Read Online Collection 1988 - Lonigan (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour - Free Book Online

going away, but went down hard. Bill rushed to get close and Dan rolled over and came to his feet. He stabbed another left to the mouth, took a smashing blow on the chin that rang bells in his head, and then he bored in, ripping wicked, short-arm punches to the body with all the drive of his powerful shoulders.
    Bill pushed him away and swung with everything he had. The punch caught Regan on the chin, and he went down, turned a complete somersault, and lay stretched out on his face in the dust!

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    A SHOUT WENT up from the Fulton men, and they began dancing around, slapping each other on the back. Then Regan got up.
    They stared. Hefferman, astonished beyond reason, rushed. He met that same stiff left hand in the teeth, and it stopped him flat-footed. Before he could get untracked, Regan knocked him down with a right.
    Lunging to his feet, Hefferman charged. The two began slugging like madmen. Bill grabbed Dan by the belt and shirt and heaved him high, but Dan jerked up with his knee and smashed Bill’s nose to crumpled bone and flesh. Hefferman staggered and Regan broke loose. Dropping to his feet he set himself and threw two powerful swings to Bill’s chin.
    Like a lightning-shivered oak, the big man staggered and his knees buckled. Dan Regan walked in, threw a left, and then let go with a right to the belly that drove every bit of wind Hefferman had into one explosive grunt. The big man doubled, and Regan brought a right from his knees that lifted him from his feet and dropped him on his back in the dust!
    He lay perfectly still.
    Dan Regan stepped back quickly, working his fingers. His work-hardened hands felt good. Skinned on the knuckles, but still supple and quick.
    â€œAll right, Fulton!” he said.
    Burr wheeled. The gunman dropped into a half crouch, his eyes suddenly aware. Triumph lit his eyes, and with a sneer, he dropped his hands.
    Then he froze, still clutching the butts. He blinked and swallowed. He was looking into a pair of twin six-guns that had appeared in Dan Regan’s hands as if by magic.
    â€œIt was a trick!” he roared. “A sneaking trick!”
    Dan smiled. “Why, you tinhorn, try it again!”
    He dropped his guns into his holsters and lifted his hands free. Before Burr Fulton could so much as tighten his grip on his own guns, Regan’s had leaped from his holsters.
    â€œBurr,” Regan said quietly, “I told you you wouldn’t have a chance with me! You’re not a badman, you’re just a wild-haired cowhand who got an idea he was fast! Back up and go to punching cows before you try to draw on the wrong man and get killed! You’re no gunslinger! You couldn’t even carry a gunslinger’s saddle!”
    Burr Fulton swallowed. It was hard to take, but he was remembering the speed of those guns, noting the steadiness of them. “Try it again!” he screamed. “And come up shootin’! I’d rather be killed than made a fool of!” He was trembling with fury, his face white and strained.
    â€œBurr,” Dan replied patiently, “you’re strictly smalltime, and I’m not a scalp hunter. You draw on me and I’ll shoot holes in your ears!”
    Burr Fulton froze. Perhaps nothing else would have done it.
Holes in his ears!
The brand of a coward! Why, he would be ruined! He would…!
    He stepped back and straightened up. “All right,” he choked. “You win!”
    â€œNow,” Regan said. “I’m ramrodding the Slash B from here on! Anyone caught rustling our stock will be strung up right on the ranch and left hanging until he dries up and blows away! You’ve all got just until daylight to leave the country. Tomorrow my boys start combing the brakes, hunting for strangers. I hope we don’t find any!”
    Webb, Newton, Bowne, and Jones suddenly stepped out in a solid rank. All four held double-barreled shotguns which Curly had taken from their horses under cover of the