The Dead Man: Kill Them All Read Free

with his huge biceps and skinny Zeke with his knives and his rattlesnake mean. They went back and forth between Molly’s Pussy Parlor and Wally’s Saloon like a pair of trained monkeys. Molly’s for sex, Wally’s for a break and couple of more drinks.
    Another grab at her butt. Sally dodged the groping hand and forced a thin smile. “Want me to refill that pitcher, Hog?”
    “I’d like to fill your pitcher, babe,” Zeke said. “You need to put some time in over to the Pussy Parlor. Hell, I’d pay double.”
    Hog snorted, which was the second source of his unsubtle nickname.
    “Maybe it’s time you boys switched to coffee.”
    “Fuck that, babe. I’d pay triple !”
    Sally slipped by their clutching fingers and walked sideways toward the stranger at the other corner table. Matt Cahill. The guy everyone was calling a hero. Up close, he was a big man, dark haired and muscular. His work shirt and jeans were dusty, and he carried a backpack with a lumberjack’s ax strapped to it along with a small sleeping bag. The stranger had a battered cowboy hat pulled down low over his eyes. It looked like he was catching a nap before hitting the road.
    “Can I get you anything else?”
    Matt looked up. Sally was struck by how handsome he was, in a rough-hewn way. He had careful, intelligent eyes that didn’t undress her. He really focused on her face, as if searching for something. It made her skin ripple and her legs part just a tiny bit. Easy, girl, you’re not in high school anymore.
    Cahill didn’t speak, just smiled and shook his head.
    Sally turned, then jumped back. Now Hog and Zeke were bracing her, blocking her way.
    Uh-oh.
    Over at the bar, Wally raised his head drunkenly. He fumbled to support himself, bleary-eyed, but wasn’t sober enough to intervene.
    “We’re making you an offer,” Zeke said pleasantly. His breath reeked. “A three-way for triple. You can’t refuse.”
    Out of the corner of her eye Sally saw Kyle slowly get to his feet. She silently willed him to stay put. He was a good boy, one of the only decent males left in Dry Wells, and she didn’t want to see him get hurt. Kyle had tried to stand up to Zeke and Hog before. It hadn’t gone so well. Zeke carried a couple of small knives and moved like a cat. Hog had guns like other men’s thighs and could poleax a steer with one of those fists. They liked to hurt people.
    “Easy, boys,” she said. “This may be Friday, and we’ve got cause to celebrate, but it’s way too early for me to have to be calling Sheriff Pickens on you. Hell, you still got the whole weekend ahead. The whorehouse is across the street. This here is just a bar.”
    “For now,” Hog said.
    “That old fart can’t do nothing and you know it, gal,” Zeke said. He moved a step closer, the better to stare down her top at her breasts. He seemed to like it that Sally was now breathing rapidly from fear. “You ever have two big men at once? Might like it.”
    “Let her be,” Kyle said.
    Zeke smiled at the sound of Kyle’s wavering tenor. Sally realized that this was what Zeke had really been after all along. The fight. He and Hog exchanged grins. Zeke nodded, and Hog turned, lumbered over to deal with young Kyle. He picked up a chair, raising it over his head, ready to smash it over the young man’s head. Kyle tried to duck but lost his balance and ended up on his ass on the sawdust floor. Meanwhile, skinny Zeke reached out for Sally with his right hand, intending to grope her breast. Sally took a deep breath to scream, knowing that there was likely nobody around outside, that it probably wouldn’t do her any good.
    The handsome stranger came out of nowhere and grabbed Zeke by the wrist. In a voice low and urgent, he said, “Hey, pal. Take it easy, okay?”
    Hog turned and saw that the stranger was now interfering. Pleased, Hog waddled back their way like a rhino crossing a mud paddy. His fat face was clenched into a huge red fist of excitement.
    Meanwhile, the