The Best Rootin' Tootin' Shootin' Gunslinger in the Whole Damned Galaxy by Mike Resnick Read Free Book Online Page B

Flint watched him for a moment, ground his cigarette out on the rocky loam, and made his way to the cage.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  Batman, the tall reddish native of Sabellius III, sat on a platform above a small pool of water. The platform was attached to a lever which stuck out one side of the cage and culminated in a plastic bull’s-eye. Monk stood perhaps fifty feet away from the cage, next to a huge container of hard rubber balls.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Cold day,’” said Flint, blowing on his hands and rubbing them briskly.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “I’ve seen worse,” said Monk. “You should have been with me back when I was hunting bears in the Klondike."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Still, I think maybe you ought to pack it in for today."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Horseshit!” snapped Monk. He picked up a ball, whirled, and threw it at the bull’s-eye, and grinned when it struck its mark and dumped Batman into the water. “He loves the water. Don’t you, you furry bastard?” he yelled at the Sabellian, while taking a credit out of one pocket and putting it into another. “Don’t look so outraged, Thaddeus. I pay when I play.” He turned back to Batman. “You ain’t getting no towel until you ask for one."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  The Sabellian muttered something in his native tongue. It sounded like gibberish to Flint, but Monk’s face turned bright red and he hurled another ball at the target. This time it missed, and Batman uttered a harsh laugh.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “What are you going to do when he comes down with pneumonia?” asked Flint.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Laugh myself sick,” answered the burly former animal trainer.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “When do you switch places?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Tomorrow, like always. Why?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “He’ll never make it,” said Flint. “That water’s got to be forty degrees."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “You want us to knock off for the day, we’ll knock off for the day,” said Monk. He raised his voice again. “Only he’s got to be the one to ask."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Well, what about it?” said Flint, turning to Batman. “Are you ready to sign a truce until the weather gets better?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Certainly,” said Batman in English.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Good. Then it’s settled."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Monk must request it first."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “And if he doesn’t?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Then we shall see if his skin keeps him as warm as my fur keeps me,” said Batman with a grin. “Mr. Ahasuerus says it will be even colder tomorrow." He stared unblinking at Monk. “I look forward to it with great anticipation."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Do you at least want a towel?” asked Flint wearily.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Will Monk use a towel tomorrow?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “I ain’t using nothing you don’t use!” bellowed Monk.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  Batman turned his level gaze to Flint. “Does that answer your question?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Perfectly,” said Flint, wondering why he had let Tojo talk him into this. “But if it snows, I’m closing you down."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “If Monk wants to quit, I will be more than happy to take the night off," said the Sabellian. He paused. “But we work tomorrow."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  Monk transferred three more bills from one pocket to the other, picked up three balls, and hurled the first of them, dunking Batman again. “Why the hell should I quit?” he said with a sudden intensity. “I’m having the time of my life!”  
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  As the Sabellian was pulling himself back up to his perch, an early arrival walked