Read Online Riding For The Brand: Sage Country Book Three by Dan Arnold - Free Book Online
Authors: Dan Arnold
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to start a fight with him, you done that all on your own.” Snake responded.
I pushed Higgins backward with my gun, until we reached where my .45 had landed in the yard.
I knew I would never be able to get him to Bear Creek by myself, at least not without having to kill him. He would try to jump me the first chance he got.
“You wouldn’t kill an unarmed man would you?” He asked
“Higgins, you’re just as dangerous with or without a gun. I expect you would have no qualms about killing me if I was unarmed. Now, back up over there toward your partner, so I can watch you both at the same time.”
When he was far enough away, I picked up my .45, and with both guns leveled on the two men, I decided to let them go. But Higgins had something to say.
“You just bought yourself a one way ticket to hell, mister.” He said.
“I don’t anticipate that outcome, but I suspect you will most likely end up there.”
“Oh, we’ll meet again, alright. Maybe Jud Coltrane will let me peel your hide, and nail it to the barn door.”
“Well then, maybe I should just kill you now, and save myself the trouble.”
Higgins paled.
“Whoa there, Sage, if you do, I’ll have to mix in myself.” Snake said.
“Is that right? Are you feeling lucky, Snake? Do you think you could pull your gun faster than I can shoot both of you?”
Snake shrugged.
“It’s up to you.” He said.
I nodded.
“OK, Higgins this is your lucky day. Get on your horse and get out of my sight. If you try something like this again, I’ll put a bullet through the pimple on your shoulders you call your head.”
Higgins looked relieved, as he mounted his horse. Then he remembered something.
“What about my gun?” He asked.
“It’s my gun now. Be grateful I took it, instead of your life.”
Snake Flanagan looked amused.
“Thanks for staying out of this, Snake.” I said.
“Por nada. When I’m ready, we’ll see just how good you really are.”
“…Another time, another place.” I said.
“You won’t have long to wait.” He replied.
I watched them both ride away. When they were completely gone from sight, or sound, I holstered my .45, put my .38 back in the shoulder holster, tucked Higgins gun behind my belt, and retrieved my hat.
The yard didn’t seem quite as lonely as when I had first arrived.
I walked down to the creek to get Dusty. It was time for us to go into Buttercup.
12.
Buttercup wasn’t much of a town. There was a general store that served as post office, stage stop, and feed store. Across the road was a dingy, little saloon. Some horses were tied at the hitching rail in front of the saloon. On the other side of the plank bridge across Buttercup Creek, there was a small livery stable and stock yard. Those and a couple of frame houses, some shacks and outhouses, were about all there was to Buttercup.
I stepped off Dusty in front of the general store and left him ground tied, with the reins draped across the hitching rail.
Inside, I was surprised to see how tidy and well organized the establishment was. A quick look around showed canned goods, bolts of fabric, tools and harness, guns and ammo, even ladies garments on display in separate sections of the store.
From behind a glass counter with a small assortment of glassware, china and silver on display, a bald headed man wearing an apron said, “Good morning, sir. Welcome to Buttercup.”
“Morning,” I nodded in response.
“How can we help you, sir? I don’t believe we’ve seen you in here before.” The man said.
“I was wondering if you might be able to tell me something about some folks who used to live here. Also, do you have any fresh bandages?”
“…Bandages? Are you hurt?”
“I think I broke open a wound. I’ve just had the stiches out.”
“Lida! Come quick, we have an injured man in here,” he called.
“Oh, there’s no need for that, I can manage…”
A heavyset woman with gun metal grey hair pinned up in a bun, came
I pushed Higgins backward with my gun, until we reached where my .45 had landed in the yard.
I knew I would never be able to get him to Bear Creek by myself, at least not without having to kill him. He would try to jump me the first chance he got.
“You wouldn’t kill an unarmed man would you?” He asked
“Higgins, you’re just as dangerous with or without a gun. I expect you would have no qualms about killing me if I was unarmed. Now, back up over there toward your partner, so I can watch you both at the same time.”
When he was far enough away, I picked up my .45, and with both guns leveled on the two men, I decided to let them go. But Higgins had something to say.
“You just bought yourself a one way ticket to hell, mister.” He said.
“I don’t anticipate that outcome, but I suspect you will most likely end up there.”
“Oh, we’ll meet again, alright. Maybe Jud Coltrane will let me peel your hide, and nail it to the barn door.”
“Well then, maybe I should just kill you now, and save myself the trouble.”
Higgins paled.
“Whoa there, Sage, if you do, I’ll have to mix in myself.” Snake said.
“Is that right? Are you feeling lucky, Snake? Do you think you could pull your gun faster than I can shoot both of you?”
Snake shrugged.
“It’s up to you.” He said.
I nodded.
“OK, Higgins this is your lucky day. Get on your horse and get out of my sight. If you try something like this again, I’ll put a bullet through the pimple on your shoulders you call your head.”
Higgins looked relieved, as he mounted his horse. Then he remembered something.
“What about my gun?” He asked.
“It’s my gun now. Be grateful I took it, instead of your life.”
Snake Flanagan looked amused.
“Thanks for staying out of this, Snake.” I said.
“Por nada. When I’m ready, we’ll see just how good you really are.”
“…Another time, another place.” I said.
“You won’t have long to wait.” He replied.
I watched them both ride away. When they were completely gone from sight, or sound, I holstered my .45, put my .38 back in the shoulder holster, tucked Higgins gun behind my belt, and retrieved my hat.
The yard didn’t seem quite as lonely as when I had first arrived.
I walked down to the creek to get Dusty. It was time for us to go into Buttercup.
12.
Buttercup wasn’t much of a town. There was a general store that served as post office, stage stop, and feed store. Across the road was a dingy, little saloon. Some horses were tied at the hitching rail in front of the saloon. On the other side of the plank bridge across Buttercup Creek, there was a small livery stable and stock yard. Those and a couple of frame houses, some shacks and outhouses, were about all there was to Buttercup.
I stepped off Dusty in front of the general store and left him ground tied, with the reins draped across the hitching rail.
Inside, I was surprised to see how tidy and well organized the establishment was. A quick look around showed canned goods, bolts of fabric, tools and harness, guns and ammo, even ladies garments on display in separate sections of the store.
From behind a glass counter with a small assortment of glassware, china and silver on display, a bald headed man wearing an apron said, “Good morning, sir. Welcome to Buttercup.”
“Morning,” I nodded in response.
“How can we help you, sir? I don’t believe we’ve seen you in here before.” The man said.
“I was wondering if you might be able to tell me something about some folks who used to live here. Also, do you have any fresh bandages?”
“…Bandages? Are you hurt?”
“I think I broke open a wound. I’ve just had the stiches out.”
“Lida! Come quick, we have an injured man in here,” he called.
“Oh, there’s no need for that, I can manage…”
A heavyset woman with gun metal grey hair pinned up in a bun, came
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