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Seltzer, Charles Alden, 1875-1942

"The Boss of the Lazy Y"

Layin' for me
for a week, eh? You sufferin' sneak, thinkin' I was born yesterday!"
He ignored Taggart and looked coolly around at his audience, not a man
of which had moved. He saw the sheriff standing near the door, and it
was to him that he spoke.
"Frame-up," he said in short, sharp accents. "Back Durango way Denver
an' the little guy pulled it off regular. Little man gets your gun.
Denver gets you riled. Sticks his hip out so's you'll grab his gun.
You do. Gun's empty. But you don't know it, an' you try to perforate
Denver. Then he pulls another gun an' salivates you. Self-defense."
He looked around with a cold grin. "Planted an empty on him myself,"
he said. "The little guy fell for it. So did Denver. I reckon that's
all. You wantin' me for this?" he inquired of the sheriff. "You'll
find me at the Lazy Y. Taggart--" He hesitated and looked around.
Taggart was nowhere to be seen. "Sloped," added Calumet, with a laugh.
"I don't reckon I'll want you," said Toban. "Clear case of
self-defense. I reckon most everybody saw the play. Some raw."
Several men had moved; one of them was peering at the faces of Denver
and Garvey. He now looked up at the sheriff.
"Nothing botherin' them any more," he said.
Calumet stepped over to Denver's confederate and took up the pistol
from the floor near him, replacing it in his holster.


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