Showdown at Gun Hill Read Free Page A

remember much,” he said. His trembling fingers searched all around in the open drawer. “I’ve got to pull myself together . . . get to work.”
    â€œI threw it out, Sheriff,” Sam said. “The drinking’s over.”
    â€œI always have a little bracer this time of morning,” Stone said. “It steadies my hand the whole day.”
    â€œNot this morning, Sheriff,” Sam said. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”
    The sheriff looked at him through bloodshot eyes, his mood turning ugly at the prospect of not having a drink to calm his shakes and tremors.
    â€œThe hell you say,” he replied, straightening. “Who do you think you are, Ranger, coming in here, giving orders, making me look like a fool in my own town—”
    â€œYou’ve been telling townsfolk that you turn into a wolf, Sheriff,” Sam said, cutting him off. “It’s time to get off the whiskey.”
    â€œA
wolf
?” Stone said. That stopped him. “Jesus . . .” He squinted and dug deep for any remembrance of thepast few days. Things were starting to come back to him, but his mind was working slowly, still under the effects of alcohol. He straightened again and ran his trembling fingers back through his graying hair. “So what? Lakota medicine men claim to do that all the time.”
    â€œYou’re not a medicine man,” Sam said flatly. “You’re a lawman. A lawman who’s been drunk a long time. Now it’s time to get sober.”
    â€œDon’t preach,” the sheriff said in a warning tone. He glanced down into the empty drawer again, and an angry look appeared on his face when he still couldn’t find his hidden bottle.
    Sam just watched.
    â€œYou’ve no right coming here sounding off to me, sticking me in a cell, shaming me,” Stone said, needing a drink more and more with every passing minute.
    â€œYou shame yourself, Sheriff,” Sam said. “If I wanted to make you look bad, I’d lead you out of here in handcuffs.”
    â€œLead me out of here?” Stone said. “Lead me where?”
    Sam let out a patient breath. “You’re riding with me to Yuma, to Judge Long’s ranch, remember? We talked about it.” He wasn’t going to mention that when they’d talked about it, Stone had refused to go.
    Stone tried hard to remember. He only managed to pull up parts of the conversation they’d had.
    â€œYeah, sort of,” he said. As he spoke he reached down and felt his Colt in its holster. He looked back up at the Ranger.
    â€œI holstered it for you,” Sam said. “I didn’t want youseen leaving here unarmed either. That would have been as bad as handcuffed.”
    Stone took a deep breath, realizing how tough the Ranger could have played this if he’d had a mind to.
    â€œObliged, Ranger,” he said, trying to calm his shaking hands. “I didn’t mean to get mouthy with you. It was the whiskey talking. It’s been doing my thinking for me lately.”
    â€œI know it,” Sam said. “As long you say you’ve been drunk, it’s going to try to keep doing your thinking for you. You’ve got to leave it in the bottle.”
    â€œI’ll get sober,” Stone said. “Only, it would help to have just one drink—just a shot, enough to get myself untangled—”
    â€œNo drink,” Sam said. “I told you we’ve got a long ride ahead. You’re going to make it there sober.”
    Anger flared again on Stone’s brow. His hand dropped over his gun butt.
    â€œI need a drink bad, Ranger, damn it! You do not want to cross me on this.”
    â€œIt’s not loaded,” Sam said calmly, nodding at the holstered Colt standing beneath the sheriff’s trembling palm. “I didn’t want them seeing you unarmed, but there’s no way I’d trust you with a loaded