Asa said. “Very well.” He wasn’t angry at Byron, just disappointed. “From here on out we stick together.”
The batwings slammed open, and in rushed George Tandy. He lurched to a stop in horror at the sight of the bodies. “I was down the street and heard shots.”
“Half the town must have heard them,” another man said.
Tandy coughed, collected himself, and advanced a few halfhearted steps. “What a mess.”
“Have some of these men tie what’s left of them on their horses,” Asa instructed. “Then point the animals at the Circle K and slap them on the rump.”
“You killed them,” Tandy said. “You should do it.”
“Hear, hear,” Byron said.
“Until this is over, this shotgun doesn’t leave my hands,” Asa said.
“Not even in the outhouse?” Byron taunted.
“Byron, consarn you,” Noona said.
George Tandy was shaking his head. “We send those bodies back, it’ll make Bull Cumberland mad as hell. He’s liable to swoop in here with his whole bunch to wipe you out.”
“That’s the idea,” Asa said.
19
L udlow was abuzz. Word of the killings had spread like a prairie fire.
As Asa, Byron, and Noona made their way to the boardinghouse, people pointed and whispered.
“Must make you feel important,” Byron said.
Noona made a hissing sound. “For God’s sake, what’s the matter with you? Why won’t you let it drop?”
“Because I’m sick to death of it, sis. Not just a little bit, but to the very depths of my heart and my soul.”
“You even talk poetical,” Asa said.
Byron stopped and his jaw jutted like an anvil. “I’ve put up with a lot, but no more of that. You leave my poetry alone.”
“It’s never bothered you this much before,” Noona said to Byron.
“There comes a point when you have to say enough is enough.”
“I say it in every town I tame,” Asa said.
“Oh really? Is that how you justify it?”
“I told you in the saloon,” Asa said. “You don’t have to justify doing right.”
“I am so sick of you.”
“Byron!” Noona exclaimed.
Asa walked on and they followed, but Byron dragged his heels.
Ethel was outside her boardinghouse, her knitting needles and the shawl she was working on in her hands. “Those were shots I heard.”
“They were,” Asa said.
“Was it you?”
“It was.”
“How many?”
“Just two to start.”
“Good,” Ethel said.
“Brotherly love,” Byron said, “where art thou?”
“What’s the matter with him?” Ethel asked. “Is he one of those weak-sister kind of Christians?”
“He’s a poet,” Asa said.
“Ah,” Ethel said.
“Someone shoot me,” Byron said.
Asa held it in until they were in his room and he’d closed the door. Forcing himself to keep his voice calm, he said, “Not another carp out of you when we’re in public.” Byron opened his mouth, but Asa held up a hand. “Families should air their differences in private, boy.”
“Another of your rules?” Byron said.
“Without rules, we’d treat each other the same as animals do.”
“That applies to laws, too,” Byron said. “And what you just did is against the law, to say nothing of hardly being civilized. ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ remember?”
“Since when did you start quoting the Bible? All you ever quote is that dandy with a limp.”
“What a way to describe a man of Lord Byron’s genius.”
“How would you describe him?”
“As he described himself,” Byron said. “As a degenerate modern wretch.”
“Degenerate,” Asa said. “And you admire him?”
“More than I admire you.”
“No insults,” Noona said.
“Go to your rooms and fetch your things,” Asa said. “We’re staying together until this is over.”
“I can take care of myself,” Byron said.
“Not in the state you’re in,” Asa said.
“And what state would that be, Father? The state of disillusion brought on by my sire?”
Asa opened the door and moved aside. “Don’t dawdle. There might be more of them in
The batwings slammed open, and in rushed George Tandy. He lurched to a stop in horror at the sight of the bodies. “I was down the street and heard shots.”
“Half the town must have heard them,” another man said.
Tandy coughed, collected himself, and advanced a few halfhearted steps. “What a mess.”
“Have some of these men tie what’s left of them on their horses,” Asa instructed. “Then point the animals at the Circle K and slap them on the rump.”
“You killed them,” Tandy said. “You should do it.”
“Hear, hear,” Byron said.
“Until this is over, this shotgun doesn’t leave my hands,” Asa said.
“Not even in the outhouse?” Byron taunted.
“Byron, consarn you,” Noona said.
George Tandy was shaking his head. “We send those bodies back, it’ll make Bull Cumberland mad as hell. He’s liable to swoop in here with his whole bunch to wipe you out.”
“That’s the idea,” Asa said.
19
L udlow was abuzz. Word of the killings had spread like a prairie fire.
As Asa, Byron, and Noona made their way to the boardinghouse, people pointed and whispered.
“Must make you feel important,” Byron said.
Noona made a hissing sound. “For God’s sake, what’s the matter with you? Why won’t you let it drop?”
“Because I’m sick to death of it, sis. Not just a little bit, but to the very depths of my heart and my soul.”
“You even talk poetical,” Asa said.
Byron stopped and his jaw jutted like an anvil. “I’ve put up with a lot, but no more of that. You leave my poetry alone.”
“It’s never bothered you this much before,” Noona said to Byron.
“There comes a point when you have to say enough is enough.”
“I say it in every town I tame,” Asa said.
“Oh really? Is that how you justify it?”
“I told you in the saloon,” Asa said. “You don’t have to justify doing right.”
“I am so sick of you.”
“Byron!” Noona exclaimed.
Asa walked on and they followed, but Byron dragged his heels.
Ethel was outside her boardinghouse, her knitting needles and the shawl she was working on in her hands. “Those were shots I heard.”
“They were,” Asa said.
“Was it you?”
“It was.”
“How many?”
“Just two to start.”
“Good,” Ethel said.
“Brotherly love,” Byron said, “where art thou?”
“What’s the matter with him?” Ethel asked. “Is he one of those weak-sister kind of Christians?”
“He’s a poet,” Asa said.
“Ah,” Ethel said.
“Someone shoot me,” Byron said.
Asa held it in until they were in his room and he’d closed the door. Forcing himself to keep his voice calm, he said, “Not another carp out of you when we’re in public.” Byron opened his mouth, but Asa held up a hand. “Families should air their differences in private, boy.”
“Another of your rules?” Byron said.
“Without rules, we’d treat each other the same as animals do.”
“That applies to laws, too,” Byron said. “And what you just did is against the law, to say nothing of hardly being civilized. ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ remember?”
“Since when did you start quoting the Bible? All you ever quote is that dandy with a limp.”
“What a way to describe a man of Lord Byron’s genius.”
“How would you describe him?”
“As he described himself,” Byron said. “As a degenerate modern wretch.”
“Degenerate,” Asa said. “And you admire him?”
“More than I admire you.”
“No insults,” Noona said.
“Go to your rooms and fetch your things,” Asa said. “We’re staying together until this is over.”
“I can take care of myself,” Byron said.
“Not in the state you’re in,” Asa said.
“And what state would that be, Father? The state of disillusion brought on by my sire?”
Asa opened the door and moved aside. “Don’t dawdle. There might be more of them in
Similar Books
