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themselves, mustang cross."
"How much?"
He laughed. "Take 'em and forget it. Look, when Lando Sackett whupped Dune
Caffrey down to Oakville I went down for all I had, and with my winnings I
bought this place and my stock. I built it up and I still have money in the
bank.
"Take 'em along, an' welcome. Only thing is, if Lando fights again, you write
me. I'll come a-runnin'."
"Thanks," I said, "but "
"No buts." Doc Halloran shook his head at me. "Forget it. Reason I asked was
you
on the dodge," he said, "because three hard cases drifted in a few days ago.
They've been sort of hangin' around as if on the lookout for somebody."
The Tinker looked at me, and me at him. Then we sprinted for the buckboard.
CHAPTER IX
Orrin didn't make it sound like much when he told us of it after. He was in
that
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there store, and it was like most country stores, smelling of everything that
was in it good, rich, wonderful smells of new leather, fresh-ground coffee,
cured hams and bacon, spices, and the like.
He knew where we were going and how we'd have to live. We'd have fresh meat
from
the country around us, and we'd have what we could gather in the way of roots
and such, only that wouldn't amount to much unless we happened on it.
A man traveling doesn't have much time for stopping off to look or pick, so
Orrin was buying sides of bacon, flour, meal, coffee, dried fruit, and
whatever
figured to be handy.
He also was buying some .44's for our Winchesters and pistols, and the man
who
owned the store took down a spanking new Smith and Wesson .44 and was showing
it
to Orrin.
Orrin had just put it down when those hard cases walked in. Now they weren't
from the western lands, they were river men, mean as all get-out, but they
didn't know Orrin. They'd been told they were to kill a lawyer ... now
there's
lawyers and there's lawyers.
Just like there was a dentist named Doc Holiday.
They came in the store at the front, and Orrin was back yonder at the
counter.
He must have turned to look, as he would, but likely he was expecting the
Tinker
an' me.
Now those three spread out a little after they got through the door, and they
were all looking at him. It was three to one, and Orrin spoke to the
storekeeper
out of the corner of his mouth. "You better get out. This appears to be a
shooting matter."
"You know those men?"
"No, but they look like they're hunting."
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One of them, who wore a tall beaver hat, noticed the gun on the counter. He
had
his in his hand. He smiled past some broken, yellowed teeth and a straggly
mustache.
"There it is, mister lawyer. You better try for it."
Now that gun was brand new and empty. Orrin knew that, even if they didn't.
He
could also see these were river men, and while there'd been a sight of
shooting
and killing alonf the Mississippi, very little of it was based on fast
drawing.
"If I reached for that gun, you'd kill me."
The man with the beaver hat gave him a wolfish grin. "I reckon."
"But if I don't reach for it, you'll kill me anyway?"
"I reckon we'll do that, too." He was enjoying himself.
"Then I haven't much choice, have I?"
"Nope. You sure ain't."
The other two men were shifting, one to get far over on his left. One of them
was momentarily behind some bib overalls hung from a rafter.
"But if I don't want to reach for that gun, how about this?"
As Orrin spoke, he drew and fired.
Reaction time was important. The three would-be killers were sure that he was
frightened, that being a lawyer he would not be a gunfighter, and that if he
reached it would be for the gun on the counter.
Orrin had always been quick. And he was a dead shot. He fired and turned
sharply
to bring the second man in line, when there was the bellow of a shotgun
behind
him. The man farthest right cried out and ran for the door. He blundered into
the doorpost and then almost fell through the screen door in getting out, a
growing circle of blood on his back and shoulder.
The third man, who had been moving toward the left, dropped his gun and
lifted
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his hands. "Don't shoot! For God's sake, don't shoot!"
Orrin held his gun ready. "All right," he said quietly, "move toward the
door.
Your friend out there may need some help."
The man gestured toward the one with the beaver hat, who had a blue hole
between
his eyes. "What about him?"
"Take him out and bury him. Then if you want to kill somebody, go get the man
who set you up for this."
"They said you was a lawyer!"
"I am. But out where I come from every butcher, baker, and candlestick maker
has
used a gun. Besides, haven't you ever heard of Temple Houston? He is old Sam
Houston's boy, and a lawyer, too, but a dead shot. It doesn't pay to take
anything for granted." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]