The Forbidden Read Free Page B

realizing he’d been better off leaving alone. Eddie was ready for a fight, standing tense, his right hand hovering over the butt of his pistol.
    â€œI won’t stand for this,” the old marshal protested.
    â€œShut up,” Eddie told him.
    Frank stood silent and waiting and ready.
    â€œCome on, Morgan!” Eddie shouted. “Let’s see how good you are.”
    â€œIt’s your play, boy,” Frank told him. “I won’t start this.”
    â€œYellow!” Eddie said. “That’s what you are. Just plain yellow.”
    Frank stood silent.
    â€œDrag iron!” Eddie yelled.
    Frank didn’t make a move.
    â€œDamn you!” Eddie shouted. “Draw on me.”
    â€œYou’ve got to start it, boy,” Frank said softly.
    â€œThis is the man you clodhoppers hired?” Eddie said. “He’s a coward. Just like the rest of you pig farmers.”
    â€œYou got it all wrong, cowboy,” a man said. “We didn’t hire Morgan.”
    â€œYou’re a damn liar!” Eddie snapped. “Why else would a man like him come to this nothin’ town?”
    â€œJust passing through, Eddie,” Frank told him.
    â€œLiar! You’re all damn liars. Every one of you.”
    Eddie had worked himself into a killing rage. Nothing was going to stop him now. Tom had backed up, out of the line of fire. He was holding his hand away from his gun.
    Frank waited. He was not going to pull on Eddie. Eddie would have to start this deadly showdown.
    â€œDamn you, Morgan!” Eddie yelled. “I’ll make you hook and draw.” His hand closed around the butt of his pistol. “Now, you coward! Pull iron!”
    Frank shot him, drawing and firing in one fast and smooth movement. The .45-caliber slug hit Eddie in the center of his chest. His feet flew out from under him and he stretched out on the floor, his right hand still gripping the butt of his six-gun. He had just cleared leather when Frank’s bullet knocked him down.
    â€œGood Lord!” Tom said, his voice awe-filled at Frank’s lightning speed.
    â€œMorgan was so fast I didn’t even see him draw,” a farmer said in a hushed tone.
    Carl was shaking his head. “Don’t shoot me, Morgan! I ain’t gonna draw on you. I’m out of this.”
    â€œSuits me,” Frank replied. “I didn’t want any of this.”
    Eddie groaned in shock and pain.
    â€œI’ll go fetch the doctor,” the old marshal said, heading for the batwings.
    Tom knelt down beside the fallen Snake rider. But he had seen many gunshot wounds in his time, and knew there was nothing the doctor would be able to do. Eddie was near death and fading fast.
    â€œDid I get him?” Eddie asked.
    â€œAre you kiddin’?” Tom said.
    â€œI got him, didn’t I?” Eddie asked.
    â€œEddie, you just barely got your gun out of leather. Now lay quiet until the doc gets here.”
    â€œIt’s really beginnin’ to hurt, Tom. I’m hard hit, ain’t I?”
    â€œYes, you are, Eddie. I ain’t gonna lie to you.”
    â€œI done messed up bad, didn’t I?”
    â€œI reckon you did.”
    Frank had holstered his Peacemaker and was leaning up against the bar.
    â€œIt always happens, don’t it, Frank?” Chubby said. “Folks just won’t leave you alone, will they?”
    â€œSeems that way, Chub.”
    â€œYou want another whiskey?”
    â€œHow about some coffee?”
    â€œComin’ right up.”
    Tom looked up from the dying young Snake rider. “All hell’s gonna break loose because of this, Morgan.”
    â€œI didn’t start it,” Frank replied.
    â€œThat don’t make no difference. Nobody kills a Snake rider and walks scot-free away from it.”
    â€œI don’t intend to walk away. I intend to ride away.”
    â€œThen you better saddle up and get out right now,