Read Online Further Adventures of James Butler Hickok (9781101601853) by J. R. Roberts - Free Book Online Page B

mine.”
    â€œYou’re pushin’ this, Dave,” Hickok said, “not me.”
    The two men glared at each other.
    * * * 
    After Tutt had left home, Susannah had run to the livery, where a man named Hal Jayson worked.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Jayson asked when he saw her.
    â€œIt’s Dave,” she’d told him. “He’s going after Bill.”
    â€œHickok will kill ’im,” Jayson said.
    â€œYou’ve got to stop them!” she said.
    â€œYou stay here,” he told her. “I’ll get the boys.” By “the boys,” he meant some of Dave’s friends. Tutt had friends in town; Hickok didn’t.
    He only hoped they weren’t too afraid of Hickok to help.
    * * * 
    Clint stepped off the boardwalk and into the street.
    â€œJust stay right there, friend,” the spokesman shouted.
    â€œWhat’s on your mind?”
    â€œYou gunned down some friends of ours,” the man said. “We ain’t gonna let you get away with that. Not in this town.”
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    The man hesitated, then said, “Levi Rawson.”
    â€œMr. Rawson,” Clint said, “you and your friends are making a mistake, the same mistake your other friends made. They paid the price. I don’t think you want to pay also.”
    â€œYou’re the one’s gonna pay, mister,” Levi said, hiking up his gun belt.
    â€œYou fancy yourself pretty good with that shooting iron, huh?”
    â€œDamned good.”
    â€œThat’s what I was afraid of.”
    If Levi and the others thought he was afraid, they were wrong. What he was afraid of was that a man who thought he was good with a gun was hard to talk out of using it.
    â€œOkay,” he said, “the play is yours.”

TWENTY-FOUR
    Hal Jayson and three other men, all armed, reached the square before any shooting could start. They stood off to one side. Both Tutt and Hickok knew they were there.
    â€œWhat do we do?” one of them asked Jayson.
    â€œWe wait,” Jayson said. He knew Susannah wanted him to stop what was going to happen, but he knew Dave Tutt would not appreciate that. So he was just there to back his friend’s play.
    * * * 
    Tutt saw his friends, but knew they wouldn’t interfere. He also knew he and Hickok were too far apart. He had to close the gap, so he started walking.
    * * * 
    â€œDon’t do it, Dave,” Wild Bill Hickok called. “Don’t start walkin’ toward me. Not with bad intentions.”
    But Tutt kept coming.
    Forty yards.
    Thirty.
    â€œDave . . .” Hickok said warningly.
    At twenty-five yards, Tutt reached for his gun.
    * * * 
    Clint watched Levi Rawson carefully. When the man went for his gun, he realized that Rawson was right. He was very good—fast anyway. Clint didn’t know how really good he was because he didn’t allow the man to get off a shot.
    He cleanly outdrew Levi Rawson and shot him in the chest. Then he turned his attention to the other three, who were clawing for their guns.
    Fanning the hammer of a gun is a very inaccurate way of firing. Every time you slap the hammer with your palm, you jerk the barter of the gun up—that is, unless you’re good at it, and you compensate for the movement.
    Clint Adams was good at it. He fanned the hammer of his gun with his left hand, firing so quickly and accurately that none of the three men was ever able to get off a shot.
    The silence was deafening after all the firing. Clint had two shots left in his gun, just in case, but he knew the four men were dead.
    The only witness to the event was the bartender from the saloon, whose mouth dropped open in awe. He had never seen anyone move so fast in his life.
    And then, from the center of town, Clint and the bartender heard two shots.
    Two shots almost fired as one.
    * * * 
    In the square, Dave Tutt went for his gun,