Tinhorn's Daughter by L. Ron Hubbard Read Free Book Online

presumin’ cuss. I thought maybe something would happen to straighten this out. But nothin’ has. He’s got deeds to the right-of-way. He’s bought out everybody at a shameful price and killed them that wouldn’t sell.…”
    â€œPlease.”
    He pivoted to look at her face. “I had ideas. I thought maybe you would think as much of me as I have of you. But I couldn’t expect that. You wouldn’t touch me. You’ve seen me kill men. You know what I am. And no amount of arguing could ever convince you otherwise. I’m not worthy to touch the hem of your skirt. But that’s not sayin’ I won’t take the right to help you.”
    In alarm she could not explain, she said, “What do you mean?”
    He threw more sticks on the flames and they leaped eagerly upward to light the whole room. Sunset stood up. His spurs jingled and his cartridge belts creaked. His right-hand gun was on the level of her eyes.
    She could feel the strength of him.
    Sunset’s voice was quiet. “I tried to tell you that he’s Double-Deck Trotwood. You won’t believe me. Right now, he’s aimin’ to walk out of Puma Pass and leave you helpless and broke. He ain’t goin’ to leave.”
    â€œSunset!”
    â€œHe can take care of himself. I tell you he’s Double-Deck Trotwood, fast as a strikin’ rattler with his shoulder gun. You needn’t worry about the odds.”
    She was on her feet, eyes wide as she tried to find ways to protest. But she was too much afraid of his strength, of the way he stood there.
    Sunset walked to the door. “I’m sorry it had to end this way, ma’am. I wanted it otherwise. But it’s my last card.”
    â€œSunset!”
    He was gone.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Sunset’s Return
    T HE man who said his name was Smith was watching Trotwood. He was too intent to notice the precise moment Bat Connor slid into a seat at his table. He became aware of Bat when Connor helped himself to a drink from Smith’s bottle.
    Smith expressed no surprise. “You’ve been gone quite a while.”
    â€œTwo awful dry months,” said Bat.
    â€œAny reason you come back just now?”
    â€œYou’re full of questions,” said Bat. He drank and then wiped his whiskers with the back of his hand. “Keep yore eyes peeled and you’ll know why I’m back.”
    â€œSunset is in town?”
    â€œYou almost got him killed once, detainin’ me.”
    â€œYou don’t seem to be very scared about getting caught. Everybody knows,” said Smith.
    â€œSure they do.” Bat poured himself another drink but it was never downed.
    Trotwood had been standing at the far end of the bar, talking with a worried and sagging rancher. Money had just changed hands and a deed had just been signed. Trotwood’s hold on Puma Pass was at last complete.
    Others were lined along the mahogany in easy poses but now a ripple of tension ran down the brass-railed length. Man nudged neighbor and all faces were toward the door for one long, appalling instant.
    Sunset had stepped into the big, smoky room. When he was two paces inside he stopped, hands carefully away from his guns, stiff-brimmed hat on the back of his head, flame-colored hair almost in his eyes. Then, even the fringes on his shirt stopped swinging.
    Trotwood faced around and stiffened. He put both feet solidly upon the floor and was motionless.
    With one concerted dive the pathway between them was cleared. A table crashed and then everybody stopped, leaving a space the width of a bowling alley between the two.
    Bat carefully laid his six-gun on the table before him. Smith’s eyes were critical.
    A big clock above the bar ticked with agonizing monotony, loud all out of proportion.
    Sunset’s voice was clear and controlled. “A couple months ago, you wanted to get me pretty bad, Double-Deck. You got your chance now.”
    Trotwood was not