The big gundown by J.A. Johnstone Page B

bodies of the two dead gunmen. “Besides, nobody’s going to lose any sleep over those two. They were born troublemakers.”
    “Well, you’re right about that,” Stewart admitted grudgingly. He looked at The Kid again. “You plannin’ on ridin’ out of town tonight?”
    “No. I’ll be here for a day or two, at least.”
    “You’ll be here until after the inquest tomorrow, that’s for damn sure. I want your word on it.”
    “You’ve got it,” The Kid said.
    The sheriff finally lowered his scattergun, and once the twin barrels were pointed toward the ground, he eased the hammers back down. He was on the short side, a middle-aged man with a brushy mustache and what seemed to be a perpetual glare. He gave The Kid a curt nod and said, “I’ll fetch the undertaker. Don’t give him any more work while you’re in Bisbee, if you know what’s good for you.”
    If The Kid knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t be in Bisbee on the trail of a gang of vicious, murdering sons of bitches armed with a damned cannon, of all things, but he didn’t explain any of that to Sheriff Stewart. Instead he just returned the lawman’s nod.
    The store owner, Carmichael, motioned to The Kid as Stewart headed up the street with the greener tucked under his arm. “Come on in. I’d like to talk to you.”
    The Kid had been headed into the general store anyway, so he followed the proprietor inside. A few customers were clustered just inside the entrance, peering out curiously.
    “It’s all over, folks,” Carmichael told them. “You can go on about your business now, especially if your business is buying merchandise from me.” He grinned.
    The little knot of people dispersed. Carmichael gestured for The Kid to follow him toward the back of the store, where there was a long counter. Carmichael went behind it and pointed to a stool in front of it.
    “Have a seat, Mister…?”
    “Morgan,” The Kid supplied, without adding the rest of it. He held on to the pups.
    “You can set ’em down if you want. I don’t think they’ll get into too much trouble.”
    “That’s all right. They’re pretty hungry. They might start looking for something to eat.”
    “Well, we can take care of that. Got some beef scraps they can have. Are they big enough to eat something like that?”
    “I don’t know. They’re not really my pups. I sort of…inherited them. I’m looking for a good home for them, as well as some information.”
    “About dogs?”
    “About a man,” The Kid said. “Colonel Gideon Black.”
    A scowl appeared on Carmichael’s normally friendly face. “I know the name. Don’t really know the man, though. Don’t want to, either.”
    “Why not?”
    Carmichael hesitated. “I don’t want to say anything against the man, in case he’s your friend.”
    “He’s not,” The Kid assured the storekeeper. “I never met the man.” Technically, that was true, although he had laid eyes on the colonel once. “I promised some people I’d look him up, and I was told that he’s been here in Bisbee lately.”
    “That’s true. He’s been in and out of town several times in recent weeks. I don’t really know the man myself, so I shouldn’t make any judgments as to his character. I’m just going by the company he keeps.”
    “Bad company, huh?” The Kid asked, even though he already knew the answer.
    Carmichael nodded toward the street. “Those two gunnies you just tangled with out there…”
    “Colonel Black’s men?” The Kid asked, somewhat surprised.
    “Not really. They wanted to be, but I reckon Black turned them down. They didn’t ride out with him the last time he left. Plenty of other hard cases did, though. That’s why I don’t care much for the colonel. He’s surrounded himself with gunmen. Outlaws and hired killers, if you ask me.”
    The Kid nodded. So far, Carmichael hadn’t really told him anything that he didn’t already know, except that Paxton and Rawley had been would-be members of the