Part Three.
Blair took a
seat on the sidewalk in front of the Potter’s General Store and watched the
gathering. By late afternoon, the
news about the Regulators had circulated around the town and the “good” citizens
had begun to arrive at the office of the Clarion.
He could already hear the raised voices as they expressed their dislike
for the fact that common hired guns had been recruited to protect their town.
Mary Travis could be heard reassuring them that she had contacted her father in
law, and that Marshal Ellison would be taking over.
How wrong
one woman could be, Blair mused. From his vantage point he watched JD and Vin
finish their patrol and head back towards the jail. He had seen Ezra disappear
into the bathhouse followed by Buck and Jim and Chris had arrived at the jail
around the same time.
It was then
that Blair saw another man moving towards the bathhouse.
The young academic frowned; he knew that face, even if it was marred by
heavy bruising. Slowly, he got to
his feet and began to follow the man. Blair pulled back as the man came back out
almost immediately. It was only as he stepped out from under the porch and his
face was caught by the sunlight that Blair recognised him as one of the bounty
hunters from Blue Creek. It was the one that had dragged Vin off his horse, and
got a knee in the face for his troubles.
Damn, he was
going to have to tell Jim straight away, there was no way they could risk the
man making a move on Vin or, even worse, making his knowledge public. The news
that one of the Regulators was a wanted man would blow their plans to hell and
back.
0-0-0-0-0
Jail
JD was
standing up, pointing at Vin and waving a poster when Blair came in.
“For God’s
sake, Marshal, he’s a wanted killer!
I should arrest him, not work with him; I swore to uphold the law, I-”
“Can’t do
that if you’re dead.” Chris put in levelly, as he lit one of his cheroots.
Jim looked
up to the heavens for guidance; Larabee had become almost human that morning,
hell he had even seen the man smile at something Vin had said, then the kid had
to find the poster. The gunman would
protect what he saw as his pack and especially his younger soul mate.
“I am the
Sheriff here,” JD snapped back. It was like seeing a kitten standing up to a
mountain lion, and the outcome was going to be just as one sided.
But before JD could become a bloody smear on the floor, Jim’s fist came
down hard on the table. “Everyone
shut the hell up; JD, take a seat, you’re not arresting Vin.”
He dug out the paper and handed it to the young Sheriff.
“The signature belongs to Judge Orin Travis.”
JD read
through the paper, and then looked back at Vin.
“You’re innocent.”
There was a
question in that simple statement. “I never killed Jess Kincaid, a man called
Eli Joe framed me for that, to stop me tracking him down. The judge is going to
help me, if I work for him.”
JD handed
the paper back to Jim, then went over to Vin, and put his hand out.
They shook, then the young Sheriff threw the poster into the pot belly
stove, watching for a moment as the flames consumed it.
As he turned back, JD saw the small nod he got from Larabee and allowed
himself a smile as he saw that gesture of approval.
“Well, what
are the good townspeople up to, Darwin?”
Blair smiled
at one of the many nicknames his Sentinel had for him, then he became serious.
“Mary Travis is holding a meeting with the Town Council about law and order,
and,” Blair hesitated, and then shrugged.
Now that JD knew the truth he might as well come out and say it. “One of
the bounty hunters from Blue Creek is here, so I would watch yourself, Vin.”
“Murphy.”
Vin’s blue eyes became hard.
“The other
guy.”
Vin Tanner
started towards the door.
“Vin,” Chris
put in sharply, his hand coming up to block his friend from leaving.
“You know
what they did to me,” Vin spat.
Chris
nodded; in the bond there was no secrets, and both he and Ezra had lived through
the horror along with the young tracker when they had joined together in the
bond. “They will pay.”
The hatred in those three words made it not a promise but a vow.
Vin accepted
the word of his Alpha, that when the time came the pack would hunt.
“Where did
you see him, Sandburg?” Jim asked.
“He went
into the bathhouse, but he didn’t stay long, he came out almost straight away
and he appeared to be in a hurry.
“Did you see
him leave town?” Chris asked.
“No, but
why-” Blair kicked himself mentally.
He should have realised that the man had yet to be accounted for.
“Then he’s
still here until we know different, and I want to know why.
You agree, Ellison?” Chris looked towards Jim.
