offices with the intention of conducting his business with the sheriff. He didn’t reach the sheriff’s office though before the big man, having regained consciousness, challenged him once more.
‘You slugged me, mister,’ Pug said, and stood dead centre of the street, legs wide, arms hanging at his sides, hands curled inwards. Someone had given him another gunbelt and he looked ready to bring his gun into play with one upward movement.
‘Don’t be a fool,’ Arkansas said. ‘I’m tiring of you now.’
‘Make your play,’ the big man insisted. An angry bruise was forming on the side of his head where Arkansas had hit him. He was furious over that and knew that this was going to end one way only. There was no avoiding gunplay now that the point of no return had been crossed.
Arkansas stood perfectly still and allowed his eyes to scan the street. Onlookers had gathered and were watching with interest. John Lance was in the doorway of his offices and Rycot had emerged from the livery stable and was watching Arkansas closely, no doubt hoping to witness the fabled fast draw with his own eyes.
‘Go for your gun,’ Pug yelled, ‘or I’ll shoot you down anyway.’
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ Arkansas said, ‘but I warn you I’ll kill you this time.’
The coolness of the other man enraged Pug all the more and he snarled as he pulled his gun and shot,but his aim went wide, though the bullet did come perilously close to Arkansas’s head and seemed to part his hair as it whistled past him.
Pug didn’t get another chance before Arkansas’s bullet took him in the stomach and spun him around before dropping him to the ground. He groaned in pain but still had some fight, if not sense, and he lifted the Colt, squaring it at Arkansas.
‘No,’ Arkansas said and shot again. This time the bullet took the big man dead centre of his forehead. His head snapped back sharply, sending a spray of crimson onto the air. His tongue slapped his face like fish guts hitting a sink. The last breath from his lungs closely followed and the final beat from his heart came just afterwards.
Arkansas looked across at Lance and shook his head. ‘I warned you about this,’ he said. ‘You send another man after me and I’m going to send him back just as dead. And then I’m going to come after you.’
Coinciding with Arkansas’s second shot, the sheriff emerged from his office and now he walked across the street and stood next to Arkansas. He watched as Arkansas holstered his weapon.
‘I’ll need to speak to you about this,’ the lawman said.
‘It’s a small world,’ Arkansas said, and calmly walked ahead of the sheriff towards his office.
NINE
The sheriff had been as much use as a hole in the head.
He had confirmed Lance’s claims that he had purchased the McCord place legally from William McCord, but said he was not authorized to show the documents to any proxy of Mr McCord. On the subject of the doctor’s disappearance, the sheriff had more or less implied that the doc did that from time to time. The only information of any use that Arkansas had gleaned from the lawman was that the name of the man left dead in the street was Pug Atkinson. The sheriff claimed to be unaware if the big man was working for Lance or not. And there was certainly no obvious connection between the shoot out and John Lance. ’Least, as far as the sheriff was concerned, there wasn’t.
Arkansas didn’t hold much credence in the sheriff’s claims. It was obvious from the man’s manner that the lawman was scared of John Lance and may have even been in his employ. Arkansas smelt a rat there, but itdidn’t really matter since he knew he would get to the bottom of it when he received the answer to his telegram.
There was no doubt in his mind that John Lance was talking through his hat regarding the purchase of Will’s spread. It was also as sure as the wind blew that Lance had been responsible for Will’s shooting. Maybe not directly,
‘You slugged me, mister,’ Pug said, and stood dead centre of the street, legs wide, arms hanging at his sides, hands curled inwards. Someone had given him another gunbelt and he looked ready to bring his gun into play with one upward movement.
‘Don’t be a fool,’ Arkansas said. ‘I’m tiring of you now.’
‘Make your play,’ the big man insisted. An angry bruise was forming on the side of his head where Arkansas had hit him. He was furious over that and knew that this was going to end one way only. There was no avoiding gunplay now that the point of no return had been crossed.
Arkansas stood perfectly still and allowed his eyes to scan the street. Onlookers had gathered and were watching with interest. John Lance was in the doorway of his offices and Rycot had emerged from the livery stable and was watching Arkansas closely, no doubt hoping to witness the fabled fast draw with his own eyes.
‘Go for your gun,’ Pug yelled, ‘or I’ll shoot you down anyway.’
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ Arkansas said, ‘but I warn you I’ll kill you this time.’
The coolness of the other man enraged Pug all the more and he snarled as he pulled his gun and shot,but his aim went wide, though the bullet did come perilously close to Arkansas’s head and seemed to part his hair as it whistled past him.
Pug didn’t get another chance before Arkansas’s bullet took him in the stomach and spun him around before dropping him to the ground. He groaned in pain but still had some fight, if not sense, and he lifted the Colt, squaring it at Arkansas.
‘No,’ Arkansas said and shot again. This time the bullet took the big man dead centre of his forehead. His head snapped back sharply, sending a spray of crimson onto the air. His tongue slapped his face like fish guts hitting a sink. The last breath from his lungs closely followed and the final beat from his heart came just afterwards.
Arkansas looked across at Lance and shook his head. ‘I warned you about this,’ he said. ‘You send another man after me and I’m going to send him back just as dead. And then I’m going to come after you.’
Coinciding with Arkansas’s second shot, the sheriff emerged from his office and now he walked across the street and stood next to Arkansas. He watched as Arkansas holstered his weapon.
‘I’ll need to speak to you about this,’ the lawman said.
‘It’s a small world,’ Arkansas said, and calmly walked ahead of the sheriff towards his office.
NINE
The sheriff had been as much use as a hole in the head.
He had confirmed Lance’s claims that he had purchased the McCord place legally from William McCord, but said he was not authorized to show the documents to any proxy of Mr McCord. On the subject of the doctor’s disappearance, the sheriff had more or less implied that the doc did that from time to time. The only information of any use that Arkansas had gleaned from the lawman was that the name of the man left dead in the street was Pug Atkinson. The sheriff claimed to be unaware if the big man was working for Lance or not. And there was certainly no obvious connection between the shoot out and John Lance. ’Least, as far as the sheriff was concerned, there wasn’t.
Arkansas didn’t hold much credence in the sheriff’s claims. It was obvious from the man’s manner that the lawman was scared of John Lance and may have even been in his employ. Arkansas smelt a rat there, but itdidn’t really matter since he knew he would get to the bottom of it when he received the answer to his telegram.
There was no doubt in his mind that John Lance was talking through his hat regarding the purchase of Will’s spread. It was also as sure as the wind blew that Lance had been responsible for Will’s shooting. Maybe not directly,
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