Showdown at Gun Hill Read Free Page B

gun.”
    The sheriff stared at him, his hands and face trembling like those of a man with a bad fever. Finally he managed to get himself back under control. He eased down into his desk chair and gripped his shaky hands around the hot coffee mug. Then he raised his hands and swabbed them over his sweaty face. “I don’t know how I ever got in this shape, Ranger,” he said.
    â€œThink about it later,” Sam said. “First thing to do is get yourself out of it.”
    â€œYou’re right,” Stone said humbly. “I’ve got to get myself sobered and cleaned up.” He raised the coffee mug to his lips with both hands and sipped it down carefully. “First thing I’m going to get is a hot bath.”
    Sam only watched and listened, the sheriff sounding a little inauthentic to him.
    â€œIt’s going to take me a while,” Stone continued. “I’ll tell you what, Ranger, why don’t you ride on ahead? I’ll just get cleaned up some and join you along—”
    â€œWe’re ready to ride, Sheriff,” Sam said, cutting him off.
    Again the whiskey flared in Stone’s head. “Damn it, Ranger, I can’t just haul up at the last minute and ride off to Yuma with you! I’ve got to get my horse ready, load my saddlebags—”
    â€œI’ve had two days to prepare,” Sam said. “I boarded my spare horse at the livery. Your horse and mine are ready, standing at the hitch rail. Your saddlebags are packed. The blacksmith is going to serve as deputy while you’re gone.”
    â€œElmore Frazer can’t handle my job,” Stone said. “Law work ain’t like shoeing a horse. A man has to be ready for anything, at all times.”
    Sam gave him a look; Stone’s face reddened in shame.
    â€œThere’s a water hole seven miles out,” Sam said, letting the matter drop. “You can get cleaned up there.”
    The sheriff wrung his shaking hands together, all out of excuses.
    â€œI see you’ve thought of every damn thing, Burrack,”he said with sarcasm. “You going to crack me in the head again if I say I ain’t going?”
    Sam didn’t reply; he only stared, leaving the sheriff’s question hanging between them.
    â€œDamn this all to hell,” Stone growled, pushing himself up from his chair. “I don’t even remember saying I’d go to Yuma with you.”
    â€œThere must be a lot you don’t remember, Sheriff,” Sam said, stepping over and opening the front door for them. “Maybe some of it will come back to you along the trail.”
    Stone reached over and took down his hat and riding duster from a wall peg and put them on. He started toward the door. Then he stopped.
    â€œI need to tell you, Ranger, there might be some saddle tramps wanting to kill me,” he said.
    â€œMight be?” Sam said.
    â€œYeah, there will be. I’m sure of it,” said Stone. “They work for a rancher named Edsel Centrila. Ever heard of him?”
    â€œI’ve heard of him,” Sam said. “Why does he want you killed?”
    â€œHe claims I owe him money,” Stone said.
    â€œDo you?” Sam asked.
    â€œYeah, sort of,” said Stone, getting edgy again just talking about it.
    â€œNobody
sort of
owes somebody money,” Sam said. “Either you do or you don’t.”
    â€œI
do
, then, if you put it that way,” said Stone. “Anyway, we could run into them out there. They could be waiting anywhere along the trail to Yuma.”
    The Ranger gestured him toward the open door.
    â€œI’m glad you told me before we got under way,” he said wryly.
    â€œIt just came back to me. I figured you ought to know,” said Stone. “These gunmen are the Cady brothers, Lyle and Ignacio. They’re dangerous hombres—especially Ignacio.” He walked out the door, across the boardwalk and down to the waiting