“Yeah, after
all they collected on Vin at Blue Creek, and the Judge isn’t going to pay out
for him twice, so it has to be personal.” Jim watched the interaction between
the two friends, and then he remembered the sour scent on the younger man, and
in that instant he knew. “When the time comes Vin, I’ll help you bury that
filth.” It was more than the promise of a lawman; it was the promise of a
Sentinel to another of his kind.
0-0-0-0-0
Late Evening
Josiah
Sanchez had returned back to Four Corners and had gone for a drink.
He was the nearest thing the town had to a preacher. As a man of god he
was strictly Old Testament; usually quite even tempered, but get him drunk and
his own personal demons came out and he could tear the Saloon apart.
His gaze at
the moment was fixed on a young man in a red coat, playing low stakes poker.
There was no mistaking that he was a professional gambler. Josiah’s gaze
slid past him to a group of men at a far corner table. A couple of the men he
recognised as cowhands from Guy Royal’s ranch; the others where new, but the one
thing they had in common was that they were all drunk.
Josiah was
beginning to get an uneasy feeling about the way they were watching the gambler,
and it had nothing to do with the small poker game he was playing with the twin
brothers that owned the Livery Stable, Tiny and Yosemite Howard.
One of the cowhands got up and walked over to the piano; the instrument
was heavily scarred by cigarette burns and the odd bullet hole, but it still
worked. Sitting down with a grin at the gambler, he began to hammer out an old
marching song.
Bring
the good old bugle, boys, we'll sing another song
Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along
Sing it as we used to sing it, 50,000 strong
While we were marching through Georgia.
Hurrah!
Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea
While we were marching through Georgia.
Josiah saw
the tension in the young man’s body as the singer was now joined by the other
men, as they banged their glasses on the table in time with the tune.
Yes and there were Union men who
wept with joyful tears,
When they saw the honored flag they had not seen for years;
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers,
While we were marching through Georgia.
Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the
jubilee!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea
While we were marching through Georgia.
"Sherman's
dashing Yankee boys will never make the coast!"
So the saucy rebels said and 'twas a handsome boast
Had they not forgot, alas! to reckon with the Host
While we were marching through Georgia.
The gambler
drained his drink, made his apologies to the brothers, raked in his money and
then collected his cards. He got to
his feet, yet as he left found his way blocked.
“You know
the words, Johnny Reb, sing them.” Tom Cutler was right in Ezra’s face, as he
sang the words of the chorus, in his loud, off-key voice.
Hurrah!
Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea
While we were marching through Georgia.
“What’s the
matter, don’t you like the song, Johnny Reb?”
Cutler pushed Ezra back against his men. “Sing, Reb,
sing.”
So we made a
thoroughfare for freedom and her train,
Sixty miles of latitude, three hundred to the main;
Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain
While we were marching through Georgia.
Ezra swung round fast before they got a chance to hold him
and he lashed out, planting his fist into Cutler’s face, putting the man down
hard. There was no way that Ezra was going to win, but he got in a couple of
hard knocks before a hefty blow knocked him across one of the poker tables and
he crashed down onto the floor.
As one of the men headed straight for the gambler even as
he tried to pull himself up, Josiah stuck out a leg and the would-be attacker
went sprawling onto the floor.
Whatever the man was going to say was forgotten when, from
his position on his back, a big foot planted in the middle of his chest.
He found himself looking up as the Preacher casually cleaned his nails
with a Bowie knife, looking down at him.
It was at the same time as he and the rest of the room heard the very
distinct sound of a Winchester being cocked. Stood just inside the door was Vin
Tanner. The look in those cold, blue eyes sobered the men up. Vin’s finger
tightened on the trigger as he recognised Tom Cutler, even as Cutler escaped
through the back of the saloon. Every fiber of his body was telling Vin to run,
to track him down and kill him. But his first loyalty was to his guide. Ezra was
getting unsteadily to his feet. Slowly he turned. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Josiah Sanchez.”
“Ezra Standish.”
The southerner put his hand out and it was engulfed in the large hand of
the preacher.
“Let me help you with these music lovers, Brother Ezra,”
the big man’s voice rumbled pleasantly. He had heard about the Regulators and
was intrigued by them. His gaze moved from the tracker to the gambler and a
knowing smile touched his lips; he had lived with the Indians and had seen
Guardians and Shamans during his time with them. The gambler might not be a
Shaman, but he had the touch of a protector, and the tracker?
