Six Guns Straight From Hell - Tales Of Horror And Dark Fantasy From The Weird Weird West by Jennifer Campbell-Hicks, David B. Riley (Editors) Read Free Book Online

James Hotel when the barkeep related the story of Clay Allison's act of decapitation. We had decided to stop for a spell during a 3,000 mile motorcycle run. Now, whether that head talked or not is a matter of conjecture, or maybe a matter of how many beers you consume. But the bloody events of that night are still talked about to this day. Being the opportunistic writer I am, I figured I would team up with the lovely and talented Ms. Dean to tell the tale in our own way.” When Bill isn’t writing stories about mostly dead things, he is out on that motorcycle looking for more ideas.
    “ Bill and I share many things- beer, a love of spooky things and a brain. Granted, not everyone shares well, but we have it down to a science- mad science, that is. When he told me the Gentleman gunslinger story the enthusiasm rolled out and didn't stop until the end of the story you see before you. Keep your salt handy!” Sherri is a writer and illustrator, costumer and active member of genre fandom .
     
     
     
     
     

Decently and Quietly Dead
    by
    Matthew Baugh
     
     
     
    “ Dave Mather!”
    The sheriff’s hand darted for the gun on his desk, but I was faster. He looked into the barrel of my .44 and decided that it wasn’t worth it. I took his gun and backed up a few steps.
    There’s a reason I don’t come to Arkansas when I can help it. Some years ago, I was involved in a group of cattle rustlers along with Dirty Dave Rudabaugh and Milton Yarbrough. One night, Milt got it in his head to rob the home of a well to do rancher. The man came home unexpectedly and Milt panicked and shot a few holes in him. The three of us lit out for Texas after that. I hadn’t been back since.
    “ You’ve got some sand coming into my office like this,” the lawman said.
    “ Didn't think there’d be anyone who remembered that old wanted poster,” I replied.
    “ What do you want?”
    I pulled a letter out of my coat pocket and tossed it to him.
    The sheriff opened the note and read it. He was a medium sized man with a lot of swagger and a moustache that would have put Wyatt Earp’s to shame. Like a lot of lawmen I've known, he was trying too hard to prove how tough he was. I wear hair on my lip, too, but I'm not looking to prove anything to anyone. There are enough fights in my life that I can't avoid, there's no sense looking for more.
    He looked up from the paper with a puzzled expression. “This says that you’ve been given a limited amnesty by Judge Isaac Parker and you’re one of his special deputies.”
    I nodded and opened my coat to show him the federal badge I had pinned there. It felt funny to wear such a thing, given my past, but I did enjoy watching the sheriff’s expression change.
    “ I don’t know what this is about Mather,” he said, “but the Hanging Judge’s word carries a lot of sway in these parts. Why are you here?”
    “ I’m looking for a fugitive,” I replied. “He’s named Roger McMasters. Judge Parker convicted him of robbery, rape and murder up in the Indian Territory, but he managed to get away. The Judge heard that there was a man here in Bitter Water who might be McMasters. He sent me to check on it.”
    The Sheriff nodded. “My name’s Rufus Teague,” he said and offered his hand. I shook it.
    “ I never heard of anyone escaping from Fort Smith,” Teague said. “How did he do it?”
    “ I was told that they hanged him,” I replied. “The doctor certified him dead. The undertaker was fitting a casket for him when he sat up. Scared the man half to death. McMasters rode off before anyone knew what was happening.”
    “ A dead man got up and left?” The Sheriff chuckled, but stopped when he looked me in the eye. “Are you serious?” he asked.
    I was, but I couldn't think of anything to say that he would believe. For that matter, I didn't particularly care if he believed me, so long as he stayed out of my way.
    “ You say you think he’s in Bitter Water?” the sheriff asked.
    “ A