Free Grass Author:Ernest Haycox Tom Gillette strode into the saloon, his clothes gray with trail dust, his face an angry mask. The men he hunted were at the bar. — "Grist," he said, "you sent your gunlicks to steal my cattle and break me. IN Texas we kill rustler." — Grist's foreman went for his gun, his arm blurring in the lamplight. A table crashed to the floor. Gillette swa... more »yed on his heels and his hand went to his hip. The exchange of gunfire shook the saloon.
The forman suddenly lurched forward adn sank to his knees. He was dead before his Colt dropped from his fingers.
"you wanted war, " Gillette told Grist, his smoking gun still clenched in his hand. "Now you've got one!"« less