that same unconscious level heâd unhesitatingly accepted. âCome work cows for me, then.â
From then on, they were inseparable.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
And now, striding down Whiskey Flatsâs dusty main street, Neal remarked, âTheyâve seen us.â
âThe gambler has sharp eyesâ,â Jericho said.
âI donât know what itâs about, but we have to avoid chuckinâ lead with the womenfolk so close.â
âThat wonât be up to me.â
Neal was upset with himself. Franklyn Wells had written him that the new manager and his daughters were expected to arrive this very day, but Wells had intimated it wouldnât be until later. Neal set out from the ranch early that morning with Jericho and another hand on a buckboard, plus an extra horse, but the stage was already there when they arrived.
âThose three folks I brought in?â the driver had said when asked. âThey moseyed off not two minutes ago.â Heâd scanned Main Street and pointed. âThere they are.And say, it looks as if some hard cases have latched onto âem.â
Walking faster, Neal asked Jericho, âDo you know those three?â
âI donât recollect seeinâ them before, no.â
âMust be new in town.â
âNew or not, theyâre trouble.â
Neal girded himself. The three toughs had faced them and spread out. The one in the middle, with a scar on his face, was a rarity, a two-gun man. Usually only green kids wore two six-shootersâor the very few who were the genuine articles and could use both hands as adeptly as most used one. The man with the scar wasnât a green kid.
âWatch the one in the middle.â
âThe other two ainât parsons,â Jericho said.
Neal hadnât paid much attention to the Jessups, but as he neared them he did. Alexander Jessup was much as Wells had described him. âAristocratic, like one of those Roman emperors.â Neal didnât know an emperor from a billy goat, but Alexander Jessup did have the air of someone who carried himself as if he were important.
The two daughters werenât at all what Neal had expected. Wells had written their names and mentioned they were âolder girls,â leading Neal to assume they might be fifteen or sixteen or thereabouts. But they were full-grown women, and both of them were easy on the eyes, to boot. At first glimpse, he thought the one with hair like corn silk was a shade prettier. With a shake of his head, Neal put that from his mind.
Beaumont Adams was leaning against a post, and smirking. The gambler smirked a lot, Neal had noticed, the few times heâd been in
the Three Aces.
âGentlemen,â Beaumont said. âHow nice to see you again. Welcome to our street social. Permit me to make the introductions. Mr. Neal Bonner, and Jericho, Iâd like you to meet three upstandinâ new members of our community. Mr. Scar Wratner and his friends Bird Beak and Toad.â
Isolda Jessup laughed.
The pair on either side of Scar Wratner glanced angrily at the gambler.
âWhat did you just call me?â said the one who did indeed resemble a frog or a toad. âMy name is Tuck. And this here is Grat, not Bird Beak.â
âIâm terribly sorry,â Beaumont said. âThey seemed to be the logical handles.â
Isolda laughed once more.
âYou think youâre so damn funny,â Tuck said. âKeep it up and Iâll make you laugh out your ass.â
âHush,â Scar Wratner growled. He was staring at Jericho.
Tuck hushed.
Scar went on staring. âThe tinhorn over there says youâre the cock of the walk in these parts.â
Beaumont Adams straightened. âHold on. I resent that, Wratner. I admit Iâm not the most law-abidinâ gent, but I play square at cards. Ask anyone. I never deal from the bottom.â
âGood for you.â Scar
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