Pushing his way through the bat-wing doors, he crossed the almost empty room to the bar. "Rye," he said, and glanced quickly around the room.
Only two men stood at the bar at this hour, a burly cattle-buyer and a drummer. Several other men played cards at the scattered tables, all within range of this voice.
"Have you seen Kilkenny?"
There was a sudden stillness in the room. A cattleman at the nearest poker table picked up his cards, glanced at them, folded them into a neat packet and placed them on the table. "No, I haven't seen him, and I'm not likely to. . . Nor are you. He's a man who prefers to be left alone, and if you know anything about Kilkenny you know he's a good man to leave alone."
"I've been sent to find him," the puncher said stubbornly, "an' I'm to stay at it until I do."
A man had moved to the bar beside him. He was a square-shouldered young man with a look about him the cowhand did not like. Moreover, he knew the man by sight as did a good many Texas men. Wes Hardin was a veteran of the Sutton-Taylor feud and one of the most feared men in Texas.
"What do you want with Kilkenny?" Hardin asked.
"Looks like a range war shapin' up in the Live Oak country," the puncher told them. Suddenly all heck broke loose....
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(most of this is copyright Louis L'amour, and the painting of course courtesy of CM Russell)....but the targets are mine....50 rounds off hand standing, open sights, 45 Colt 250 gr Winchester LFN....maybe my best targets yet. 
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