Showdown at Gun Hill by Ralph Cotton Page A

undergarments. . . .”
    A muffled laugh rippled across the rail guards. The black-suited detectives gave them a hard, sharp stare.
    â€œOh, that’s
real funny
, Fish,” said Hinler, straightening, adjusting his dusty vest over his stomach paunch. “Be sure and tell it to the devil when he’s got you both turning on the spit.” He ended his words with a kick to Fish’s shoulder. Fish only grunted and rolled onto his side.
    â€œGet the nooses around their necks!” Hinler shouted. “Get their horses ready. Let’s see what these game birds look like when their bellies burst open.” He kicked at Parker Fish again, but missed, almost fell. Then he stepped back angrily as two detectives stepped forward and twisted the nooses around the men’s necks.
    â€œI’ve been
sugary
-
kind
up until now,” Hinler said down to the prisoners. “Now you’ll see my
dark-ugly
side.” As he spoke, two rail guards tied the other ends of the ropes to the saddle horns on the outlaws’ horses. He turned to the two guards as they stepped forwardand took the horses by their reins. “Remember, men, slow and steady, like mules pulling cedar stumps.”
    From among the detectives and rail guards, Leon Foley looked away as the ropes drew tighter around the cactus, around the two men’s necks. As the two men rose slightly off the ground, their hands still cuffed behind them, Foley closed his eyes tight.
    â€œI can’t watch this,” he said under his breath. “I ain’t cut out for this kind of work.”
    â€œKeep the horses moving slow, men,” Hinler called out to the two rail guards. “We don’t want these thieving saddle tramps to miss a thing.”
    The cactus made a creaking sound as the two ropes tightened.
    The colonel stood with his feet spread, his hand clasped behind his back, as if at parade rest. He smiled with satisfaction as the horses took another slow, measured step. But then his smile vanished quickly as he heard the rifle shot behind him. He felt a blast of air streak between his knees from behind and saw a puff of dust rise in front of him. He spun toward the sound of the shot and grasped the ivory-handled butt of his shiny Remington. But he froze when he saw the Ranger and Sheriff Stone sitting atop their horses on a slope above him. The Ranger’s Winchester was at his shoulder, cocked and ready. Aimed at the colonel’s chest.
    â€œBack those horses off
now
, Colonel,” he demanded, thirty feet away, “else the next bullet takes an eye out.”
    The detectives and rail guards alike froze, seeing the rifle aimed at Hinler. The two guards stopped the outlaws’ horses before the colonel told them to. Feeling thetension on their saddle horns, the horses stepped back instinctively; the two stretched-out outlaws lowered to the dirt, gasping.
    â€œHow dare you even
threaten
me, let alone fire a weapon at me, Ranger!” the colonel shouted, enraged. His hand kept a tight grip on his shiny pistol butt, but he made no attempt to raise the big Remington from his holster. “I will have your hide for this, so help me, God!”
    â€œShut up, Hinler,” said Sheriff Stone. “Do like he says or I’ll settle your hash myself.” He held his Colt leveled and cocked toward the colonel. “I’ve wanted to shoot you more than I’ve wanted goose for Christmas.”
    The rail guards stood in rapt silence, but the detectives started to make the slightest move. Stone swung his Colt toward them. “I’ll settle for a couple of you black-suit
plugs
, though,” he said. The detectives froze again and stared.
    The bloody prisoners gagged and coughed and wrung their heads back and forth, trying to loosen the nooses around their necks.
    â€œGet the nooses off those men, pronto,” Sam called out to the two rail guards.
    Leading the horses around by their reins, the two