Borrowed Guns by J. D. McCall

Author:J. D. McCall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: old west, kansas, historical mystery, classic western, frontier fiction, traditional western, sundown press
Publisher: Prairie Rose Publications

DON'T FORGET THE

Arbuckles

IN THE MORNING

IN THE 2 POUND TIN

"I'll have to remember that. I know someone who may need a big pot come early tomorrow," he said, grinning to himself.

Chapter 3

"You headin' back down to the Longhorn to take a bath?"

"I don't think so," Taggart said, throwing his scraps to the dogs. "I know the hot water would be good for the hitch in my gait, but it's a long walk back, and I'm not sure I want to make the trip. I was hoping I could take advantage of your shower, if you wouldn't mind."

"That's not somethin' I expected to hear out of you, but you know you don't have to ask. You're welcome to anything I have."

"I know. All the same, I'm grateful. And friend, we'll get this mess put out to pasture. I promise."

Still feeling right chipper, McKinney made his way to the jail's corral and curried both his and the marshal's horse while Taggart went to clean up. Then, as quickly as the small slug of alcohol he'd had turned him giddy, the sheriff's metabolism burnt through it equally fast, leaving him downcast and gloomy long before he'd finished deciding what he was going to pack in his saddlebags for their journey tomorrow. The fall was swift and caught him off-guard, but despite the sudden downturn in his spirits, there were moments later on in the midst of his preparations when his feistier side would rise up inside him. When such a moment took hold, he became determined to march right into Oxford and clear his name, convinced Taggart was right, that this might be a simple matter to set straight. Then just as spontaneously, the pessimistic side of his nature would slip up behind and get the drop on him, and he could picture himself sitting in Barton's jail, waiting to be hauled back to Wichita to stand trial.

The tussle for control of McKinney's mood was obvious to the marshal, who kept a quiet eye on his friend while making his own preparations. It seemed to him at times, McKinney was sharply focused and as whipped up as a Kansas dust devil, only to look at him later and wonder if he was waist deep in molasses. It was part and parcel of the marshal's nature to want to jump right in to help his friend deal with his turmoil, but he knew for now he could be of little more comfort. There were those times when McKinney seemed anxious to share his problems and ask for advice, and other times when he would sit and brood rather than burden his friend with his thoughts. As much as he wanted to help, Taggart understood at least for tonight, the sheriff would buck-up in his own way. He had said his piece to him and made his promise earlier. Come morning, he would be there if McKinney wanted to unload.

"John, I'm planning on us getting an early start in the morning."

"Since when is that any different

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