Showdown at Gun Hill by Ralph Cotton Page B

guards hurriedly stooped and took the nooses off the prisoners and tossed the ropes aside. They loosened the other ends from the saddle horns and pitched them away.
    Seeing the Ranger lower the cocked Winchester an inch from his shoulder, the enraged colonel took a steptoward him, shaking his finger in the air. His other hand still gripped his ivory-handled Remington.
    â€œThis is a justifiable hanging, Ranger,” he shouted. “You and this whiskey sop have no right interfering here!”
    Before the Ranger could stop him, Stone swung his Colt around and fired two rapid shots. The first shot kicked up dirt and stopped the advancing colonel in his tracks. The second bullet hit the spot where the colonel’s next step would have been had he not jerked his foot back a split second sooner.
    Sam gave Stone a sidelong glance, holding his Winchester ready.
    â€œEasy, Sheriff,” he whispered.
    â€œEasy, my ass,” Stone whispered in reply. Then he called out, “Colonel, if you think I won’t kill you pine-box dead, take another step. I dare you.”
    The colonel stood where the two bullets marked the dirt in front of him. He raised his hands chest high; the detectives did the same, amazed at the sheriff’s gun handling. “Raise that Remmy with two fingertips.” He shot the Ranger a knowing glance and said under his breath, “The way you’re
supposed to—
and pitch it away,” he added, raising his voice again.
    â€œI thought you couldn’t remember anything,” Sam said between the two of them.
    â€œIt’s coming back to me,” Stone said sidelong. Then he said to the detectives, “All of you do the same—pitch them away.”
    â€œThat’s good to hear,” Sam said, swinging downfrom his saddle, lowering the rifle as he drew his Colt and walked forward as the detectives raised their sidearms and did as Stone told them to.
    As Sam passed the colonel, he picked up the big Remington and unloaded it, walking toward the prisoners and motioning the colonel to walk in front of him. With his hands up, the colonel walked along, cursing and grumbling as he went.
    â€œYou’re making a big mistake, Ranger,” he said. “These men tried to rob the express car at the new rail station in Gun Hill. They killed innocent bystanders! Wait until those people hear that you stopped this.”
    â€œBet they didn’t get any money, though, did they?” Sam said knowingly.
    â€œFortunately, no,” the colonel said.
    â€œBecause there was no money to be had, was there?” Sam said.
    The colonel fell silent.
    â€œYou’ve been baiting these rail spurs with empty strongboxes and letting the word out that there’s big money being shipped to the mines.” He paused, then said, “Wait until those townsfolk hear what
you’ve
been doing.”
    â€œThis is railroad business, Ranger,” said the colonel. “Mr. Siedell has a right to do what needs to be done to protect his interests.”
    Sam stopped him a few feet back from the two prisoners. Looking down at the outlaws’ battered faces, the bloody untreated bullet wounds, he shook his head.
    â€œLet me remind you that hanging is not an illegalact, if justified, Ranger. The territory law is clear enough on that.”
    â€œHere’s another law, Colonel,” Sam replied. “If I happen upon a hanging in progress, I’m sworn to stop it and make an inquiry. If I feel it necessary, I’m obligated to take the accused to a place where charges will be filed and a territorial judge will preside over the case.”
    â€œThere . . . you son . . . of a bitch,” Parker Fish wheezed, and chuckled in a weak voice.
    â€œGive it . . . to him, Ranger,” the other prisoner said in a broken voice.
    â€œShut up, both of you,” Sam said. He turned and stared at the two rail guards holding the outlaws’