George Story's Interview with Reuben Hayes

 

 

INTERVIEW WITH REUBEN HAYES,

As Written Word for Word by George Story, Independent Reporter

 

So, Mr. Hayes, is it true you’ve killed over a dozen men?

I’ve never killed anyone that didn’t need it, and don’t rightly see as how it’s any of your dadblamed business.

Okay, we’ll table that for now.

We’ll table it period.

About Miss Baylor, the senator’s daughter—

We aren’t discussing Miss Baylor. Not now, not ever.

I hear she’s a guest of yours.

Sonny, unless you want that pretty face rearranged, I suggest you drop it.

Got it.

How about telling me about your ranch. I hear you are starting a new breed of cattle. Care to tell me about that?

Oh, I’m not starting it. Brandon Wade of Silverhills’ Ranch has started the new herehorn breed. I just plan on using his cattle to improve my herd.

Herehorn?

Yeah, it’s a cross between a Hereford and a longhorn.

And what makes them so special?

They taste better than longhorn beef and they’re stronger and more resilient than Herefords.

Now, Mr. Hayes, I don’t want my face rearranged but I hear Miss Baylor has a way with horses.

That she does. Took after her ma in that respect.

And that would be—

That’s enough about Miss Baylor and her ma.

Alright, what about this Hawk character, that’s working for you?

What about him?

I hear he’s a gunslinger.

I don’t set much store by rumor and innuendo. He’s saved Sage—er Miss Baylor —on more than one occasion from grievous harm. That’s good enough for me.

And what grievous harm was that?

I suggest you worry about your own grievous harm instead of Miss Baylor’s.

Okay. Okay. I’d appreciate it if you’d remove your fist from my shirt collar. Thank you. I just have one more question about your house guest.

You don’t listen very well, do you?

It’s a hazard of being a reporter. What is the daughter of a famous senator doing at your ranch?

This interview is over.

And that gentle reader was the end of my interview. Mr. Hayes jumped up so fast, he knocked over his chair. When he made a fist, I was seriously concerned about my face getting rearranged, but he just shook it at me and strode through the door. There’s a mystery here and I have every intention of getting to the bottom of it. Watch for my next column.

 

 

 

The crusty, middle-aged rancher had only ever loved one woman. And now her daughter stood on his doorstep.

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