.44 Caliber Man by J.T. Edson

afore.’
    ‘ Now that ain’t the truth, lil brother,’ Sam Trimble put in.
‘We did so see one. Back in Galveston afore the War. Only he wore a
wig, face-paint and jewelry as well. Them sailor-boys sure used to
come ’round him like bees to honey.’
    Sucking in his
breath, Colin put down the glass. He still faced the bar, but could
see the Trimbles’ leering faces reflected in the mirror. Something
about them gave Colin a warning. The two men were looking for
trouble, that showed in their attitude. Not wanting to become
involved in a brawl, Colin tightened his lips and ignored the
words. A red flush crept up the back of his neck and he clenched
his fists.
    ‘ I mind the feller,’ Eric continued. ‘They say he used to dress
like a gal all the way through. Fancy frilly drawers and all. Is
that what you wear, feller—or should I say “girlie”?’
    Still Colin
refused to be goaded. However, Kenny looked at Branch and growled,
‘Call ’em off, Sprig.’
    ‘ The boys’re only funning, Kenny,’ Branch answered in a
carrying tone, but made no attempt to do as the young mustanger
asked.
    ‘ I asked you a question, girlie,’ Eric said. ‘What do you wear
under that skirt?’
    Slowly Colin
turned to face his tormentors. ‘I’m thinking you’d best mind your
own business.’
    Games stopped
and conversation around the room drifted to an end as the people
present became aware that the group at the bar were doing more than
making idle conversation. Moving along the sober side of the
counter, the bartender hoped to prevent trouble.
    ‘ Take it easy, boys,’ he said in a placating manner. ‘Let’s all
have a drink and keep things friendly.’
    ‘ Sure we will,’ Sam agreed. ‘Only if we’re all so friendly,
this feller oughta show us what’s under his skirt.’
    Watching the
others, Branch grinned. On learning of Kenny Schell’s presence, he
had seen a way to remove his only rival for the Army remount
contract. No other mustangers were in the area and the Army needed
horses badly. So their buying commission would award the contract
to the first mesteneros who applied. All too well Branch knew the
Schell family’s reputation and so did the Army. Even with Trader
dead, the soldiers might figure the Schells their best bet.
However, if Kenny met with an accident there was no other man to
take his place.
    From Moore’s
description, Branch had guessed Colin’s nationality and figured how
the Scot would react to comments about his kilt. So he had given
orders for his men to pick on Colin. That way it would seem the
trouble started with the Scot and Kenny became involved by
accident. Once a fight began, it would be easy to see that Kenny
did not walk away from it.
    Aware of what
his boss wanted, Moore winked at the Trimbles and took hold of the
kilt’s hem.
    ‘ Let’s take a loo—’ the little man began.
    And got no
further with words or actions. Letting out a low growl, Colin laid
his left hand on Moore’s face and pushed. Lifted from his feet, the
small man went reeling down the bar, tripped over a spittoon and
sat on his rump with some force.
    Realizing that
there was no hope of avoiding trouble, Colin wisely decided to make
the best of it. He had no intention of giving up his national
dress, so figured an example of his fighting skill might cool off
other such incidents.
    A startled
curse broke from Sam Trimble and he began to turn on Colin.
Swinging around from pushing Moore, the Scot crashed a backhand
blow which caught the side of Sam’s jaw and pitched him headlong
into his brother. With a snarl, Eric shoved Sam away—and almost
immediately wished that he had not. Gliding in, Colin drove his
right fist against Eric’s stomach. Feeling as if he had been kicked
in the stomach by a mule, Eric reeled back. His eyes bulged out,
hands clasped at his mid-section and he dropped to his knees,
moaning.
    Branch gulped,
backing away along the bar and staring as if mesmerized at the
scene before him. Beyond