seen: the spitting image of Luther Biggs.
âI reckon you'd be one of the Biggs brothers,â Frank said, placing his gunny sack of supplies on the counter.
âYore damn right I am. And you're Frank Morgan. Me and my brothers been trailinâ you for weeks."
âI got the feelinâ somebody was dogginâ my back trail. Never could catch sight of you."
âOur older brother, Billy Jeff, run acrost a man who knowed you. I disremember his name. That don't matter. He said you come out of the war all right and was headinâ up to the northwest. Tole us what kind of hoss you was ridin', and what you looked like now that you was all growed up. But here and now is where your growinâ stops, Morgan."
âTake it outside, boys,â the store owner said. âDon't shoot up my place. Gettinâ supplies out here is hard enough without this crap."
âShet up, ribbon clerk,â Biggs said. Then his eyes widened when the store owner lifted a double-barreled shotgun and eared both hammers back.
âI said take it outside!"
âNow don't git all goosey, mister,â Biggs said. âWe'll take it outside."
âYou do that."
âYou comin', Morgan, or does yeller smell? I think I smell yeller all over you."
âDon't worry about me, Ugly Biggs. You go run along now and get with your brothers, since it appears that none of you have the courage to face me alone."
The storekeeper got himself a good chuckle out of that, and a very dirty look from Biggs.
âDon't you fret none about that, Morgan. I'd take you apart with my bare hands right now, âceptinâ that would displease my brothers. They want a piece of you, too. And what is this ugly crap?"
âYou, Ugly. You're so damn ugly you could make a living frightening little children."
The veins in Biggs's neck bulged in scarcely controlled anger. He cursed, balled his fists, and took a step toward Morgan.
The store owner said, âI'll spread you all over the front part of this store, mister. Now back out of here."
âI'll be right behind you, Ugly,â Morgan told him.
Cursing, Biggs backed out of the store and walked across the street to the saloon.
âYou want to head out the back and get clear of town, mister?â the store owner asked.
âI would if I thought that would do any good,â Frank replied. âBut you can bet they've got the back covered."
âYou can't fight them all!"
âI don't see that I've got a choice in the matter.â Frank patted the sack of supplies on the counter. âI'll be back for these."
âIf you say so."
âI say so.â Frank looked at the shotgun the shopkeeper was holding.
The man smiled and handed it across the counter. âTake it, mister. I don't know you, but I sure don't like that fellow who was bracinâ you."
âThanks. I'll return it in good shape.â Frank stepped to the front door, paused, and then turned around and headed toward the rear of the store. The shopkeeper walked around the counter and closed and locked the front door, hanging up the closed sign.
At the closed back door Frank paused, took a deep breath, and then flung open the door and jumped out, leaping to one side just as soon as his boots hit the ground. A rifle blasted from the open door of the outhouse, and Frank gave the comfort station both barrels of the Greener.
The double blast of buckshot almost tore the shooter in two. The Biggs brother took both loads in the belly and chest and the bloody, suddenly dead mess fell forward, out of the outhouse and into the dirt.
Suddenly, another Biggs brother came into viewâa part of him, at least: his big butt.
That's where Frank shot him, the bullet passing through both cheeks of his rear end.
âOh, Lordy!â he squalled. âI'm hit, boys."
âWhere you hit, Bobby?"
âIn the ass. My ass is on far, boys. It hurts!"
âIn the ass?â another brother yelled. âThat ain't
âI reckon you'd be one of the Biggs brothers,â Frank said, placing his gunny sack of supplies on the counter.
âYore damn right I am. And you're Frank Morgan. Me and my brothers been trailinâ you for weeks."
âI got the feelinâ somebody was dogginâ my back trail. Never could catch sight of you."
âOur older brother, Billy Jeff, run acrost a man who knowed you. I disremember his name. That don't matter. He said you come out of the war all right and was headinâ up to the northwest. Tole us what kind of hoss you was ridin', and what you looked like now that you was all growed up. But here and now is where your growinâ stops, Morgan."
âTake it outside, boys,â the store owner said. âDon't shoot up my place. Gettinâ supplies out here is hard enough without this crap."
âShet up, ribbon clerk,â Biggs said. Then his eyes widened when the store owner lifted a double-barreled shotgun and eared both hammers back.
âI said take it outside!"
âNow don't git all goosey, mister,â Biggs said. âWe'll take it outside."
âYou do that."
âYou comin', Morgan, or does yeller smell? I think I smell yeller all over you."
âDon't worry about me, Ugly Biggs. You go run along now and get with your brothers, since it appears that none of you have the courage to face me alone."
The storekeeper got himself a good chuckle out of that, and a very dirty look from Biggs.
âDon't you fret none about that, Morgan. I'd take you apart with my bare hands right now, âceptinâ that would displease my brothers. They want a piece of you, too. And what is this ugly crap?"
âYou, Ugly. You're so damn ugly you could make a living frightening little children."
The veins in Biggs's neck bulged in scarcely controlled anger. He cursed, balled his fists, and took a step toward Morgan.
The store owner said, âI'll spread you all over the front part of this store, mister. Now back out of here."
âI'll be right behind you, Ugly,â Morgan told him.
Cursing, Biggs backed out of the store and walked across the street to the saloon.
âYou want to head out the back and get clear of town, mister?â the store owner asked.
âI would if I thought that would do any good,â Frank replied. âBut you can bet they've got the back covered."
âYou can't fight them all!"
âI don't see that I've got a choice in the matter.â Frank patted the sack of supplies on the counter. âI'll be back for these."
âIf you say so."
âI say so.â Frank looked at the shotgun the shopkeeper was holding.
The man smiled and handed it across the counter. âTake it, mister. I don't know you, but I sure don't like that fellow who was bracinâ you."
âThanks. I'll return it in good shape.â Frank stepped to the front door, paused, and then turned around and headed toward the rear of the store. The shopkeeper walked around the counter and closed and locked the front door, hanging up the closed sign.
At the closed back door Frank paused, took a deep breath, and then flung open the door and jumped out, leaping to one side just as soon as his boots hit the ground. A rifle blasted from the open door of the outhouse, and Frank gave the comfort station both barrels of the Greener.
The double blast of buckshot almost tore the shooter in two. The Biggs brother took both loads in the belly and chest and the bloody, suddenly dead mess fell forward, out of the outhouse and into the dirt.
Suddenly, another Biggs brother came into viewâa part of him, at least: his big butt.
That's where Frank shot him, the bullet passing through both cheeks of his rear end.
âOh, Lordy!â he squalled. âI'm hit, boys."
âWhere you hit, Bobby?"
âIn the ass. My ass is on far, boys. It hurts!"
âIn the ass?â another brother yelled. âThat ain't
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