Kill or Die Read Free

lucky,” Flintlock said.
    â€œNo, you didn’t. The word in the swamp is that Brewster Ritter plans to hang you first chance he gets. Or throw you to his monster.”
    â€œMonster?”
    â€œI spoke to Maggie Heron, a Cajun swamp witch and—”
    â€œHow the hell do you know her?” Flintlock said, moving around the bacon with his knife.
    â€œI know a lot of people, Sammy. You’d be surprised. I’m half Injun, remember.”
    â€œWhat’s that got to do with it?” Flintlock said, irritated.
    â€œIndians know stuff that white folks don’t. May I finish?”
    â€œYeah, go ahead. You spoke to a swamp witch, whatever the hell that is, and . . .”
    â€œAnd she told me that Ritter plans to drain bayous and swamps this side of the Sabine and start a logging operation. There’s big money at stake and Maggie says Ritter has a monster with huge staring eyes under his control and it has already killed seven people and driven others out.”
    â€œSeems like a big windy to me,” Flintlock said.
    â€œSeven people burned to cinders is real enough,” O’Hara said.
    â€œWhat about the law?” Flintlock said.
    â€œIn Louisiana they call Ritter the Baron of the Bayous. He is the law in the swamps and his hired guns enforce it.” Suddenly O’Hara threw down his cup, rose to his feet and vanished into the darkness.
    Flintlock shook his head. O’Hara was as good as Barnabas at disappearing. But a few minutes later, as Flintlock chewed on the last of his bacon, the reason for the breed’s flight became clear.
    Two men wearing dusters and carrying Greeners stepped out of the night. The muzzles of one of the shotguns shoved against the middle of Flintlock’s forehead and its owner said, “Even blink, mister, and I’ll scatter your brains.”
    The other man said, “He ain’t too bright, is he, Harry?”
    â€œI’d say a man who commits murder, leaves a clear trail and builds a fire in the middle of a swamp has a lot to learn,” Harry said.
    â€œI didn’t murder anybody,” Flintlock said. “And get that damned scattergun out of my face before I shove it up your ass.”
    â€œSure, buddy,” Harry said. He reversed the shotgun and slammed the butt into the side of Flintlock’s head. For a moment Flintlock felt pain and then the ground rushed up to meet him and he felt nothing at all.

CHAPTER THREE
    â€œCypress, Mr. Luke,” banker Mathias Cobb said. “Dare I say that that very soon it will be the root of wealth, both yours and mine?”
    â€œIndeed you may, sir,” Simon Luke said. “I intend to inform Mr. Ritter that I will buy all the cypress lumber he can sell me. It’s in great demand for our great nation’s burgeoning shipbuilding and construction industries and prices have never been higher.”
    Cobb touched a forefinger to the side of his nose. “A word to the wise, Mr. Luke. I have considerable capital invested in this venture and I’ve begun to doubt Mr. Ritter’s methods.”
    A freight wagon, piled high with beer barrels, rumbled noisily past Cobb’s office window and he was silent until it moved on and then said, “He’s talking about draining the swamp to force out the inhabitants. An impossibility, I say. And he’s putting a lot of faith in his damned flying balloon. There’s only one method of dealing with the lower classes, talk to them in a language they understand. Use the whip, the sap and the billy club and, yes, the gun if necessary and send them on their merry way to whatever hell they choose.” He looked at the tall, angular man who had his back against the wall by the door. “What’s your opinion on that, Mr. Lilly?”
    Sebastian Lilly, a skilled pistol fighter out of the Arizona Territory, said, “Ritter would need to drain all of east Texas and the entire state of Louisiana.