A Guardian if he had ever seen one. He reached out and hauled Standish’s
would-be attacker to his feet and frog marched him behind the others with a
tight grip on the man’s jacket.
“Ez?”
“Fine, Mr Tanner, there is no need for our-” Ezra didn’t
get chance to finish what he was going to say when he saw Buck appear throught
the front door of the boarding house, in just his union suit and gunbelt, just
as Chris was already halfway across
the street, heading for the saloon.
“Oh, hell and damnations,” Ez breathed.
“EZ?” Chris’s voice was icy, but the young gambler knew
that it was concern that fueled the anger. The older Sentinel’s eyes were
stripping him as the senses wrapped around him, hunting for injuries.
“I am alright, Mr Larabee.”
“Later, Ezra.”
The words sent a shiver down the gambler’s back.
Looking towards Vin, Ezra knew that he had no escape
there; he could see the same concern in the blue eyes of the younger Sentinel
and he knew what that meant. It was going to be one hell of a night. Then the
green eyes lit with pure devilment, and the cocky smile was back on the face of
Ezra Standish.
Josiah had seen the exchange and the breath had caught in
his throat; this was more than he could ever have expected.
The town was truly blessed to have its security placed in the hands of
two sentienls and a guide. Those drunk cowboys had no idea how lucky they had
been; if Standish had been hurt, then he was sure that they would not have
walked out of the saloon in one piece.
Tiny and
Yosemite Hughes had watched the fight in the saloon, but before they could get
to their feet, Josiah had stepped in and taken charge.
Yosemite
suddenly caught his brother’s arm and tugged him back, his eyes resting on Vin
Tanner. This was the first time that
they had seen the tracker; when he had come to the Livery, Old Larry had taken
care of his horse. Seeing the Texan was focused on what was going on, they
quickly left the Saloon. Once outside, Tiny, the youngest of the twins by some
three minutes, blurted out:
“Do you
think he remembered us?”
“We’re still
alive, Tiny, so I take it he didn’t.”
“But for how
long, you know what he’s like, and he’s one of those damn regulators so it’s not
like he’s going to be leaving town any time soon.”
“We’re just
going to have to to make sure he does.”
“Can’t we
just make our peace with him?”
Yosemite’s
laugh was hard and bitter. “Tanner?
You have got to be joking.”
“I, err,
thought we could make our peace with him.” When he saw the look on his brother’s
face, Tiny’s anger grew. “We didn’t
do anything wrong.”
“Yeah,
you’re half right, we didn’t nothing until it was too late.”
Together
they walked towards their homes, each lost in the past.
Only to be
suddenly pulled back to the present by a voice from behind them.
“I think,
gentlemen, that we should talk.” Murphy stepped out of the dark.
The Jail
Blair had to
muffle a laugh as he watched the gambler turn towards Jim, asking if he could
check him over because of the fight.
The logic behind the request was that the Jim had some medical knowledge, and
had treated Vin.
Blair had
seen the two men lock eyes, and Blair had seen the green eyes of the gambler
seem to ignite with a fire. Blair swore suddenly’ and caught Jim’s hand even as
it was raised. Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the sound of a
Colt being cocked, and then a Winchester. Vin and Chris where bristling; Blair
could feel an energy igniting in the jail making the hair on the back of his
neck rise. The need to bond was vibrating through the air, and whereas Blair has
been taught to defuse it, the Southerner had fanned the flames of it, using Jim
to increase it. Blair’s own anger
built at that. He would have words with his fellow guide.
Ezra had edged round the side of the desk and was weighing up his
options; the front door of the jail was closest, but more public, and for what
was going to happen he didn’t want an audience. Ezra went for the back door,
Blair stuck a foot out. Payback
time. The gambler went flying
straight into Josiah; the preacher caught him, and gave him a push back the way
he had come, straight into the arms of his sentinels.
Ezra was caught and he frog marched out of the Jail.
“Now, Mr
Larabee, Mr Tanner, there is no need to take this course of action.
I assure you that I would not have let Marshal Ellison touch me. It was
done in jest.”
“Shut up,
Ezra.” Chris and Vin spoke together,
two Sentinels, one mind, one need, and one guide.
