Kill McAllister by Matt Chisholm Read Free Book Online

into his belt to one side so that it did not show. He looked like a parson ready to go to church for Sunday sermon. He also looked strong enough to throw a long-horn bull. Forster had every reason to feel confidence in him.
    â€œHow many boys can you get hold of?” Forster asked.
    â€œAbout six.”
    â€œTake two of them with you when you get McAllister. Send the rest down here.”
    Grotten nodded and walked out. Forster was still showing his teeth.
    Grotten plodded steadily through town, calling in at the various saloons and bawdy houses where he knew the boys might be until he had gathered six together. That he thought should be enough however much of a heller McAllister should prove to be. He chose to take Jack Sholto and Cal Cowdrey with him. The rest he sent back to the shack. Nobody argued. Men generally didn’t argue with Grotten. He checked that the two men he had retained carriedguns and led the way down Garrett. Within minutes, he was shouldering his way through the doorway of the Dowling House. The three of them lined themselves up at the desk. The clerk, who knew them, went a little pale.
    Grotten said: “Son, you never saw us. I want McAllister.”
    The fellow swallowed once powerfully and said: “I never saw you, Mr. Grotten. Number Two front.”
    â€œGood.”
    Grotten led the way upstairs. At the door of Number Two, he stopped and tapped softly.
    â€œWho’s there?” asked a voice inside.
    â€œI’m from the marshal’s office, Mr. McAllister. I’m Deputy Carson.”
    Bootheels sounded, a chair was taken from under the doorhandle and a tall dark man appeared.
    â€œMr. McAllister?” Grotten’s voice was at its most urbane.
    â€œThat’s me.”
    Grotten slid his hand under his coat and came up with the Colt’s gun. He gave McAllister credit. The big man didn’t even blink. Immediately the gun was on him, he accepted the fact that if he played the fool he was as good as dead.
    â€œYou’d best come in,” he said affably, but Grotten wasn’t fooled. He had his hands full of man here.
    The three men stepped into the room. Sholto and Cowdrey fanned out on either side, their guns out now, and Grotten stayed near the door.
    Grotten said: “We’re going to take a walk down town. Quietly. You make a break for it and I gun you down.”
    â€œThere’s a real marshal in this town,” McAllister reminded him.
    â€œThere’s a risk,” Grotten agreed. “But there’s a lot at stake. If you try anything, it’ll be worthwhile killing you.”
    McAllister smiled a little.
    â€œWe know where we stand,” he said. “Shall we go?”
    â€œSholto,” Grotten ordered, “move out head. McAllister, keep away from him. I’ll go next. Cowdrey, you bring up the rear.”
    They moved off in procession down the landing, down the stairs and turned back on themselves to go through the building to the rear entrance. As they went through the kitchen a female cook raised hell at them tramping through her domain, but nobody paid her any heed and a moment later they were plodding through the backlots. Nobody spoke a word. They left the backlotsfor the rough ground on the outskirts of town, reached the creek bank and walked along it. The three Jayhawkers now had their guns out of sight, but McAllister knew that they would be quick enough to draw them if he tried anything. There was some apprehension in him, he wouldn’t have been human if there had not, but there was also a feeling of triumph, for he guessed that these men would take him to the man he sought.
    After some minutes walking they sighted some trees and headed for a shack standing among them. Though it was fairly newly built, as was every building around here, it already had a decrepit and uncared-for look about it. Sholto opened the door and shoved McAllister inside. He stared around, trying to get his eyes accustomed to