Read Online The Best Rootin' Tootin' Shootin' Gunslinger in the Whole Damned Galaxy by Mike Resnick - Free Book Online Page A

into the ring?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Just one,” said Flint. “Don’t pull your gun out."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “They ain’t taking me without a fight,” said the Dancer.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Just once, will you try to remember that we’re not in the goddamned Wild West?” snapped Flint. “The cops will be here any second. Your job is to not kill anyone else until then. Got it?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “I didn’t kill this one,” said the Dancer with a shrug. He turned and faced a portion of the audience, his arms once again folded across his chest.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  Flint finally gave up working over the body, walked to the announcer’s stand, and explained to the crowd that the police had been summoned and that everyone should remain seated, then had to do the whole thing over again when he realized that he hadn’t activated the translating device.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  Julius Squeezer entered the ring just as he finished, and took up a position next to the Dancer. A moment later the police arrived, two of the Tilarban’s copiously weeping relatives were allowed to remain with his body, and the rest of the crowd was dispersed.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  The police doctor made a brief examination, closed what passed for his little black bag, and announced that the Tilarban had almost certainly died from heart failure.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “I hope you’ll make a public announcement to that effect,” said Flint.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “If you wish,” replied the doctor.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “I just want to make sure everyone knows that the Dancer didn’t kill him."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “I didn’t say that,” replied the doctor. “I said that the victim died from heart failure."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “ Victim ?” repeated Flint. “What the hell are you talking about?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “ Something precipitated the deceased’s heart failure. Possibly it was the explosion from the weapon; I understand that he practiced with a silent version. Possibly it was the shock of having his own weapon shot from his hand. Possibly it was something else. But whatever the actual cause was, there can be very little doubt that your entertainer precipitated it."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “You’re crazy!” said Flint. “This guy volunteered. The whole thing was explained to him before he stepped into the ring."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Then doubtless a jury of his peers will find your entertainer innocent," replied the doctor coldly. “In the meantime, it is my opinion that he should be taken into custody."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  Suddenly the Dancer was surrounded by four policemen. He slowly unfolded his arms and lowered his fingers lazily toward his pistols.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Thaddeus?” he said questioningly.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Shut up and give them your guns,” ordered Flint.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “I don’t like jails, Thaddeus."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Then don’t kill any of them, and maybe I can get you out,” replied Flint, turning off his translating mechanism. “Just spend the goddamned night there while I find out who to pay off."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  The Dancer reluctantly handed his holsters and pistols over to the police, and was led out of the tent a moment later.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “What are we to do, Mr. Flint?” asked the blue man, literally wringing his hands in dismay.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Go to bed, Mr. Ahasuerus,” said Flint wearily. “I’ll take care of it, just like I always do."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  “But a sentient being has died here!” persisted Mr. Ahasuerus. “Surely we bear some moral responsibility. We must find a way to make