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  Tildy Mae took Tad’s arm, then hooked her other through her grandfather’s. She turned and winked at Red and Folsom. “Tell Ole Devil we’ll be over to visit him after the fall round-up,” she said.

  “And tell him to save some of that corn-likker until I come. He never was a judge of it,” Stomp growled.

  “Wonder if he’ll ever find out?” Folsom asked.

  “Maybe; maybe not. He’ll be leaving here soon, and Tildy Mae can handle him,” Red replied. “Talking of handling, where did you learn to handle a gun like that?”

  Folsom and his wife looked at each other. Then she smiled, and replied: “We wouldn’t want this to get out, but our name isn’t Folsom.”

  “No, we use it as a cover,” said her husband. “Find it is less trouble than using my own.”

  Red watched the man’s face. Was there something familiar about it he wondered. “Less trouble?” That was more polite than a direct question.

  “Yes, you see my real name is Frank Leslie.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Winner of The Bet

  “BUCKSKIN FRANK LESLIE?” Dusty looked at his cousin Red. “I often wondered where he’d got to.”

  The hour was late and Jean Mollison looked around the table at the men who sat there. She took in Mark’s classically handsome features and his giant’s size. Then at the Indian-dark, baby-faced innocent expression of the Ysabel Kid. Next, at the freckle-faced, pugnaciously good-looking face of Red Blaze. Then at the intelligent, well-shaped features of the boy she only knew as Waco. Finally her eyes went to the small, insignificant-looking man who was the leader of this reckless bunch of peerless fighting men. The man who led them and steered them through any trouble! Dusty Fog.

  “Tell you though,” Red went on, having just completed the story of his adventures. “With my kind of luck, I shouldn’t be paying in more than six dollars. It was five-to-one that I found trouble.”

  “You put down the thirty, Red boy,” the Ysabel Kid replied unsympathetically.

  “The question is, who’s won the bet,” Jean remarked.

  All eyes went to the girl, and the same question flooded into the heads of the men around the table.

  “Let me see,” Jean went on, ticking the names off on her fingers. “Waco got into trouble in Bennet. The Ysabel Kid found his in the town of Wet Slim. Mark Counter made it to Casa Grande, then he lost out. Red Blaze, you reached Pinto then you found trouble.”

  Dusty reached across the table and took up the money. He tapped it into a neat pile and took the wallet from inside his shirt, opening it.

  “Hold hard there, Dusty!” the Kid said softly. “Why for are you putting that money away? You was belly-deep in trouble when we got here.”

  “Why sure,” Dusty agreed. “What was the bet?”

  “That we got to Tensonville without trouble,” Mark stated, but there was worry in his voice now.

  “What’s the name of this town?” Dusty turned to Jean and asked.

  “Tensonville,” Jean replied, a gurgle of amusement coming into her voice as she saw what Dusty was driving at.

  So did the others around the table; and dismay started to show in four faces even before Dusty started to talk again.

  “Sure. The bet was that we got to Tensonville, without getting into trouble. That’s what I did. Never had any trouble at all until I reached here. Miss Jean, I put it to you, does that cover the agreement we laid down, or not?”

  Jean threw back her head, laughing at the mingled dismay and annoyance on the four faces. Then she composed herself and putting on a straight and judicial face nodded her head.

  “As an impartial judge, I’d say that Dusty Fog has won the bet.”

  THE END

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  Table of Contents

  THE TEXAN

  Rear cover text

  Teaser

  Title Page

  Copyright details

  1 - A Case Of Mistaken Identity

  2 - A Second Case of Mistaken Identity

  3 - Sam Ysabel’s Son

  4 - The Major

  5 - Stomp Hollorhan’s Boast

  6 - The Winner of The Bet

  Advertising

  Rear Cover