Moment Of Vengeance and Other Stories (1956) by Elmore Leonard Read Free Book Online Page B

was a stubble of beard over the angular lines of his lower face and his eyes blinked sleepily. He jabbed another cartridge at the open cylinder of the Colt, and fumbled trying to insert it into one of the small openings. The nose of the bullet missed the groove and slipped from his fingers. Sid Roman was drunk, which wasn't unusual, though it wasn't evident from his face. The glazed expression was natural. Behind him, two men with their hats tilted loosely over their eyes sat on the steps of the Samas Cafe, their boots stretched out into the street. A half-full bottle was between them on the ramada step. A third man lounged on his elbows against the hitch rack, leaning heavily like a dead weight. Jimmy Robles moved off the boardwalk and stood next to the man on the hitch rack.
    Sid Roman loaded the pistol and waved it carelessly over his head. He tried to look around at the men behind him without moving his feet and stumbled off balance, almost going down.
    "Come on . . . who's got the money!" His eyes, heavy lidded, went to the two men on the steps.
    "Hey, Walt, dammit! Put up your dollar!"
    The one called Walt said, "I got it. Go ahead and shoot," and hauled the bottle up to his mouth. Sid Roman yelled to the man on the hitch rack, "You in, Red?" The man looked up, startled, and stared around as if he didn't know where he was. Roman waved his pistol toward the high front of the saloon across the street. supreme, in foot-high red letters, ran across the board hanging from the top of the ramada. "A dollar I put five straight in the top loop of the P. " He slurred his words impatiently. Jimmy Robles heard the man next to him mumble, "Sure, Sid." He looked at the sign, squinting hard, but could not make out any bullet scars near the P. Maybe there was one just off to the left of the S. He waited until the cowman turned and started to raise the Colt.
    "Hey, Sid." Jimmy Robles smiled at him like a friend. "I got some good targets out back of the jail."
    Aiming, Sid Roman turned irritably, hot in the face. Then the expression was blank and glassy again.
    "How'd you know my name?" Jimmy Robles smiled, embarrassed. "I just heard this man call you that."
    Roman looked at him a long time. "Well you heard wrong," he finally said. "It's Mr. Roman."
    A knot tightened the deputy's mouth, but he kept the smile on his lips even though its meaning was gone. "All right, mester. It's all the same to me."
    John Benedict said you had to be courteous. The man was staring at him hard, weaving slightly. He had heard of Sid Roman, old man Remillard's top hand, but this was the first time he had seen him close. He stared back at the beardgrubby face and felt uneasy because the face was so expressionless--looking him over like he was a dead tree stump. Why couldn't he get laughing drunk like the Mexican boys, then he could be laughing, too, when he took his gun away from him.
    "Why don't you just keep your mouth shut," Roman said, as if that was the end of it. But then he added, "Go on and sweep out your jailhouse," grinning and looking over at the men on the steps. The one called Walt laughed out and jabbed at the other man with his elbow.
    Jimmy Robles held on to the smile, gripping it with only his will now. He said, "I'm just thinking of the people. If a stray shot went inside, somebody might get hurt."
    "You saying I can't shoot, or're you just chicken scared!"
    "I'm just saying there are many people on the street and inside there."
    "You're talking awful damn big for a dumb Mex kid. You must be awful dumb." He looked toward the steps, handling the pistol idly. "He must be awful dumb, huh, Walt?"
    Jimmy Robles heard the one called Walt mumble, "He sure must," but he kept his eyes on Roman, who walked up to him slowly, still looking at him like he was a stump or something that couldn't talk back or hear. Now, only a few feet away, he saw a glimmer in the sleepy eyes as if a new thought was punching its way through his head.
    "Maybe we ought to