Wyoming Slaughter by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online

Doubtful.”
    â€œDon’t you come near me with that mistletoe, Rusty, or I’ll throw your ass into the cage.”
    But Rusty was just laughing away. “Say,” he said, “Consuelo Bowler’s in town and wants to see you. He’s at the hotel and says he’ll be there all day.”
    Bully Bowler, as he was called, was a big-time rancher south of Doubtful. “Did he say what he wanted?”
    â€œYeah, Cotton, he did. He doesn’t like your plans for New Year’s Eve.”
    â€œSo what’s he gonna do about them?”
    â€œYou better find out yourself, Cotton.”
    Rusty sure was acting nervous. “He was talking about hanging the county supervisors unless that dry law gets repealed real fast. And you know what, Cotton? He meant it.”

C HAPTER S IX
    Bully Bowler was actually the manager of an outlying ranch owned by Britons. His name was honestly earned. He was a massive man, fifty pounds heavier than me, and quick to make full use of his strength. He had massive fists, a thick neck, and a thicker skull. He ruled supreme out at his spread by simply pounding any cowboy who didn’t toe the line.
    Now he was in Doubtful, making noises I didn’t want to hear. I donned my overcoat and hat, and plunged into the icy wind, headed for the Wyoming Hotel. Some said the hotel was the only good place between Laramie and Douglas, with two sheets on every bed and a tablecloth on every table. I wouldn’t have known the difference, and didn’t care. But I cared about Bully Bowler’s threats, and that’s what took me over there.
    Bully never traveled alone, and I found him with four of his skinny cowboys, sitting at a table in the dining room, smoking cigars.
    â€œYou were looking for me?”
    Bully tapped some ashes over the remains of a pancake, smiled, and nodded. He said nothing, making me wait.
    But I didn’t press the man and stood quietly.
    One of Bully’s boys sipped coffee, looking a little smirky.
    â€œWell, I guess I was mistaken,” I said. “Someone told me you wanted to see me.” I turned to leave.
    â€œPickens, stay put,” Bully said, and still offered no explanation.
    I yawned, waited a moment, and started to leave. The hell with it.
    But a massive paw, lightning fast, caught my belt and yanked me back to the table.
    â€œNow, Sheriff, you’ll listen even if you’re wetting your pants.”
    That’s how it went with Bully Bowler. I had heard enough stories to fill a book or two, and none of them flattering.
    Bowler let go of my belt just before I was about to do something about it.
    â€œThe boys are coming into town New Year’s Eve. They’re going to have a fine time. Every ranch hand in the area, three hundred, four hundred, in for a whoop-de-doo.”
    I nodded.
    â€œYou ain’t gonna shut down the place.”
    â€œI’m glad you think so,” I said.
    â€œBecause you won’t want anything bad to happen to your supervisors.”
    I just kept quiet.
    â€œBecause that’s what’s gonna happen.”
    â€œThanks for letting me know, Bowler.”
    â€œI ain’t done with you yet, you little fart.”
    â€œI didn’t think so,” I said.
    â€œThat dry law, it’s going to be repealed. And if it ain’t, you ain’t going to enforce it. That law’s dead as poisoned wolf.”
    â€œYou going to repeal it?”
    â€œI already did.”
    â€œI haven’t seen it published yet. Supervisors do it?”
    â€œPickens, I always heard you’re thick between the ears.”
    â€œIf it’s not repealed, why do you say it is?”
    â€œThat law’s gone away, sonny boy, gone. That’s what I’m telling you. Now beat it.”
    â€œJust your say-so, is it, Bowler?”
    â€œI’m tired of you.”
    â€œGuess I’d better protect you from them Temperance women. You better stop in at my jail and