Ezra seemed
to stumble, throwing Chris off balance, and the gambler pulled free and took to
his heels into the darkness.
Chris shook
his head, and he slapped Vin on the shoulder, “go hunt brother.”
The feral
Vin Tanner took off at a run.
“Aren’t you
going after him?” Blair asked, surprised to see that although Larabee’s
signature Sentinel Karma was vibrating with energy, the man himself was cool and
collected as he lit one of his cheroots he answered Blair.
“No, I’ll catch up with them later, let
Vin work the edge off him first.” He
glanced across, and with his Sentinel eyesight saw what the darkness was masking
to Blair. The young tracker heaved himself up onto the roof of the Potters’
store, and began moving swiftly across the roof top, jumping onto the next roof,
hunting like the wild, feral creature he was, and that was so barely hidden in
his every day form.
Chris’s head
snapped round as he heard the low, deep rumble of Josiah Sanchez’s laugh;
“Brother Larabee, I believe that Four Corners has just gotten really
interesting.”
0-0-0-0-0
Ezra slowed
down. A gentleman didn’t run, but he
did make exceptions to that rule; when his two Sentinels were chasing him, no
way were they going to hunt him down like prey.
Looking over his shoulder, he didn’t see anyone chasing him, but even so
he cut down the alleyway. With a sigh he slowed to a walk and then gave his
cuffs a tug to bring them back into place. It was then that he heard the thud of
something landing on the roof above him.
Before he could react, a pair of booted feet swung into view and then Vin
dropped down in front of him. Ezra backed off.
“Mr Tanner, I don’t know what you have in mind, err Mr Larabee,”
the gambler looked round, then pitched his voice louder, “Mr Larabee, this is
beyond a joke.” A deep-throated growl vibrated from the feral sentinel as he
stalked forward. “Mr Larabee?” Ezra was calling out for his Alpha, his
voice beginning to have a desperate edge to it.
At the jail,
Jim heard the cry and looked across at Chris Larabee. “Vin won’t hurt him,
Ellison,” the gunman drawled, but his hand tightened on the cup of coffee he was
holding, “just get rid of the itch that’s riding him.” Then, slowly, he drained
the coffee, and waved the cup at Blair for a refill.
Mary Travis
looked out of her bedroom window on to the alleyway, and then pulled back.
The light from the night fire burning on the street threw a little light
into the alleyway, and she saw a man thrust someone against the wall, leaning
into them. Disgusted that he was taking a whore near her house, she was about to
turn away, when the whore pushed away and was dragged into the street, the light
painting them for a moment. The
breath caught in her throat; that renegade, Tanner, and Standish.
At the same time, she caught their voices. “Not the livery, Mr Tanner.”
“What’s
wrong with it, Ez, warm straw and the horses won’t mind the company.”
“But I do,
let go.” Standish twisted in the tracker’s grip, only to be pushed back hard
against the side of the building, resulting in a gasp of breath as it was jarred
from the gambler. He stopped
struggling, and lifted one hand. The
tracker flinched back, but the gambler reached out and stroked. Mary spluttered
he stroked that filthy tracker’s face. “My room, soft bed.”
“Too late
for that, have you now,” and as Tanner began to drag him away, the last words
she heard were the gambler complaining,
“last time I was picking splinters out of my ass for a week,” then a
laugh that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Quickly she
pulled her dress on and then with a quick look in on Billy, stepped out of her
house. She lived along from the
newspaper office, with only an empty house between her and the livery.
She put her head round the corner of the door to the livery and saw the
black hat of the gambler being thrown over the front of one of the stalls,
landing in the straw near her feet. Disgusted, she turned on her heel and headed
back to her home. She didn’t have to
see more.
Vin looked
up, twisting towards the door, only to be caught and pulled down.
Ezra batted away the horse’s inquisitive nose as it nuzzled at his
shoulder.
He had got
splinters in his ass last time the feral went for him, he sure as hell wasn’t
going to let that snapping turtle of a horse take a lump out of him this time.
Vin’s eyes
were burning with a blue flame that flickered, hot and wild.
His need was growing, and he was holding onto his control only by his
fingertips. He had tracked and caught his guide, and looked ready to claim what
was rightfully his. “You know, Mr Tanner, Mr Larabee would not be happy if you
started without him,” Ezra’s eyes widened as the bowie knife appeared in Vin’s
hand, a mischievous grin on the feral's face as he saw the look of shock and
disbelief on Ezra’s. “You wouldn’t dare, Mr Tanner.”
