Quiet Town Read Free Page B

they had no marshal and were led by a man who had no conception of just how fast and deadly a topgun like Dusty Fog or Mark Counter was. They were in far more danger than they had ever faced.
    “Look, friend,” the miner spoke up; he knew the danger all too well. “You got this all wrong. There was nothing unfair in the shooting.”
    “We’d expect you to say that,” Kennet replied. “You were in the game.”
    Dusty was getting tired of the dudes’ foolishness. He knew he could rely on Mark and the Kid not to do anything rash or foolish. He was almost sure Rusty and Doc were also reliable and would not go off halfcocked. All too well Dusty knew the danger of the situation. If shooting started he would down at least two of the men before they could even think of killing, the other Texans would also be in action before the dudes knew what they were doing.
    “Look, if you want to hold a coroner’s jury we’ll all come and testify,” he suggested, giving the dudes a chance to get out without loss of face.
    Kennet shook his head. “We intend to try you for murder.”
    Dusty shrugged. He had offered the olive branch and the dudes refused it. Now it was on their heads for he would never give up his guns to any man. The dudes must stand or fall on their own decision.
    “You’ll have to take him first,” Mark warned.
    “Hold hard there, all of you!” Mat Gillem was on his feet and crossing the room. “Stan boy, you stop this foolishness afore you get yourself and your friends killed off.”
    Kennet turned to Gillem, surprise showing on his face. Since coming to act as manager of Gillem’s bank he had grown used to the old man’s good sense and to respect his judgment. Gillem’s attitude came as a surprise to him for the banker wanted Quiet Town cleaning up too.
    “We have to make a stand, sir,” he objected. “These killings can’t be allowed to go unpunished.”
    “Son, there was nothing wrong in Cap’n Fog killing that gambler. Baker was cheating and tried to gun Dusty after Moose made a try at knocking Dusty off balance. You go ahead, with this citizen’s arrest foolishness and they’ll be burying at least half of you. There was no murder. Baker died of a case of slow.”
    All too often Kennet had heard that expressive range term. A case of slow. It meant exactly what it said. One of the participants in a corpse-and-cartridge affair was not as fast as the other and paid the penalty for lack of speed.
    The other men with Kennet looked at each other. It was suddenly dawning on them that here it was different from the pampered East with its police to protect them from the consequences of their actions. Back East they had often campaigned against things, and with the fervour of the college students they had so recently been they started to campaign in Quiet Town. One thing they forgot was that although they had been allowed to campaign, in the West a man could do pretty well as he pleased, they could only rely on themselves to carry their campaigns through. In the West a man who wanted to change things was at liberty to do so, just as long as he could back up his play with a fast handled Colt.
    “There is nothing to stop them coming in for a trial then,” Kennet answered. He was still not sure what to make of Gillem’s attitude in squashing this try at taming Quiet Town.
    “Son, this ain’t the East. If you try to take Captain Fog and he wants he can down four of you before you even get your scatters off your arms. The other boys are near as fast and good. You let it drop.”
    Dusty and the other Texans relaxed now. They could guess there would be no more trouble. The old timer appeared to have things well in hand, and was holding the dudes in check.
    “We can’t go on allowing every man who wears a gun to scare us,” Kennet objected. “Or we’ll—.”
    “Son, these aren’t just any men. You start to lift your shotgun off your arm ready to shoot and see.”
    Kennet started to swing his shotgun