Novel 1959 - The First Fast Draw (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Page A

pulled up in front of the military headquarters, and I walked right in, asking nobody yes or no. There was a soldier dozing on a chair near the door with a rifle across his knees. He gaped at me, then started to pick up that rifle but something in my eyes made him change his mind. Maybe it was because I was a-figuring to stretch him out if he made a move to swing that gun on me. And I was positioned to do it.
    This soldier was the Reconstruction vintage, if you know what I mean. He was no veteran. Likely he never killed nothing more than a squirrel, or something he could aim at two hundred yards off…It was a sight different to look up and see a full-grown man staring at him, just a-waiting for him. This boy had a uniform coat and cap, but only homespun pants—and he was asking for no trouble.
    Colonel Amon Belser was there. He was tipped back in his chair looking at some papers and when he looked over them he saw me. I don’t think he liked what he saw.
    “Colonel,” I said, “Chance Thorne came out to my place the other night and set on me. The men with him took my pistol and my Spencer, and gave me a sight of a whipping to boot. I came to get my guns back.”
    This Belser was surprised, but he was no fool. He sat very still, trying to think it out before he spoke. I had an idea Chance had operated on his own, but Chance was not a good man to cross and, unless I missed my guess, Chance was a man who would have influence.
    “If you received a beating,” Belser said stiffly, “no doubt you deserved it. I know nothing about your guns.”
    “This here country,” I said, “a man needs a gun. Lots of mighty mean folks riding the roads these nights. I’d like my guns, Colonel.”
    Belser was angry. He was top man here and not used to being talked to like that. “Baker,” he said to me, “you get out of here! And get out of town! I know nothing about your guns, but from what I’ve heard of you, you’re better off without them.”
    Well, sir, right then I leaned over the desk and picked up the brand-new, spanking-new Dragoon Colt that lay there on the desk. Then I spun the cylinder and checked the action. It was in working shape and fully loaded.
    “Then I’ll just have to take this one,” I told him, speaking mildly. “And it looks like a fine weapon.”
    “Put that down!” Belser could get authority in his voice when he was a might to. “That’s my pistol!”
    Well, now. Putting that pistol behind my waistband I shoved open the little gate in the fence that kept folks back from him, and walked over to the rifle rack. There were several guns there, but one of them was a Spencer carbine, a sight newer and much finer than the one I’d had taken off me. It was loaded too.
    Belser got up suddenly and started for me and I just turned around. Holding the carbine belt-high thataway it was just almost naturally pointed at his belt buckle. Lead taken on a full stomach is mostly just indigestible, middle of the day, especially.
    Belser stopped. He didn’t want to stop, I could see that, but maybe he was having trouble with his digestion and didn’t want anything to upset his stomach. Man like that, he has worries, and it doesn’t pay to take anything on your stomach you can’t rightly handle. He was mad with himself for stopping, but he stopped.
    “Colonel,” I told him, and I spoke quiet-like. “I came back to the Sulphur River country to mind my own affairs. When I came back here I wanted no trouble with any man, but I’ve been set on and beaten. Now I know the men who did it, and when I figure the time is right, I’ll talk to each and every one of them. I’ll read them from the Scriptures, Colonel, but in my own good time.
    “Seems to me you’d want it quiet here. Seems folks back Washington way and down about Austin, seems like they might figure you weren’t handling things right if a lot of trouble was stirred up down here. Now you leave me alone and you tell Chance Thorne to lay off me, and I’ll