“Want to bet
on that, Ez? Only caught you with a knife that once, wouldn’t have done that if
you’d kept still.” His Texan accent was heavier than normal, a clear indicator
to the southerner of his younger Sentinel’s state of mind.
“Once was
enough, Mr Tanner, with that pig sticker that you carry.”
“You mean
this little tooth pick, Ez?” Vin leaned further over him, the knife only inches
from Ezra’s face, then it dropped lower.
The razor-sharp tip was hooked under the button of the fancy shirt he was
wearing.
“Don’t even
think of it, Mr Tanner, I have shot people for less.
This coat came all the way from San Francisco, and the shirt from
Chicago.” Backing up another step, his back collided with the wall of the stall.
The grin on
Vin’s face changed and now echoed the one he had worn earlier in the jail when
the Ezra had started the game. Now
the feral was going to end it.
Back at the
jail, Jim and Chris exchanged a look, a smile twisting the gunman’s lips as he
finished his last cup of coffee and got slowly to his feet.
He had a
guide to bond with.
0-0-0-0
The next
morning, Blair found Buck wolfing down a breakfast that made the healthy-eating
guide’s arteries ache; give him a bowl muesli any day.
“What’s on
your mind, Doc?”
“Two
sentinels, one guide, unusual to say the least, Buck.”
“Well Doc,
not usual, but it works for them,” he waved a piece of biscuit, “why don’t you
tell old Buck what you really want to know.”
“What was it
like when Chris and Vin first got together?
I’ve heard the story, but an Alpha and a Wild Sentinel together, the fur
must have flown.”
“You could
say that, but Chris don’t give up easily, and he can out do Junior on pure
pig-headed stubbornness any day of the week,” he paused thoughtfully.
“Well, it can be close run.” For a moment, Buck remembered back to the
early days, then he realised that Blair was waiting for him. “Vin was wild like
an untamed mustang.” Buck grinned.
“Hell, he’s not much different now, but he sensed that Chris was his Alpha.
But Junior is too bull headed to accept it, been running wild and alone
for too long. Chris had to take him down hard the first time, had to protect the
pup from himself. Man oh man, that boy can cuss in English, Spanish and a couple
of the Indian languages, when he has a mind, not that you would know it, boy’s
not exactly a chatterbox, that’s for sure.”
“Take him
down?”
“Yeah, you
know, rope him up to a tree.”
Blair leaned
forward. “How did he take it?”
“Doc, he
threaten to gut me and Chris, but old Chris he just laughed, and cuffed him
across the head, and went back to sitting by the fire. Well, by evening Vin was
getting good case of cold balls.” He looked at Blair’s expression.
“Didn’t I tell you Chris stripped him off?
Well, he did, and Vin was as cold as ice, but still wouldn’t give in.
He’s as stubborn as a mule. We were both keeping an eye on him, had to make him
accept Chris as his Alpha. I saw enough of what can happen if these wild pups
don’t accept an Alpha during the war, didn’t want it happening to Vin.”
“He gave
in.”
“Hell no, we
ended up having to untie him and brought him to the fire.” Buck rubbed his jaw
as he remembered the way Vin had fought tooth and nail until Chris had him face
down, a knee in his back, one hand in that long hair, pulling him back so that
his neck was arched back, forcing him to submit to him. “Well, let’s say that
Chris marked him good and proper.” Buck shook his head.
“I can still hear that scream, never thought a human could sound like
that. After that Vin was skittish
with us for a while, I was worried he was going to run.
But Chris, he knew better, gave Vin his head, and he came back, knew who
his Alpha was. He still kicks his
heels up, makes Chris work for it.
Vin will never be one to roll on his belly like your tame Sentinels. But it puts
fire in Chris and that’s a good thing. And old Buck here keeps the peace. That
what you wanted to hear, Doc?”
“Curious,
that’s all. I am looking into
Sentinel behaviour, seeing how I can help Jim. People don’t understand the needs
of Sentinels and what they don’t know, they fear.”
0-0-0-0
It was noon
before Ezra Standish appeared. He
paused for a moment, looking round.
