Ralph Compton Death Along the Cimarron by RALPH COMPTON Read Free Book Online

short yelp as a bullet hit the ground and dirt kicked up against his bony legs. The mutt turned and disappeared, barking as he fled. “I said shoot him,” said Earl, over his shoulder, “not shoot at him.”
    Dirty Joe slipped his pistol back into his holster and whispered sidelong to Avery McRoy, “Ain’t nothing going please him till we catch Ronald’s killers.”
    â€œI know,” Avery whispered in reply. “And like as not, Ronald was asking for what he got.”
    â€œI wouldn’t let anybody hear me say that if I was you,” said Turley, his whisper growing even softer.
    â€œI already let you hear it,” said Avery. “Do I have to kill you now to keep you quiet?” He chuckled under his breath.
    â€œDon’t be kidding around about this,” Turley warned.
    â€œAll right, I’ll stop,” said Avery McRoy, chuckling even louder.
    â€œWhat’s so funny back there?” Earl asked, sounding none too friendly. Faces turned to Turley and McRoy in the darkness.
    â€œNothing, Boss,” said Turley. “Just laughing at the hound.” Behind dusty windows along the dark boardwalk, a small number of kerosene lamps came to life. From the saloon a half block away, three heads stuck out above the batwing doors, staring toward the sound of the gunshot. “Get ready, boys. Here comes our welcoming committee,” said Earl Muir.
    The three men from the saloon stepped down from the boardwalk and hurried along the dirt street. Two more men appeared out of the darkness, one from behind a door where a woman stood watching with her sleeping gown held tight at her throat.
    â€œWhat’s the shooting about out here?” asked one of the townsmen, sounding cross and hooking his suspenders up over his shoulders. “It’s the middle of the night for God sakes!”
    Stepping down from his saddle with his rifle in his hands, Earl slammed the rifle butt into the townsman’s stomach. The townsman hit the ground and rolled into a ball, both arms wrapped across his middle. From the doorway the woman came screaming, her gown and robe fluttering in the darkness. “Robert! Robert!”
    Earl grabbed her and threw her to the ground. “Shut up, woman, or you’ll get the same thing!” She crawled sobbing to her fallen husband and tried to lift him to his feet. But with his breath still knocked out of him, all he could do was make tight gurgling sounds as he squirmed in the dirt.
    Seeing what had happened, the three men from the saloon came to a sharp halt and turned around, ready to slip away into the night. But Earl saw them and called out in a threatening voice. “Get over here, you cowardly peckerwoods, before I kill the lot of you!”
    As more townsfolk appeared from behind doors, Earl’s men jumped down from their saddles and hurriedly rounded them up in the middle of the street. The frightened faces looked down at Robert Blanchard lying in the dust, and at his wife, Annabelle, who knelt sobbing beside him. One townsman stepped forward to help the Blanchards, but Earl shoved him back. “You stay put. He’s doing fine on his own!”
    â€œHe’s hurt, and I’m the town doctor!” the man said, pointing a finger down at Robert Blanchard.
    â€œYou’ll be treating yourself if you don’t stand back and shut the hell up,” Earl growled. He shoved the old doctor back, then called out. “Everybody listen close to what I’m saying. I ain’t about to repeat myself.” As he spoke, he drew his pistol and flashed it back and forth. “This morning an old man and a young woman killed my brother right here on the street in this hog-wallow of a town! I’m holding everybody here responsible! I know the woman has a spread out in the hills beyond the mesa. Who wants to be the first to tell me how to get there?”
    A grizzly old teamster stepped forward and spit in the dirt at