This is my land
and I’ll fight to keep it!
TEXAS LAND GRAB
A few of Mesquite’s inhabitants had stopped what they were doing and had drifted closer to watch and listen. Walford saw grins and expectant looks on the faces of the men. Like the barman had said, Will Brinkley hadn’t kept his fencing activity to himself, and the growing audience expected a showdown. But at the same time, Walford could appreciate Brinkley’s feelings. After all, they sprang from past grievances and injustices.
“There’s room for me here, Brinkley,” Walford said slowly. “And for you. I’m willing to work with the people of Mesquite . . .”
Brinkley laughed loudly, his anger dissipating under the satisfaction of making a cowpuncher backdown.
“He’s willing to work in with us, eh?” Brinkley crowed, looking across at his growing audience. “Mighty good of him, seeing it’s our town! I wonder how he worked in with farmers in his cattlemen’s towns. I wonder how we’d be greeted if one of us made a similar friendly overture in Gail.”
There were hostile murmurs from the audience. Brinkley stepped up to Walford, tapped him on the chest and said harshly;
“Get out of Mesquite and stay out! And know this — that fence stays right where it is. If you or anyone else interferes with it, you’ll be bitin’ off a whole lot more trouble than you can chew. Now git!”