Herne the Hunter 20 by John J. McLaglen

Author:John J. McLaglen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: winchester rifle, colt 45, john harvey, john j mclaglen, herne the hunter, laurence james, jed herne, western frontier fiction, wild west ebook, ultra violent westerns
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Eight

Herne was getting a shave in the barber shop when the marshal strolled in, still whistling.

‘Won’t be a minute, Jim,’ said Ollie Pickens, pausing to flick a blob of lather from Herne’s sideburn with a deft flick of the towel.

‘Don’t rush on my account, Ollie. Ain’t you I come to see.’

Herne eased himself round a little in the chair and almost caused Ollie to nick away a half-inch of his ear lobe. Beneath the white towel that was spread across him, Herne’s fingers slid over the butt of the Colt .45.

Just because the marshal had come in whistling cheerily through his teeth didn’t mean a thing. He’d known a bank-robbin’ bastard one time called Fat Waco James who laughed all the while he was skinning one of his gang who’d crossed him with a hunting knife.

‘Just took a walk up to Miss Delaney’s wagon, figured I’d meet the other girls, say welcome proper. One of ’em, she’s sure taken a beating. Says you hauled off these fellers an’ gave ’em hell.’

‘Did what I could.’

‘Miss Delaney, she says part o’ the reason you’re ridin’ north with ’em is to catch up with the feller as was behind the trouble back there.’

‘Been on his trail for quite a time now. Aim to catch up with him one way or another.’

‘Preacher, ain’t he?’

‘So he says – strangest damn preacher I ever saw.’

‘One you’ve got here in town’s reg’lar as noon an’ night. He ain’t goin’ to be too pleased with a wagonload of soiled doves stoppin’ over but he ain’t about to raise a ruckus about it. Might get the good folk of Banning to pray a mite harder and throw a few more coins in the collection plate, but that’s about all there’ll be to it.’

‘Uh-huh.’

Ollie Porter set Herne’s head back and carefully drew the razor down under his nose and onto the curve of his upper lip, one stroke either side and then a quick dip into the middle.

‘Soon have you done.’

‘Sure. Take your time.’

‘You goin’ to be along there tonight?’ Wickens asked. ‘Just in case there’s any trouble – not that I’m expectin’ none.’

‘May do. Depends what else you got round here to occupy a man.’

The marshal shook his head ruefully. ‘Not a deal goin’ down, as you might say.’

‘You’ll be stoppin’ by yourself, then?’ said Herne.

The marshal nodded a little too enthusiastically. ‘Might do. Might do. In the line of duty.’

‘As you might say,’ grinned Herne, one side of his face still half-covered with lather.

‘As you might say,’ agreed Jim Wickens and raised his hand before stepping out onto the boardwalk and walking back towards his office.

‘Ain’t never heard Jim perky as this all the time he’s been here in Banning,’ said Ollie. ‘An’ that’s more’n seven, eight year.’

‘Maybe Banning never got itself a wagonload like the one that’s waitin’ down the street before?’

Ollie wiped the remaining lather off onto the towel. ‘Can’t be that. Old Jim ain’t got no more interest in women than a gelding in springtime.’

Herne shrugged his shoulders and kept his own counsel; he wasn’t so sure.

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