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some expensive Scotch
whisky.  He got terribly sick and had to rush out to the street to heave.
    “ Katie ,
I ’ m
thinking about buying a house here … you know, like something for a getaway. ”
    “ You
mean from your wife? ” Katie returned smartly and went down the
bar to wait on another customer.
    “ You
know what I mean! ”
    Katie
cast her eyes to him and in the process caught sight of Deputy Striker making
his way through the crowded room.  He had a bandage over the gash on his head
now but that was mostly covered by his hat, down low.  The shiner, though, was
plenty visible, darker than ever now, looking a bit like raw calf ’ s
liver.
    Katie
went back to Bart , keeping her eyes on Striker all the
while.  “ Didn ’ t
Deputy Striker haul you in once? ”
    “ The
son of a bitch will never do it again, ” he said angrily, mostly
to impress Katie, then looked around, catching sight of him as well.  “ Fucker
better mind his own business. ”
    “ Rather
tough language for a man who went willingly the last time, ” Katie egged him on.
    “ Yeah,
well I was too drunk to fight …   Give me a shot, Katie.  Whiskey! 
Make it a double. ”
    Katie
had the bottle in her hand before “ double ” came out, and her hand
skipped to the larger glass.  Sliding it over, she kept the bottle in hand,
expecting him to ask for another.  And he did, after dumping down the first
without flinching.  She gave Bart an extra measure this time.
    Katie
had no idea where all this was going, but figured whatever happened would be a
plus for her  —  she didn ’ t
like either man.  Wanting to be away from Bart now, she went around the bar and
collected mugs for refills.  Striker was at the other end of the room,
seemingly looking at every face as he moved through.  Could he be looking for
somebody?
    Moments
later Lester Kingsley came in the door.  Striker spotted him instantly and
started toward him, making his way just behind those at the bar.  Kingsley,
however, changed course and went to Katie at a table distributing drinks from a
tray filled with them.   “ I
have something to tell you. ”
    “ Okay. 
Just give me a minute, ” Katie said and turned back to the
table.  Unbeknownst to her, Striker had drawn his pistol and was pushing people
out of the way as he charged forward.
    Out
of the corner of his eye, Bart Miller saw Striker coming up behind him.  Timing
it just right, he came around with a haymaker to Striker ’ s
jaw.  That dropped him, but on the way down his Colt revolver discharged
accidentally into the floor.  This caused immediate chaos and people scrambled
for the door.  In the midst of the commotion, Lester, having become frightened,
ducked out through the rear exit and disappeared.
    By
the time Bart lifted Katie off the floor, the place was completely empty,
except for the three of them: Katie, Bart Miller and Kermit Striker, who was on
his belly out cold.
    “ Oh
my God!  What did you do? ” Katie screamed.  “ Get
out!  Just get out, Bart!  And you best not ever come back here, if you know
what ’ s
good for you! ”
    Looking
much like a fresh whipped pup, Bart deposited Striker ’ s
gun on the bar, slinked across the room and out the door.
    A
few minutes later, just as Striker was coming around, people started
returning.  At first just a few, then more as time went on.  Two men helped
Striker to his feet, slapped his hat on his head, shoved his gun in the holster
and marched him across to the s heriff ’ s
office.
    Seeing
him go, Katie knew what would follow.  And she was right.  Ten minutes later
Preston Ames showed his face in the tavern.  He marched directly up to her,
slammed a fist on the bar and demanded to know what ’ d
happened to his deputy.  He then cast his steely eyes around the room in
anticipation someone would give him the answer.  But no one did … not even a hint.
    “ Katie? ”   He then turned to face
her.
    “ What, Sheriff ? ” she said