Deadwood Gulch by Ralph Compton; John Ames

Author:Ralph Compton; John Ames
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Westerns, Fiction
ISBN: 9780451219862
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2006-11-06T08:00:00+00:00

“Boys,” Dakota Boggs said, “there’s no need to get ice in your boots. We own this territory. Besides, this Texas bounty hunter has no proof. He’s never seen any of you before, and I hired drifters to haze him on the trail up.”

“He’s here, ain’t he?” Charlie Deets demanded.

“And not to pan for color,” Nat Hendry tossed in. “Dakota, just today he killed Ace McGinnis out at Lookout Rock. A damned hard shot to make. That’s two men killed and two more beaten so hard their eyes are crossed.”

Boggs combed his lush mustache with a finger. “Then I guess it’s too bad I can’t get men like Everett to back my play. Hell, I could set up Tammany politics in the sagebrush country.”

“We ain’t in no funnin’ mood,” steamed Ike Bass, the fourth vigilante at the table. “Just now he left Bernie stove up for a week. Can’t even move his head. And I came within a cat whisker of eatin’ lead. Everett might not have all the names yet, but he’ll get them. And he made a point of mentioning his family.”

“He sure’s hell knows you, Dakota,” Deets tossed in. “If I blew a man’s hammer thumb off, he’d be high on the list of my enemies.”

Boggs poured more whiskey into his cup made of black buffalo horn. Nobody had to lower his voice at the Gem. There was a constant din of piano music, voices, and celebration whoops.

“He’s got oysters on him. I’ll give him that,” Dakota said calmly. “But we’ll fix his flint. He won’t last two days in this gulch. Say, Jack McCall was a spineless half-wit, and he got Hickok, didn’t he?”

“Clean your ears,” Ike said. “I just faced Everett. He had plenty of reason to be on the scrap, but I never seen a man rile so cool. Never cursed, never scowled, never even raised his voice. That’s the dangerous type.”

“No mother’s son scares me,” Boggs boasted. “I don’t give a continental damn how many newspapers brag him up. Lead ain’t partial to fame.”

Despite his brave words, Boggs knew what Ike meant. Cas Everett had a dangerous, confident calm about him that would worry any observant man. The money Stone MacGruder paid Dakota was good, but Boggs now realized it wouldn’t be the “easy money” it first seemed.

“Boys,” he said, “nerve up. If we stick together, Everett will never be able to get names. Without names, he’ll do no killing if we don’t provoke him. Killing his people was a private job. I wasn’t fool enough to tell anybody but you three who went with me. And Jimbo, of course, who’d still be alive if he hadn’t returned to that telegraph office in Louisiana to toss lead, the fool. MacGruder danced on air a week ago in Omaha, so he ain’t singing.”

“Jesus, Dakota, the man blew your cocking thumb off,” Ike argued. “Of course he suspects you.”

“Hogwash. That alone is no reason to wipe out a man’s entire family, includin’ three women. Everett has to know that.

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