Collection 1989 - Long Ride Home (v5.0) Read Free

with his left hand, which also clutched the carpetbag, the Kid took a chance shot under his arm. Several of the riders had dropped from the rig but the others made a solid block that could scarcely be missed.

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    A YELP OF pain sounded behind him and several men sprang from the carriage. Shoving the pistol into his waistband, the Kid swung astride the off lead horse and hauled desperately on the reins. As the carriage slowed he slid from the animal’s back to the street. He scrambled up and ducked into an alley.
    Someone yelled from the carriage as it rattled by, and a dark figure loomed in the alley and shouted a reply, then started for him. The Cactus Kid palmed his six-shooter and fired. The charging man fell on his face and the Kid wheeled and ran.
    He ducked in and out of alleys until he was winded. Then a door showed suddenly, and he tried the knob. Miraculously, it was not locked and he stepped in, closing and barring it behind him. Feeling his way up dark stairs he knew from the faint sounds of tinny music that he was in a building that housed some kind of resort.
    On the second floor landing he tried a door, but it was locked so he went on to the third floor. A door opened into a hallway with doors on either side. Swiftly, the Kid hurried down the hall to the head of another flight of stairs. A beefy man with a red face and a walrus mustache stood there.
    â€œHey!” he demanded roughly. “Who’d you come up with?”
    â€œI came up the back stairs,” the Cactus Kid replied, “and I’m going down the front stairs.”
    â€œYeah?” His eyes traveled over the Kid from the broad hat to the carpetbag. “Yeah? Well, we’ll talk to Bull Run first.”
    â€œWho’s Bull Run?”
    â€œBull Run?” The thug was incredulous. “You ain’t heard of Bull Run Allen?”
    Something turned over inside the Cactus Kid. He had heard many cowhands and others talk of the BULL RUN , at the corner of Pacific Street and Sullivan Alley. It was one of the toughest and most criminal dives in a town that could boast of many of the worst in the world. He could not have found his way into a worse trap.
    â€œNo need to talk to him,” he said. “All I want is to go through. Here—” he took a coin from his pocket—“say nothing to anybody. I had some trouble back in the street. Had to slug a gent.”
    The thug looked avariciously at the money. “Well, I guess it ain’t none of my—” His voice broke and he gulped.
    The Cactus Kid turned and found himself facing an elephant of a man in a snow-white, ruffled shirt with diamond studs. His big nose was a violent red, his huge hands glittered with gems.
    â€œWho’s this?” he demanded harshly. “What’s goin’ on?”
    The thug swallowed. “It’s this way, Bull Run,” he began to explain. As he talked Allen nodded and studied the Kid. Finally he dropped a huge hand to the Kid’s shoulder.
    â€œPut away your money, son,” he said genially, “and come wit’ me. In trouble, are you? Couldn’t have come to a better place. Law doesn’t bother my place. I tell ’em you work for me an’ it’s all right. Let’s go to my office.”
    Seating himself behind a huge desk, he grinned at the Kid. “Cattleman, hey? Used to figure I’d like that line my own self, but I got tied to this joint and couldn’t get away. But I make plenty.”
    He bit the end from a black cigar and leaned forward, his smile fading. “All right, you got away with something good. Just split it down the middle and you can go—and you’ll not be bothered.”
    â€œYou’ve got me wrong, Allen,” the Kid protested. “I’ve nothing of value. They fired me back on the ranch so I figured I’d come to town. Lost all I had, about fifteen bucks, to some gamblers on a boat. I slugged one of them an’ got