The E.R. Slade Western Omnibus No.1 by E.R. Slade

Author:E.R. Slade
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: old west, western ebook, omnibus 4in1, e r slade, western omnibus
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Two

The place went silent. The florid-faced man dropped the noose as though he’d suddenly realized it was burning his fingers. An avenue wide enough to drive a team through opened up as the man in black strode forward.

“Give it here,” he demanded in a voice like a heavy iron tire crunching over broken glass. And when the florid-faced man started to back away, shaking his head slightly, wide-eyed, the intruder on the proceedings roared, “Pick it up and give it to me, Buddy. Now.”

Ben noticed a couple of boys peering furtively through the street door, which was open. They, too, were wide-eyed.

“Marshal ...” Buddy started in a voice suddenly quavery and weak and pleading, all the booming bombast gone. “It was only ...”

Clauson cut him off. “Pick it up.”

Buddy did as he was told and Clauson yanked it out of his hand. Then he looked around at all the rest, none of whom would meet his gaze, and afterward his eye fell speculatively on Ben, and he frowned.

“What’s your angle, kid?” he demanded, moving a step or two closer to take a better look at him.

Ben returned Clauson’s gaze unwaveringly. He’d seen eyes like Clauson’s a few times before, and every time they’d belonged to merciless killers.

“I came in here to buy a hat,” Ben told him, and carefully set the new hat on his head.

Clauson eyed the Big Four Stetson thoughtfully a few seconds, licked his lips; then his eye went to the girl. A look passed across his face that Ben didn’t care for, though the girl was no concern of his.

“Kid, I want you out of town inside of ten minutes.”

“I’ll likely be out in five,” Ben said, still looking Clauson in the eye. “I’ve never found towns run by killers attractive places.”

A muscle in Clauson’s neck tightened, and he took another step toward Ben as though he might have collaring him in mind.

But Ben took a step himself, straight at Clauson. “Excuse me,” he said mildly, and kept going.

At the last moment, Clauson got out of the way.

“Kid, I’d better never see you in my town again,” Clauson said as Ben walked by him.

“You won’t,” Ben said, and stopped to raise an eyebrow at Clauson. “Not while it’s your town.”

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” Clauson demanded.

Ben said no more and as he stepped out into the sunshine and felt the wind on his cheek he thought he was probably more anxious to leave than Clauson was anxious to see him go.

He collected his pony, paid his bill, and rode away. He didn’t look back.

That night he camped on the mountainside above the town near a spring under some stately fir trees. He had not gone too far from town since he was uncertain still what to do about the problem of the supplies he had not acquired. He could go a couple of days, and then he’d have to come up with some grub somewhere. He didn’t know this country very well, but

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