Read Online Uncollected Stories 2003 by Stephen King - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephen King
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Steer Springs jail.
After Slade was sprung from the pokey, Sandra Dawson's top hand,
Mose Hart, went his bail. Slade filled both Hart and Deputy Marshall
Hoagy Carmichael full of lead (blame it on his terrible hangover). Then,
mounting his huge black stallion, Stokely, Slade made it out to the
Rotten Vulture Ranch to have it out once an for all with Sam
Columbine.
But Columbine was not there. He was off torturing ex border guards,
leaving Sandra Dawson under the watch of three trusted henchmen –
Big Fran Nixon, "Quick Draw" John Mitchell, and Shifty Ron Ziegfeld.
After a heated shootout, Slade dropped al three of them in their slimy
tracks and freed the fair Sandra.
The acrid, choking smell of gunsmoke filled the room where the
lovely Sandra Dawson had been held prisoner. As she saw Slade
standing tall and victorious, with a sinister.45 in each hand and a
Mexican cigar clenched between his teeth, her eyes filled with love and
passion.
"Slade!" she cried, jumping to her feet and running to him. "'I'm
saved! Thank heaven! When Sam Columbine got back from torturing
the Mexican border guards, he was going to feed me to his alligators!
You came just in time!"
"Damn right," Slade gritted. "I always do. Steve King sees to that."
Her firm, supple, silken fleshed body swooned into his arms, and her
lush lips sought Slade's mouth with ripe humid passion. Slade promptly
clubbed her over the head with one sinister.45 and threw his Mexican
cigar away, a snarl pulling at his lips.
"Watch it," he growled, "my mom told me about girls like you."
And he strode off to find Sam Columbine.
Slade strode out of the bunk-room leaving Sandra Dawson in the
smoke-filled chamber to rub the bump on her head where he had clouted
her with the barrel of his sinister.45. He mounted his huge black
stallion, Stokely, and headed for the border, where Sam Columbine was
torturing Mexican customs men with the help of his A No.1 Top Gun –
"Pinky" Lee. The only two men in the American Southwest that could
ever approach "Pinky" for pure, dad-ratted evil were Hunchback Fred
Agnew (who Slade gunned down three weeks ago) and Sam Columbine
himself. "Pinky" had gotten his infamous nickname during the Civil
War when he rode with Captain Quantrill and his Regulators. While
passed out in the kitchen of a fancy bordello in Bleeding Heart, Kansas,
a Union officer named Randolph P. Sorghum dropped a homemade
bomb down the kitchen chimney. "Pinky" lost all his hair, his eyebrows,
and all the fingers on his left hand, except for the forth, and smallest.
His hair and eyebrows grew back. His fingers did not. He is, however,
still faster than greased lightning and meaner than hell. He had sworn to
find Randolph P. Sorghum some day and stake him over the nearest
anthill.
But Slade was not worried about Lee, because his heart was pure and
his strength was as ten.
In a short time the agonized screams of the Mexican customs officials
told him he was nearing the border. He dismounted, tied Stokely to a
parking-meter and advanced through the sagebrush as noiselessly as a
cat. The night was dark and moonless.
"No More! amigo!" the guard was screaming. "I confess! I confess! I
am – who am I?"
"Fergetful bastid, ain't ye?" Pinky said. "Yore Randolph P. Sorghum,
the sneakun' low life that blew off 90% 0' my hand durin' the Civil
War."
"I admit it! I admit it!"
Slade had crept close enough now to see what was happening. Lee had
the customs official tied to a straight-backed chair, with his bare feet on
a hassock. Both feet were coated with honey and Lee's trained bear,
Whomper, was licking it off with his long tongue.
"I can't stand it!" the guard screamed, "I am theese whatyoumacallum,
Sorghum!"
"Caught you at last!" Lee gloated. He pulled out his sinister Buntline
Special and prepared to blow the poor old fellow all the way to
Trinidad. Sam Columbine, who was standing far back in the shadows,
was ready to bring in the next guard.
