it in
time ... I shall do what he planned to do and ride out to meet Vince
Patterson,"
"You said you did not believe him to be the greatest trouble? What, then?"
"At this moment, I am not sure. I trust no man now, although you most of
all."
"You won't be leaving on the train?"
Tom hesitated for a long time and then he said, "Not right now.Maybe later."
He looked over at the smith. "I shall need a horse for a few days."
"I have one ... the blue roan in the corral. There's the rig for him, too."
They went back to work then, and they handled their iron. And when the train
came in, Tom was standing outside to see it stop. There was, he knew, still
time. He could still make it. For a moment he hesitated, then went back into
the shop and took off his apron.
"South of here," he asked Carpenter, "are there any ranches?"
"Nothing this side ofTexas that I know of.Holstrum has a place about seven or
eight miles southeast.Nothing but a cabin, shed and a corral. He runs a few
head down there and usually has some horses for riding."
"Who takes care of the stock?"
"He's got a man there, but the stock doesn't drift much because he has the
best grass and water for miles. He's a canny man, Holstrum is. I've a place,
too, but not as good as the one he found."
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Carpenter considered the subject, then added, "Only other place around is
about ten miles west. There's a two-by-four saloon over there and about three
dugouts. Drako lives about three miles south of it,he and his boys."
"Who makes me marshal?" Shanaghy asks. "If I am to do anything I'd better be
wearing a badge ... or have one."
"Greenwood. You go see him. It was him suggested Rig Barrett.Greenwood 's had
experience with tough towns. He held out for Barrett and I backed him."
"What about Holstrum?"
"He was worried we'd get a worse Drako. So were some of the others. I could
see his point, because Drako is bad enough."
Greenwoodwas leaning in his bar in the empty saloon when Shanaghy walked in.
He was a pleasant-looking man who seemed to be in his late thirties. He smiled
a little when he saw Shanaghy. "Talked you into it, did they? I hoped they
would."
Shanaghy took the badgeGreenwood pushed toward him and pinned it on his shirt
pocket. "First time I ever wore one of them," he said.
Greenwoodsmiled. "You'll wear it with pride, son. I know your kind."
"My kind?"Shanaghy turned his eyes on him. "Mr. Greenwood, I've been a
shoulder-striker for John Morrissey."
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