Cattlemen ride alone across the open range under the deadly aim of roving desperadoes. . . . Gamblers stake their fortunes and their lives on a deck of cards. . . . Strong-willed señoritas seek independence through an enticing combination of beauty, audacity, and spirit. . . . Lawmen and outlaws walk the same dusty streets and speak a common language: Colt, Winchester, Smith & Wesson. Gritty, tough, and unflinchingly authentic, here is the West as it really was: a land where for every friend there is an enemy, for every handshake a fist, for every dispute a resolution—usually in an explosive showdown of blood and bullets. In these remarkable tales, Louis L’Amour—like the very heroes he depicts—blazes a trail across the American frontier and takes us on an unforgettable journey into the heart of our western heritage. Cattlemen ride alone across the open range under the deadly aim of roving desperadoes--. Gamblers stake their fortunes and their lives on a deck of cards--. Strong-willed senoritas seek independence through an enticing combination of beauty, audacity, and spirit--. Lawmen and outlaws walk the same dusty streets and speak a common language:Colt, Winchester, Smith & Wesson.Gritty, tough, and unflinchingly authentic, here is the West as it really was: a land where for every friend there is an enemy, for every handshake a fist, for every dispute a resolution--usually in an explosive showdown of blood and bullets.In these remarkable tales, Louis L'Amour--like the very heroes he depicts--blazes a trail across the American frontier and takes us on an unforgiving journey into the heart of our western heritage. Cattlemen ride alone across the open range under the deadly aim of roving desperadoes--. Gamblers stake their fortunes and their lives on a deck of cards--. Strong-willed senoritas seek independence through an enticing combination of beauty, audacity, and spirit--. Lawmen and outlaws walk the same dusty streets and speak a common language: Colt, Winchester, Smith & Wesson. Gritty, tough, and unflinchingly authentic, here is the West as it really was: a land where for every friend there is an enemy, for every handshake a fist, for every dispute a resolution--usually in an explosive showdown of blood and bullets. In these remarkable tales, Louis L'Amour--like the very heroes he depicts--blazes a trail across the American frontier and takes us on an unforgiving journey into the heart of our western heritage. Our foremost storyteller of the American West, Louis L’Amour has thrilled a nation by chronicling the adventures of the brave men and woman who settled the frontier. There are more than three hundred million copies of his books in print around the world. WE SHAPED THE LAND WITH OUR GUNS   WE MOVED INTO the place on South Fork just before the snow went off. We had a hundred head of cattle gathered from the canyons along the Goodnight Trail, stray stuff from cattle outfits moving north. Most of these cattle had been back in the breaks for a couple of years and rounding them up was man-killing labor, but we slapped our iron on them and headed west.   Grass was showing green through the snow when we got there and the cattle made themselves right at home. Mountains to the east and north formed the base of a triangle of which the sides were shaped by creeks and the apex by the junction of those creeks. It was a good four miles from that apex to the spot we chose for our home place, so we had all natural boundaries with good grass and water. There were trees enough for fuel and shade.   The first two weeks we worked fourteen hours a day building a cabin, cleaning out springs and throwing up a stable, pole corrals, and a smokehouse. We had brought supplies with us and we pieced them out with what game we could shoot. By the time we had our building done, our stock had decided they were home and were fattening up in fine shape.   We had been riding together for more than six months, which isn’t long to know a man you go partners with. Tap Henry was a shade over thirty while I had just turned twenty-two when we hit the South Fork. We had met working for the Gadsen outfit, which took me on just west of Mobeetie while Tap joined up a ways farther north. Both of us were a mite touchy but we hit it off right from the start.   TAP HENRY SHOWED me the kind of man he was before we had been together three days. Some no-account riders had braced us to cut the herd, and their papers didn’t look good to me nor to Tap. We were riding point when these fellers came up, and Tap didn’t wait for the boss. He just told them it was tough, but they weren’t cutting this herd. That led to words and one of these guys reached. Tap downed him and that was that.   He was a pusher, Tap was. When trouble showed up he didn’t sidestep or wait for it. He walked right into the middle and kept crowding until the trouble either backed down or came through. Tall and straight standing, he was a fine, upright sort of man excep