Wanted Dead Read Free Page A

said the youth uncertainly: “throw down your money and stop mucking about.”
    Wondering intently what it felt like to be shot in the head, Riley continued to draw the sword. His hand was well over his own head before the weapon cleared the scabbard. Still slowly Riley turned the sword up until the point was raised to the sky.
    â€œNow listen, my boy,” he said slowly, his eyes staring gravely into the youth’s. “Unless you put down that pistol of yours I’m going to split your head open right down to your neck.”
    The youth stared at him incredulously.
    â€œI’ll bloody well shoot you,” he said angrily.
    â€œGo on then,” said Riley, very slowly and quietlyso that the youth had to strain to hear him. “But if you miss, or if you don’t kill me, I’m going to smash this sword right down through that skull of yours so that your brains spill out all over the ground.
    The youth edged his mount back a step.
    â€œPut that thing down or I’ll shoot,” he said, but his mouth was loose on one side and the other seemed to have attached itself to the bottom of his nose as though in a sniffle perpetually suspended.
    â€œYou throw your money down quick,” he said again, but now he was speaking in the sulky tones of a child whose friends are not playing the game according to the rules.
    Riley sat quite still on his horse, the sword held high over his head. His arm was beginning to ache intolerably and although he suspected that this youth did not have the immense determination it needed to kill a man, he knew that panic could well make him pull the trigger—pull it before he had to admit to himself what he was doing.
    The two of them sat their horses, staring into each other’s faces. Riley was aware of that silence that becomes noticeable only when it is about to end, and suddenly the bush began to reverberate once more with the regular buzz of the cicadas.
    How did they all know when to start at the same time wondered Riley unreasonably, then thrust the absurd thought aside as he strove to glare steadily at the youth.
    The youth seemed to be trying to think of something to say now.
    â€œI wonder how many times that gun of yours has misfired,” said Riley quietly.
    The youth extended the pistol further towards Riley and turned his head slightly to one side.
    â€œYou pull that trigger,” said Riley, “and you’ve got just one chance in ten of not dying suddenly and messily the next moment.”
    He saw the youth’s throat work convulsively.
    â€œAll right now,” said Riley harshly, “I’ve had enough of this, put that gun down now before I count three or I’m going to cut you in half.”
    The youth’s lower lip was protruding and Riley wondered that a mouth could be so mobile. Nevertheless he felt an uncontrolled shrinking in his own breast as though the flesh was trying to recoil from the crashing blow of a bullet.
    â€œOne,” he said, very quietly.
    He saw the youth’s eyes waver irresolutely, looking into the scrub on either side as though hoping for help from there. He opened his mouth to speak again, but shut it abruptly and stared helplessly at Riley.
    â€œTwo,” said Riley, feeling his arm was about to break. This was the dangerous moment. Unless the youth dropped the pistol now he would have to charge him. But it was all the same anyhow, because he couldn’t hold the sword in the air for more than another five seconds.
    â€œDamn you,” spluttered the youth suddenly, and swung his horse around, lowering his pistol.
    Gratefully Riley dropped the sword, urged his own horse forward, grabbed the youth by the collar and hauled him clear of his horse, letting him fall heavily to the ground.
    Riley slid to the ground himself and took the youth’s pistol before he could recover.
    The youth sat up and looked sullenly at Riley.
    â€œI suppose you’re a bloody trap 2 are