dust.”
“That’s right,” Hugh said.
“I’m glad you came back through. I’ve got stew on if you’re hungry.”
Hugh smiled, revealing broken yellowed teeth. “I was telling my friend Fat Pete, here, that I know you from some place else—that whorehouse in Butte, maybe.”
Ellie folded her arms over her chest as her shoulders stiffened. “I don’t think so. My late husband and I were from Denver.”
Nick noted how easily she lied.
Hugh spit on the ground. “I don’t know. It was about six months ago. We were at the Silver Slipper whorehouse. You served us supper.”
Ellie tucked a coppery curl behind her ear, as if she were doing her best to look relaxed and uninterested. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake.”
Fat Pete leaned closer. His eyes held a hunger Nick did not like. “Hugh never forgets a face, especially one that’s as pretty as yours.”
“You’re wrong,” Ellie said clearly. “I’ve never been to Butte.”
Nick’s hand slid to his gun.
Hugh moved a step closer. “We think you are lying.”
Ellie’s back stiffened. “I’m going to ask you two men to leave now.”
“Once we’ve finished our business,” Fat Pete said.
Nick could tolerate no more. Gun drawn, he stepped out of the shadows and onto the porch. Pain burned through his leg as he forced it to bear his weight. “She’s already got a customer,” he said quietly.
Ellie backed away from the edge of the porch toward Nick. This close, he could see she trembled.
Hugh took a step back. “I knew she was from Butte. I told you, Pete, I never forget a face.”
Fat Pete laughed. “We’d be willing to wait. I never did mind sharing.”
Nick bared his teeth in a dangerous smile. “I don’t share.”
Hugh’s eyes narrowed. “Now that don’t seem right. A good whore can do ten men in a night.”
Nick cocked his gun. “Leave.”
Hugh scowled as his hand slid to his gun. “The way I see it, there are two of us and one of you.”
Nick fired his gun so quickly Ellie wasn’t sure what had happened until she saw the plume of dirt at Hugh’s feet and heard him yelp. “Try me.”
“Damn, mister,” Hugh said. “We don’t want trouble, but if it’s trouble you want—”
“I want your guns,” Nick said.
“I ain’t giving up my guns!” Hugh said.
Nick shrugged. “Your guns or your kneecaps. The choice is yours.”
Fat Pete didn’t have to be told twice. He dropped his gun belt. “He’ll do it, Hugh. That’s Nick Baron, the bounty hunter. The Tracker. I heard he skinned a man and left him for the coyotes just because the man spit on his boot.”
Hugh hesitated. “A big reputation don’t mean nothing to me.”
Nick fired his gun. The bullet knocked Hugh’s hat off his head. “The next one will be between the eyes.”
Hugh shouted an oath as he reached for his belt buckle. His guns dropped to the ground.
“Ellie, get the guns,” Nick ordered.
She didn’t argue and collected the guns. She moved to stand some distance behind him.
He pointed his six-shooter at Fat Pete and Hugh as if he’d not decided whether he was going to kill them.
Hugh held up his hands. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Then remove the rifles from your saddle scabbards and give them to me,” Nick ordered.
“That’ll leave us defenseless!” Hugh looked worried.
Nick fired his pistol again, nicking Hugh’s ear. “Die now or later. It makes no difference to me. But I will have your guns.”
Their eyes wide with fear, they scrambled to their horses and pulled the rifles from their holsters. Fat Pete set his on the ground immediately, but Hugh whirled around, raising his rifle.
Nick fired, hitting Hugh in the hand. The miner’s rifle dropped to the dirt and he clutched his bleeding hand.
Ellie winced. She moved a step further away from Nick.
Hugh quickly laid his rifle in the dirt next to Fat Pete’s. He clutched his wounded hand to his chest. “There, you got it. Now don’t shoot no
“That’s right,” Hugh said.
“I’m glad you came back through. I’ve got stew on if you’re hungry.”
Hugh smiled, revealing broken yellowed teeth. “I was telling my friend Fat Pete, here, that I know you from some place else—that whorehouse in Butte, maybe.”
Ellie folded her arms over her chest as her shoulders stiffened. “I don’t think so. My late husband and I were from Denver.”
Nick noted how easily she lied.
Hugh spit on the ground. “I don’t know. It was about six months ago. We were at the Silver Slipper whorehouse. You served us supper.”
Ellie tucked a coppery curl behind her ear, as if she were doing her best to look relaxed and uninterested. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake.”
Fat Pete leaned closer. His eyes held a hunger Nick did not like. “Hugh never forgets a face, especially one that’s as pretty as yours.”
“You’re wrong,” Ellie said clearly. “I’ve never been to Butte.”
Nick’s hand slid to his gun.
Hugh moved a step closer. “We think you are lying.”
Ellie’s back stiffened. “I’m going to ask you two men to leave now.”
“Once we’ve finished our business,” Fat Pete said.
Nick could tolerate no more. Gun drawn, he stepped out of the shadows and onto the porch. Pain burned through his leg as he forced it to bear his weight. “She’s already got a customer,” he said quietly.
Ellie backed away from the edge of the porch toward Nick. This close, he could see she trembled.
Hugh took a step back. “I knew she was from Butte. I told you, Pete, I never forget a face.”
Fat Pete laughed. “We’d be willing to wait. I never did mind sharing.”
Nick bared his teeth in a dangerous smile. “I don’t share.”
Hugh’s eyes narrowed. “Now that don’t seem right. A good whore can do ten men in a night.”
Nick cocked his gun. “Leave.”
Hugh scowled as his hand slid to his gun. “The way I see it, there are two of us and one of you.”
Nick fired his gun so quickly Ellie wasn’t sure what had happened until she saw the plume of dirt at Hugh’s feet and heard him yelp. “Try me.”
“Damn, mister,” Hugh said. “We don’t want trouble, but if it’s trouble you want—”
“I want your guns,” Nick said.
“I ain’t giving up my guns!” Hugh said.
Nick shrugged. “Your guns or your kneecaps. The choice is yours.”
Fat Pete didn’t have to be told twice. He dropped his gun belt. “He’ll do it, Hugh. That’s Nick Baron, the bounty hunter. The Tracker. I heard he skinned a man and left him for the coyotes just because the man spit on his boot.”
Hugh hesitated. “A big reputation don’t mean nothing to me.”
Nick fired his gun. The bullet knocked Hugh’s hat off his head. “The next one will be between the eyes.”
Hugh shouted an oath as he reached for his belt buckle. His guns dropped to the ground.
“Ellie, get the guns,” Nick ordered.
She didn’t argue and collected the guns. She moved to stand some distance behind him.
He pointed his six-shooter at Fat Pete and Hugh as if he’d not decided whether he was going to kill them.
Hugh held up his hands. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Then remove the rifles from your saddle scabbards and give them to me,” Nick ordered.
“That’ll leave us defenseless!” Hugh looked worried.
Nick fired his pistol again, nicking Hugh’s ear. “Die now or later. It makes no difference to me. But I will have your guns.”
Their eyes wide with fear, they scrambled to their horses and pulled the rifles from their holsters. Fat Pete set his on the ground immediately, but Hugh whirled around, raising his rifle.
Nick fired, hitting Hugh in the hand. The miner’s rifle dropped to the dirt and he clutched his bleeding hand.
Ellie winced. She moved a step further away from Nick.
Hugh quickly laid his rifle in the dirt next to Fat Pete’s. He clutched his wounded hand to his chest. “There, you got it. Now don’t shoot no
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