Blood-Stock! (A Breed Western #09) by James A. Muir

Author:James A. Muir
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: elmore leonard, louis lamour, piccadilly publishing, piccadilly cowboys, westerns ebooks, piccadilly publishing westerns, william johnstone, ralph compton
Publisher: Piccadilly

Shelby was not pleased to see him.

The doctor’s face was a mess of bruises, and he moved bent over. Like a man badly hurt around the sides and belly.

‘What happened?’ Azul stepped into the house before Shelby got a chance to close the door. ‘Who beat you up?’

Shelby winced through the spread of his swollen lips.

‘Dan Fogarty. Who the hell d’you think? Him an’ his hired guns.’

‘He’s two short now,’ Azul grinned. ‘I guess it was you told them about me?’

Shelby nodded. ‘I wasn’t left much choice. Who’d you kill? Bulmer an’ Hook?’

Azul nodded.

‘Thought they hadn’t been around much lately,’ said Shelby. ‘But you still got Cyrus Rack to handle. He’s meaner’n the other two set together.’

‘When the time comes.’ Azul left the sentence open, floating.

Shelby looked at him. ‘Yeah. I even believe you could. Meanwhile, what the hell you want? If Fogarty hears you’ve been to see me, I’m in a whole lotta fresh trouble.’

‘Your problem,’ grunted Azul; succinctly. ‘I need morphine.’

‘For Jody?’ Shelby got a look of professional concern over the raw fear on his face. ‘If he ain’t pulled through by now, he’s dead.’

‘No.’ Azul shook his head. ‘He might live if he gets morphine.’

‘I don’t have that much.’ Shelby poured himself a drink. Tossed it down in one fast swallow, and filled his glass a second time. ‘Besides, if Fogarty heard I sold you the stuff I’d be in real trouble.’

Azul smiled. It was a cold and lonely smile. It accentuated the bleak planes of his face, emphasizing his Apache heritage, and transforming his features into an ugly, menacing mask.

Shelby downed his second drink and went pale. He put the glass on the table and stepped over to his cabinet. ‘Morphine! Right. You know how much?’

‘Enough to take a man through an operation.’ Azul banked on fear to control the doctor’s supply. ‘Allow for a little more. And give me the right amounts or I’ll come back and kill you.’

Shelby licked his lips. Sweat broke out on his forehead and began to trickle over the bruises around his cheeks and mouth. He unlocked the cabinet and produced two bottles of clear fluid. Then he found a hypodermic syringe in a leather case, and set the whole bundle on the table. ‘Make sure you wash the needle.’ He tapped the case. ‘There’s a spare inside. Need washing before it’s used, too. Do it in boiling water, then use alcohol.’

‘Come and show me,’ Azul said. ‘You’re the doctor.’

Shelby shook his head: ‘Only so long as I stay alive. If Fogarty knew I was helping you, he’d have me killed.’

‘You’re that afraid?’ Azul asked. ‘You let him run this town?’

‘He owns it,’ said Shelby. ‘Grants from the government have made him the biggest cattleman around. He owns Mengers like most people own a horse. Jesus! Poor old Johnny Mengers don’t own a pocket of his own. He couldn’t pull a sock on without checking his pockets first, in case Fogarty left a message there.’

‘He’s still the law,’ Azul said. ‘Why don’t he call in a U.

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