Travis Read Free Page B

the floor. He made sure he still had his laudanum as he headed unsteadily out of the saloon. Outside, Growler, who had been patiently waiting for him, greeted him with a wag of his stubby tail.
    Travis bent over to pet him and almost lost his balance. “Well, old fella, I reckon we’d better go see how the horses are doing and try to get a little rest. God knows it’s been a long day.”
    He ambled down the dusty street toward the livery stable with the dog keeping the same pace behind him. He heard some shouting and then some shots, paused, decided it was the local law’s job, kept walking. In the distance he heard the train chugging into town.
     
     
    Walking toward the train station with Duke and Slade, Violet turned slightly to see the big Texas Ranger stumble out of the saloon and start down the street. She wondered if he’d make it.
    Duke snapped at her, “What the hell you lookin’ at, Violet?”
    “Nothing.” She turned back around as they walked. “You’ll be back in a week?”
    “I told you that, didn’t I?” he said and made a snide remark to Slade about stupid women.
    Slade laughed. “They’re only good for one thing, Boss.”
    “Well, at least they make me a lot of money, especially this one.” He reached out and familiarly pinched her breast through the low-cut scarlet dress.
    Violet felt her face burn. She was ashamed of working in a saloon, but it was the only life she’d known since she’d been a child on the streets of Memphis.
    A man stepped out from behind a building. Violet looked at him. He was drunk and unsteady on his feet, some poor clod-buster who had come in for the land run. “Hey, you, boss man,” the man yelled and stumbled toward them.
    “He’s drunk, Duke,” she whispered under her breath. “No need of killing him.”
    However, the pair of men with her had already stopped.
    Duke said, “You talking to me, you hick?”
    The red-faced man had a rusty old pistol in his belt and his clothes were faded and ragged. “Yeah, you. I lost all my money at your card table so now I can’t buy supplies to make the run.”
    Duke laughed without mirth. “Farmer, that ain’t my problem. You can’t afford to lose, you should stay away from gambling.”
    People gathered to watch and now Slade had moved around next to the clod-buster as he stopped within a couple of feet of them.
    He was very drunk and had tears running down his face. “You cheap card sharp, you cheated me—”
    “You can’t say that to me!” Duke challenged.
    “Let him go,” Violet whispered under her breath. “He’s drunk, Duke.”
    The diamond horseshoe stickpin on his tie flashed in the sunlight as Duke shook his head. “I’ll overlook it this time. Take that back, clod-buster, and walk away.”
    “I want my money.” The ragged farmer stumbled toward them, very close now.
    She knew it was going to happen, she had seen it before. “No!” she yelled even as the farmer fumbled for his old pistol.
    Slade, standing next to him, knocked the barrel up as the man drew so that the shot went wild and then Duke reached under his fine waistcoat for the Remington derringer he carried and shot the farmer in the heart. The man looked at them with wide eyes, stumbled forward and then fell dead in the street.
    “You seen it!” Duke yelled to the crowd. “The farmer drew first.”
    Everyone nodded and Slade returned to Duke’s side. A curious crowd gathered to look at the body lying in the street as the train chugged into the station behind them.
    “Let’s go,” Duke ordered, shoving the tiny gun back under his fine frock coat, and grabbed Violet by the elbow as they walked. “What the hell you doing shouting out like that? He might have killed me.”
    “That poor clod-buster didn’t have a chance against you and Slade, and you know it.”
    “Hell,” Slade snickered. “Boss, your favorite whore is getting soft.”
    “Aw, she’s just a woman, that’s all.” Duke grinned at her and slapped her bottom