He could feel his sentinels’ eyes on him.
Chris was sat in front of the jail, and Vin was leant against the post
next to him, a mug of coffee in his hand and an infuriatingly smug look on his
face. The young gambler heard the
tune being whistled, Marching through Georgia, as he walked, then John Brown’s
Body. The cowboys laughed, wanting to get him to react, but he refused to give
them the satisfaction. A large man mountain came out of the Potters’ store
dressed in filthy buckskin and collided with Ezra, sending the smaller man
flying into the hitching post. “You should look where you’re going, Reb,” and he
stalked off, whistling the Battle Hymn of the Republic. A snarled comment from
Ezra made the man mountain turn, “any time you want your ass kicking, Reb, and
you can try.”
Ezra reined
himself back. “A gentleman doesn’t
brawl in public.” His eyes flashed, even as his poker face slid into place, as
he added, “But then, a Yankee pig like you wouldn’t know that, would you.”
The man
mountain, Big Bill Connor, turned back fast onto Ezra, looming over him. Then
suddenly, he grinned broadly, showing his uneven teeth.
“You’re all right, Reb, buy you a drink.” Then, he leaned right into Ezra
and took a deep breath, and the grin got even broader. Even as the southerner
spluttered indignantly. Then, in the
same low tone, Big Bill added, “You joining us, Vin, this pretty little thing
belongs to you.”
Vin’s hand
slackened on Chris’ shoulder, and released it from where he had clamped it to
keep the man in black in his seat.
The tracker
crossed the street, looking the other Buffalo hunter up and down. Big Bill
turned to face him, “Vin, you horse stealing son of a bitch.”
“At least I
don’t fuck them, Bill.”
The big man
closed the distance between them in two big strides and caught the smaller
tracker up into a large bear hug, swinging him up and off his feet before
putting him back down. “Only when it’s a cold hard winter boy, and there’s
nothing warmer and softer.” He added, “Just taking the Reb for a drink, you
coming?”
“Can always
use a drink, and the Reb’s name is Ezra and he’s ours.”
“Ours?” Bill
said.
Vin just
jerked a thumb over his shoulder back at the black dressed figure now stood
against the post of the jail porch, his hand resting on the butt of his gun.
“Shit Vin,
you never do things by half, do you boy?” Then the penny dropped.
The black clothing, the silver and black gun belt... “That’s-”
“Chris
Larabee, my Alpha.”
Big Bill
whooped and hit Vin on the back, nearly sending the younger man flying. “A mean
son of a bitch, but he’s good for you by the look of it.” The Buffalo hunter
threw an arm round each of the younger men and steered them to the saloon.
“He going to join us?”
“No.”
Big Bill
gave a relieved sigh, “Know I’m going to sup with devil when I am dead, just
don’t want to do it while I am still alive.”
0-0-0-0-0
Later, from
the window in their hotel room, Jim watched the street.
He didn’t turn around as Blair entered. “Found out what you wanted,
Chief?”
“You’re
right, Buck’s the best one to talk to, gave me a good insight into their first
bonding.”
“Well, we
have more important things going on, come over here.” Jim stood to one side and
pulled Blair so that he could see what was going on.
“Ezra’s been
getting it all day, someone is trying to push him. Fuck.”
Jim took to
his heels, slamming out of the room, and taking the steps two at a time. When he
got to the reception counter, the Clarion broadsheet was already there. He
grabbed one and flipped the clerk a coin.
The front page read:
EZRA STANDISH,
CONMAN AND
CARDSHARP
Reading
through quickly, Jim read about the incident at Clear Ridge, how Ezra has been
caught cheating and the decent citizens had tarred and feathered him and run him
out of town. The disgrace to the town and the disgust of the good people when
they heard what one of their new regulators was.
The venom
increased with each paragraph. Jim shook his head; Mary Travis had gone to work
with a hatchet on the young gambler’s reputation.
Through the
front door of the hotel he saw a white-faced Chris Larabee clutching the paper
in his hand, striding towards the Clarion Office, the townspeople scattering in
front of him. He almost jerked the door off its hinges, and then the glass
rattled as it was slammed shut behind him. When he appeared again a few minutes
later, he paused and looked back into the office, growling, “lady, I am the bad
element”, and then Chris was gone, heading back towards the saloon.
To be
continued.