Outlaw's Daughter by Paul Lederer

Author:Paul Lederer
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781480487376
Publisher: Open Road Media

SEVEN

It didn’t take long for trouble to find Matt. He rode his horse to the Camelback stable, where he had had little luck. Slipping inside, he called out, but no one answered. There was someone there, though; a man he had not expected, but should have.

With his thoughts racing ahead to finding Laura and rescuing Will once more from the outlaws, he met this bump in the road with anger. As Davey Gillette stepped toward him, swaggering, a matchstick in his lips, Matt said coldly:

‘I don’t have time for this, Gillette.’

‘Don’t you? I have plenty of time, Waco – that’s your name, isn’t it? That’s what people are saying.’

‘I told you—’

‘Told me that you don’t have time for me. You had time to beat me up last night when I was doing nothing to you. Well, I was drunk last night, Waco. Now I’m sober.’

‘It’s not much of a pleasure to meet you either way,’ Matt grumbled. ‘Listen, friend, another time, another place. Right now I’ve got things to do.’

‘So have I,’ Gillette said, ‘like teaching you a lesson. I’ve got a lot of friends in this town and I won’t be humiliated in front of them.’

‘None of them saw what you were doing, trying to attack Laura Kennedy.’

‘None of them would care!’ Gillette snapped. He stood before Matt in a bow-legged, balanced stance, his hand near his gun. ‘What’s the difference to you? Laura ain’t much.’

‘Be careful what you say, Gillette,’ Matt warned him.

‘Why? Because Ben Kennedy used to be a big man around here? He’s dead now! Nothing about him troubles me. I’m tired of the brats coming here, thinking that we owe them some sort of special favors because their fathers slung a pistol. Like that woman you dragged in with. Who’s she? Frank Waverly’s daughter? Who cares about Frank Waverly any more, except for a few old-timers? Waverly’s likely an old man now, anyway, locked up, dried out or dying. Who cares about those old-time gunnies?’

‘You should,’ Matt said in an even voice. Gillette eyed him up and down and smiled crookedly.

‘You don’t look like that much to me, Waco. Why are you standing for these women?’

‘That’s the way it’s done,’ Matt said, dropping the reins to his buckskin to free his hand. ‘As you say, I might not be much, not a quick-draw artist or hard-bitten killer. But I’ve got more sand in my craw than a petty little woman-molester like you will ever have.’

Gillette seemed to puff up. His eyes swept the stable as if expecting help. Malt had wondered about that as well. Had he brought his friends with him? Or did he have no friends willing to put their lives on the line for the sake of his dubious reputation?

Gillette had worked himself up in to a fever of vengeful pride. ‘Draw then, you bastard, and I’ll see you in hell!’

To give him his due, Davey Gillette was quick with his gun, but he was none too accurate. The pistol in Gillette’s hand exploded with fire and smoke and the sound racketed through the stable, panicking the horses.

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