Brother Gun by Jack Slade

Author:Jack Slade
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Chapter Ten

In Hopnatcher’s Saloon the rumors were thick as the tobacco smoke that hung like blue-gray fog among the rafters. Men were draped over the barlip, talking excitedly about the daring jailbreak up at the county seat. A party of U.S. Marshals was on the way south to join the hunt for the killer, Juan Aleman, and the man known only as Lassiter. Authorities blamed the jailbreak on the incompetence of the Banner County Sheriff. Another rumor had it that the Cavalry was moving into that part of the territory. Someone said he’d heard that the territorial governor was borrowing a company of Texas Rangers.

Charlie Ryerson lumbered into the saloon, muddied and angered. “Bastards got clear away,” he answered the many questioners who ringed him. “Chased ‘em half the night. Then I gave up. I hear they found the sheriff.”

“Found him dead, I reckon,” a man said as more men crowded around the rancher who had just finished the long ride from Brightwater.

“Found him alive,” Ryerson admitted.

A barkeep set out Ryerson’s private bottle.

Hopnatcher, wearing his green eyeshade, said, “When we first heard about it everybody claimed Lassiter would kill Lambert sure.”

“Well, he didn’t. Which surprised me, to tell the truth.” Ryerson poured himself a drink. His hand shook. He was practically out on his feet. He’d ridden with the posse for a few hours, then headed back to the county seat for a little rest before heading south. “And with Lassiter’s rep,” he continued sourly, “I am surprised. He’s one tough son-of-a-bitch. Nobody made a move when he came out of that cell with the Mex. ’Course Lassiter had a sawed-off shotgun. But even so…” Ryerson noticed Chick Kelleray down the bar, thumbs hooked in a shellbelt, hat on the back of his head, wearing that cocky grin. A grin Ryerson despised.

“Mr. Ryerson, you gonna put up a re-ward for Juanito Aleman?” Kelleray drawled. Everyone looked around.

Ryerson didn’t bother to reply to Kelleray’s question. He tossed off his drink and told everyone he was going home and sleep around the clock. Kelleray followed him outside.

“You sure oughta put up a re-ward.”

Ryerson turned his head. “Bring him in and I’ll pay a thousand dollars. But you’ll never earn it. You’re too lazy.”

“Maybe I’d rather have a job again at XR as my re-ward.”

Ryerson was about to put his foot in the stirrup of his weary horse. A flicker of warning caused him to place both feet on the ground. “Forty dollars a month instead of a thousand in cash? Why?”

“You could make me segundo. One step short of bein’ foreman. That could come a little later.” Kelleray leaned close, that smirk pasted on his lips. “When I’m in the family, that is.”

“I’ll have some of my men take a sledgehammer to your kneecaps. You’ll never walk again without crutches.”

“I wouldn’t do that, sir.”

Ryerson narrowed his eyes. “You threatening me?”

“You murdered a couple of settlers some years back. How’s that gonna set with folks around here who figure you’re second cousin to God.

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