Dead Ringer by Louis L'Amour

Author:Louis L'Amour
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2019-01-24T16:12:54+00:00

VIII

Two men crossed the street suddenly. One of them was a man Kedrick had never seen before; the other was the sly-looking loafer he had seen hanging around the back door in the saloon at Yellow Butte. The loafer, a sour-faced man called Singer, was talking. They stopped, and he indicated the buckboard to the man with him. “That’s him, Abe,” Singer was saying, “he’s one of that crowd from across the way. He’s brother-in-law to McLennon.”

“This is a good place to start,” Abe replied shortly, low-voiced. “Let’s go!”

Tom Kedrick turned on his heel and followed them. As they stepped into the door, he stepped after and caught it before it slammed shut. Neither man seemed to be aware of his presence, for they were intent on the man at the counter.

“Hello, Sloan,” Singer said softly. “Meet Abe Mixus.”

The name must have meant something to Sloan, for he turned, his face gray. He held a baby’s bottle that he was in the act of buying in his right hand. His eyes, quick and terror-stricken, went from one to the other. He was frightened, and puzzled, and he seemed to be fighting for self-control. “You in this squabble, Singer? I figured you to be outside of it.”

Singer chuckled. “That’s what I aim for folks to think.”

Mixus, a lean, stooped man with yellow eyeballs and a thin-cheeked face, drew a paper from his pocket. “That’s a quit-claim deed, Sloan,” he said. “You can sign it an’ save yourself trouble.”

Sloan’s eyes went to the deed and seemed to hold there, then, slowly, they lifted. “I can’t do that. My wife’s having a child in the next couple of days. I worked too hard on that place to give it up. I reckon I can’t sign.”

“I say you better.” Mixus’ voice was cold, level. The storekeeper had vanished, and the room was empty save for the three, and for Tom Kedrick, standing in the shadows near some hanging jeans and slickers. “I say you better sign, because you don’t own that prop’ty anyhow. Want to call me a liar?”

Resolution seemed to have overcome Sloan’s immediate fear. He was a brave man, and Kedrick knew that whatever he said now, he would die. He spoke first.

“No, Abe,” he said softly, “I’ll call you a liar.”

Mixus stiffened as if struck. He was a killer, and dangerous, but he was a smart, sure-thing killer, and he had believed himself alone but for Singer. Now somebody was behind him. He stood stock-still, then started to turn. Singer had fallen back against the wall, his eyes starting to locate Kedrick.

“It’s Kedrick,” he said. “The boss gunman.”

Mixus scowled. “What’s the matter?” he said irritably. “What yuh buttin’ in for?”

“There’s to be no more killing, Abe.” Kedrick held his ground. “We’re havin’ a peace conference tomorrow. This killing is over.”

“Got my orders,” Mixus persisted. “You talk to Burwick.” There was a movement from Sloan, and he whirled on him. “You stand still!” he barked.

“You can go, Sloan,” Kedrick said. “Get in your outfit an’ tell McLennon that my word is good.

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