Gunslinger Read Free Page B

Talbot.”
    Talbot sat down, scooted the chair closer to the table and leaned forward. “I need someone like you, Jones, and I’m willing to pay top dollar.” He let that sink in before continuing. “When you hear my offer, you won’t be able to turn it down.”
    Desperado studied him through eyes as cold and dark as death. People often wondered how it would feel to stare into those cold eyes over the barrel of a gun and know it was the last sight they’d ever see. “Who do I have to kill?”
    “That’s the beauty of it,” Talbot said, warming to the subject. “You don’t have to kill anyone. Unless you want to,” he added hastily. “I’ll leave that up to you. But we can’t talk here. Come to my office later, where we can discuss my offer in private.” He scraped his chair back. “Enjoy your drink, Jones. I’ll see you in…say, an hour?”
    “Maybe,” Desperado returned, not really anxious to take any job Talbot had to offer but still curious enough to ask, “Can you give me a hint? I want to make sure it’s worth my time.”
    Talbot cast a furtive glance around, as if to satisfy himself that no one was listening, and sat back down. He leaned toward Desperado and said, “There’s a piece of land I want. It’s standing in the way of progress. I’m willing to do anything to own it. That’s where you come in. I want you to help me get it. The job pays five hundred dollars.”
    Desperado whistled softly. “That’s a helluva lot of money, Talbot.”
    Just then a waitress came along and the conversation skidded to an abrupt halt. “I’ll tell you more later,” Talbot said as he doffed his hat and made a hasty exit.
    “More whiskey, Mr. Jones?” the waitress asked as she sidled up beside him.
    He shook his head.
    “Anything else I can do for you? Anything at all?”
    She smelled of cheap whiskey, cheaper perfume and sex, and Desperado grimaced in distaste. He wasn’t that hard up yet, although he hadn’t had a woman in some time.
    “Thanks for the offer, honey,” Desperado drawled, “but I got business elsewhere in an hour. Maybe some other time, when I don’t have to rush.”
    That seemed to placate the woman and she strutted off, hips swaying provocatively. Desperado nursed his drink for another hour, trying to decide whether or not his curiosity was strong enough to warrant a visit to Calvin Talbot’s office. His curiosity might not be strong enough but the money sure was a powerful inducement.
    He’d hired out his gun for a helluva lot less in the past, to men who expected more of him than Talbot. He usually turned down jobs involving outright killings. A gunslinger had to set his own rules, and Desperado refused to do cold-blooded murder. His high principles had kept him out of jail, except for short stints for minor infringements, and he wasn’t going to change his policy now.
    Desperado was still thinking when he saw a man wearing a badge enter the saloon. The man spotted Desperado immediately and wended his way around tables until he stood beside Desperado’s table.
    “I’m Marshal Townsend,” he said. “It’s my duty to keep peace in this town.”
    “Have I done anything to cause trouble?” Desperado rasped in his mean-as-hell voice. In his opinion Townsend had coward written all over him.
    Townsend stepped back a pace. “There was that shoot-out in the street,” the marshal began. “We don’t cotton to shoot-outs in Trouble Creek.”
    “You’re talking to the wrong person. I was merely defending myself.” He inched his hand toward his gun butt and wondered how long Townsend would flaunt his authority before turning tail and running. Silently he started counting to ten.
    On the count of three, Townsend backed away, saying, “This is just a warning, Jones, no harm done. But it’s my duty to tell you that if you intend to remain in town you’d best keep your nose clean.” Before Desperado could answer, Townsend backed all the way to the door, then made a hasty