Return of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page B

hooves drumming on the hard-packed dirt came to them. Two of the bodyguards that had been with Jane reined up in the street, turning their horses to face Buck and Sally.
    Buck gently but firmly pushed Sally to one side. “Stand clear,” he said in a low voice. “Trouble ahead.”
    â€œWhat—?” she managed to say before one of Richards’s gunhands cut her off.
    â€œYou run on home now, schoolmarm. This here might git messy.”
    Sally stuck her chin out. “I will stand right here on this boardwalk until the soles of my shoes grow roots before I’ll take orders from you, you misbegotten cretin!”
    Buck grinned at her. Now this lady had some sand to her.
    â€œWhat the hell did she call me?” the cowboy said to his friend.
    â€œDurned if I know.”
    The cowboy swung his eyes back to Buck. “You insulted Miss Janey, boy. She’s madder than a tree full of hornets. You got fifteen minutes to git your gear and git gone.”
    â€œI think I’ll stay,” Buck said. He had thumbed the thongs off his .44s after pushing Sally to one side.
    â€œBoy,” the older and uglier of the bodyguards said, “do you know who I am?”
    â€œCan’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” Buck replied.
    â€œName’s Dickerson, from over Colorado way. That ring a bell in your head?”
    It did, but Buck didn’t let it show. Dickerson was a top gun. No doubt about that. Not only was he mean, he was cat quick with a pistol. “Nope. Sorry.”
    â€œAnd this here,” Dickerson jerked a thumb, “is Russell.”
    Buck hadn’t heard of Russell, but he figured if the guy rode with Dickerson, he’d be good. “Pleased to meet you,” Buck said politely.
    Dickerson gave Buck an exasperated look. “Boy, are you stupid or tryin’ to be smart-mouthed?”
    â€œNeither one. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’d like to continue my stroll with Miss Reynolds.”
    Both Dickerson and Russell dismounted, ground-reining their ponies. “Only place you goin’ is carried to Boot Hill, boy.”
    Several citizens had gathered around to watch the fun, including one young cowhand with a weather-beaten face and a twinkle in his eyes.
    â€œStand clear,” Buck told the crowd.
    The gathering crowd backed up and out of the line of impending fire. They hoped.
    â€œI’ve bothered no one,” Buck said to the crowd, without taking his eyes from the two gunhands facing him. “And I’m not looking for a fight. But if I’m pushed, I’ll fight. I just wanted that made public.”
    â€œGit on your hoss and ride, boy!” Russell said. “And do it right now.”
    â€œI’m staying.”
    â€œYou a damn fool, boy!” Dickerson said. “But if you want a lead supper, that’s up to you.”
    â€œLead might fly in both directions,” Buck said calmly. “Were I you, I’d think about that.”
    Some odd light flickered quickly through Dickerson’s eyes. He wasn’t used to being sassed or disobeyed. But damn this boy’s eyes, he didn’t seem to be worried at all. Who in the devil was they up against?
    â€œThat’s Buck West, Dickerson,” the young cowboy with the beat-up face said.
    â€œThat don’t spell road apples to me,” Russell said. He glared at Buck. “Move, tinhorn, or the undertaker’s gonna be divvyin’ up your pocket money.”
    â€œI like it here,” Buck said.
    â€œThen draw, damn you!” Dickerson shouted. He went for his gun. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Russell grab for his .45.
    Buck’s hands swept down and up with the speed of an angry striking snake. His matched .44s roared and belched smoke and flame. The ground-reined horses snorted and reared at the noise. Dickerson and Russell lay on the dusty street. Both were badly wounded. The guns of the PSR men lay beside them in the