Slade
After Slade was sprung from the pokey, Sandra Dawson's top hand,
Mose Hart, went his bail. Slade filled both Hart and Deputy Marshall
Hoagy Carmichael full of lead (blame it on his terrible hangover). Then,
mounting his huge black stallion, Stokely, Slade made it out to the
Rotten Vulture Ranch to have it out once an for all with Sam
Columbine.
But Columbine was not there. He was off torturing ex border guards,
leaving Sandra Dawson under the watch of three trusted henchmen –
Big Fran Nixon, "Quick Draw" John Mitchell, and Shifty Ron Ziegfeld.
After a heated shootout, Slade dropped al three of them in their slimy
tracks and freed the fair Sandra.
The acrid, choking smell of gunsmoke filled the room where the
lovely Sandra Dawson had been held prisoner. As she saw Slade
standing tall and victorious, with a sinister.45 in each hand and a
Mexican cigar clenched between his teeth, her eyes filled with love and
passion.
"Slade!" she cried, jumping to her feet and running to him. "'I'm
saved! Thank heaven! When Sam Columbine got back from torturing
the Mexican border guards, he was going to feed me to his alligators!
You came just in time!"
"Damn right," Slade gritted. "I always do. Steve King sees to that."
Her firm, supple, silken fleshed body swooned into his arms, and her
lush lips sought Slade's mouth with ripe humid passion. Slade promptly
clubbed her over the head with one sinister.45 and threw his Mexican
cigar away, a snarl pulling at his lips.
"Watch it," he growled, "my mom told me about girls like you."
And he strode off to find Sam Columbine.
Slade strode out of the bunk-room leaving Sandra Dawson in the
smoke-filled chamber to rub the bump on her head where he had clouted
her with the barrel of his sinister.45. He mounted his huge black
stallion, Stokely, and headed for the border, where Sam Columbine was
torturing Mexican customs men with the help of his A No.1 Top Gun –
"Pinky" Lee. The only two men in the American Southwest that could
ever approach "Pinky" for pure, dad-ratted evil were Hunchback Fred
Agnew (who Slade gunned down three weeks ago) and Sam Columbine
himself. "Pinky" had gotten his infamous nickname during the Civil
War when he rode with Captain Quantrill and his Regulators. While
passed out in the kitchen of a fancy bordello in Bleeding Heart, Kansas,
a Union officer named Randolph P. Sorghum dropped a homemade
bomb down the kitchen chimney. "Pinky" lost all his hair, his eyebrows,
and all the fingers on his left hand, except for the forth, and smallest.
His hair and eyebrows grew back. His fingers did not. He is, however,
still faster than greased lightning and meaner than hell. He had sworn to
find Randolph P. Sorghum some day and stake him over the nearest
anthill.
But Slade was not worried about Lee, because his heart was pure and
his strength was as ten.
In a short time the agonized screams of the Mexican customs officials
told him he was nearing the border. He dismounted, tied Stokely to a
parking-meter and advanced through the sagebrush as noiselessly as a
cat. The night was dark and moonless.
"No More! amigo!" the guard was screaming. "I confess! I confess! I
am – who am I?"
"Fergetful bastid, ain't ye?" Pinky said. "Yore Randolph P. Sorghum,
the sneakun' low life that blew off 90% 0' my hand durin' the Civil
War."
"I admit it! I admit it!"
Slade had crept close enough now to see what was happening. Lee had
the customs official tied to a straight-backed chair, with his bare feet on
a hassock. Both feet were coated with honey and Lee's trained bear,
Whomper, was licking it off with his long tongue.
"I can't stand it!" the guard screamed, "I am theese whatyoumacallum,
Sorghum!"
"Caught you at last!" Lee gloated. He pulled out his sinister Buntline
Special and prepared to blow the poor old fellow all the way to
Trinidad. Sam Columbine, who was standing far back in the shadows,
was ready to bring in the next guard.
Slade
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