Day of Rage by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.; Johnstone J.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-04-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-three

According to what Della had said earlier about when the outlaws usually showed up, Gilmore was early today. The slightly-built boss outlaw crossed to the bar, seemingly oblivious to the frightened looks that some of the saloon’s other customers gave him as they moved quickly out of his way. John Henry was willing to bet that Gilmore noticed the reactions, though, whether he appeared to or not.

He had a hunch that Billy Ray Gilmore didn’t miss much.

John Henry started to stand up. Bouchard said, “There’s not going to be any gunplay in here, is there?”

“I sure hope not,” John Henry said. “But I reckon nothing in life is guaranteed, is it?”

Bouchard made a face, and his teeth clamped harder on the cigar clenched between them.

John Henry walked toward the bar. People didn’t react quite as skittishly to him as they had toward Gilmore, but they still got out of his way without wasting any time.

As John Henry moved up to the bar next to Gilmore, Meade sidled slowly toward them on the other side of the hardwood. The bartender like looked like he would have rather been just about anywhere else right now.

“What can I get you, Mr. Gilmore?” Meade asked after he swallowed hard.

“It’s a little early in the day for whiskey,” Gilmore replied. “Reckon I’ll just have a beer.”

“Same here,” John Henry said.

Gilmore turned his head to look over at him.

“I don’t recall askin’ you to have a drink with me, Sixkiller.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” John Henry said, “but I thought it might be a good idea if you and I had a talk.”

“I can’t think of anything I’ve got to say to you.”

“Are you sure about that? I have an idea that you and I could do each other some good.”

Gilmore cocked one eyebrow in a surprised, quizzical expression.

“Is that so?” he murmured. “I don’t see how. You killed two of my friends last night.”

“Did you send them after me?” John Henry asked. “Or just not get in their way?”

Meade set the two mugs of beer he had filled on the bar in front of John Henry and Gilmore. He opened his mouth to say, “That’ll be—” then thought better of it, muttering instead, “Oh, the hell with it.”

Gilmore didn’t answer the question John Henry had asked. He picked up his beer and took a sip of it. Then he said, “You’re either a mighty brave man or a damned fool, Sixkiller.”

“You’re not the first person to make that observation. To tell you the truth, the same thought has crossed my mind from time to time.”

“And what did you decide?”

John Henry grinned and said, “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

That brought a grudging chuckle from Gilmore. He said, “Right now let’s say you’re a brave man and reserve judgment on the other. What is it you want from me?”

“Like I said, we can do each other some good.”

“How so?”

“You don’t want to keep losing friends, and I don’t want to have to keep on killing them.

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