Gun Play at Cross Creek by Bill Dugan Read Free Book Online Page A

just made him mad.
    He ordered a whiskey from the bartender, then sat at a vacant table in the corner, nursing his drink and his anger. Part of him wanted to storm across the street and tell Kinkaid to leave him alone, and part of him wanted to climb on his horse and light out for Montana with nothing in his pocket.
    Instead, he had another whiskey, then a third. The bartender was reluctant to serve him the last one. It was too early for somebody to have such red eyes and such slurred speech. But Deak Slayton had a bad temper, and everybody knew it. It was better just to let him have his own way, and stand back.
    On the fourth whiskey, the bartender drew the line, bad temper or no. “You had enough, Deak,” he said.
    â€œYou don’t be telling me that, Johnny. I know when I had enough, not you.”
    â€œBut Mr. Carlson told me not to even serve you. I give you three. You get in a ruckus, and it’ll cost me my job.”
    â€œThere won’t be no ruckus if you bring me my whiskey.”
    â€œCan’t do it, Mr. Slayton.”
    â€œThe hell you can’t.” Deak grabbed the kid by the suspenders and jerked him over the bar. That was his first mistake. Johnny got up scared and broke for the door. He flew through it with his head down and tumbled into the street. The marshal saw him and was halfway across the street by the time Johnny was on his feet again.
    â€œWhat’s the trouble, son?” he asked.
    â€œNo trouble. I, unh, I just lost my balance, Marshal, that’s all. Honest.”
    â€œSure. Deak Slayton wouldn’t happen to be the reason you lost your balance, now, would he?”
    â€œNo, sir. Just careless, I guess. That’s all.”
    â€œWhere you headed?”
    â€œNo place. I just . . .”
    A gunshot drowned out the next couple of words, and breaking glass the rest of his answer. The marshal patted him on the shoulder. “You just wait here, son. I’ll handle this.”
    â€œI can get Mr. Carlson. He’ll take care of it.”
    â€œNo he won’t, son. I will.”
    Kinkaid was already on the boardwalk. He stepped into the bar to find Deak Slayton drinking from a broken bottle of bourbon. He had cut his lip on the sharp edge, but didn’t seem to have noticed.
    â€œBetter put that bottle down, Deak.”
    â€œNah. It ain’t empty.” Slayton took another pull, this time spilling whiskey all down the front of his shirt.
    â€œI said you better put it down.”
    Slayton set the bottle on the bar. He tried to be careful, but it tipped over anyway and spilled onto the floor with a loud splat. He gave a long sigh of exasperation. “I guess we might as well get to it,” he said.
    â€œDoesn’t have to be like this, Deak.”
    â€œSure it does, Marshal. You been wanting to pull down on me since I come to town. What’s the use of waiting any longer.”
    â€œJust put up your gun, real easy. Lay it on the bar, and that’ll be the end of it.”
    â€œYou know that ain’t so, Marshal.”
    â€œHave it your way.”
    Slayton shook his head. “No, sir. We’ll have it your way. That’ll be just fine.”
    He wiggled his fingers to loosen them, then went for it. Kinkaid was a lot faster. He put one in Deak Slayton’s chest, just above the third shirt button. Deak slid down the front of the bar, leaving a long, dark, shiny smear on the wood. In the dim lamplight, it looked almost like creosote.
    Deak swallowed once, then a small bubble of blood ballooned between his lips. He groaned, the rush of air bursting the bubble. Then it got quiet.

Chapter 7
    â€œSO,” MORGAN SAID . “The boy—Tommy—he’s not here, then?”
    â€œHe’ll be back. And it’s Tom. I already told you that.”
    â€œGo easy on me, Katie. It’s been a long time.”
    She laughed, a harsh, explosive sound that seemed to die as soon as it left her lips.