The man on the floor was dead, shot by a heavy rifle. Waco turned and waved back the men who came from the houses behind the saloon and ran forward to help him. This was a personal matter now, Brarsand was the man who killed Sunshine Sam Catlan and tried to ruin the S.S.C. or scare Mary Anne from her home. Brarsand was Waco’s meat, the man he’d ridden from the O.D. Connected to find.
Crossing the room on silent feet Waco holstered his left hand gun once more and gripped the knob of the door leading into the bar-room. This was the time of danger. If the door was locked he would be forced to kick it open and alert them, but it would do no good to hesitate now. He twisted the knob and pushed the door slowly.
Brarsand was standing with his back to Waco, looking at the batwing doors and lining his revolver ready to shoot down the first man through. Waco was about to lunge forward when he saw the bar mirror’s reflected view of the room. Apart from a man who lay by a broken window he could see no one. The stairs leading to the first floor and the balcony were deserted, yet at least one man should be there.
It was then Waco detected a movement, caught it reflected in the mirror. Talbot was crouching behind the bar, ten-gauge shotgun in his hands, ready to turn loose the murderous charge when the batwing doors burst open. Then Waco saw the black hat moving, accompanied by another, white hat. Red and Doc were moving in and he must take a hand.
‘Brarsand!’
Waco yelled the word and flung himself forward. The big man started to turn, his gun coming up. Waco’s right-hand Colt crashed, throwing lead into the bar, shooting as fast as he could thumb the hammer. There was a roar from the shotgun as Talbot stiffened up into view then went down again.
Brarsand came round. He was fast but not fast enough. The revolver in his hand roared, flame licking at Waco as the young man flung himself to one side. Even as he went down Waco was shooting, his left-hand Colt thundering. Brarsand rocked on his heels, his gun crashed once more tearing a furrow in the floor by Waco, then the youngster rolled right over and fired as he landed on his stomach. A hole appeared between Brarsand’s eyes, the big man going backwards, his gun flying from his hand. The thud of his body hitting the floor was echoed by the crash as Red and Doc burst through the batwing doors.
A man came into view, leaping from a side room to the balcony at the head of the stairs, his gun slanting down. Doc Leroy brought up his Colt fast, firing almost without aiming it seemed. The man was flung backwards by the impact of the shot. He crashed into the wall and slid down, the gun dropping from his hand.
Silence fell and the smoke of the burnt powder slowly dispersed. Waco got to his feet, walking to the man who’d killed his adopted father. He bent down and picked up the revolver, noting the awkward-looking butt and the cylinder which was slightly shorter than that of a Colt. He turned to hand the gun to Red. ‘Take this for Ole Devil. He doesn’t have a Webley R.I.C. in his collection.’
‘He’s the one, is he?’ Red asked.
‘Sure’s he’s the one. We’ll let Ed Ballinger know we got the man who killed Doc Pilsener.’
‘How about you, boy?’ Doc inquired, for their business here was done now and the O.D. Connected might need them again.
‘Reckon old Rusty gal can handle things here herself. Her and Larry between them,’ Waco replied and grinned. ‘Sure be good to see Dusty, Mark and Lon again.’
The three young men walked towards the door of the saloon as men came crowding in. Waco stepped out and looked to where Larry Beaumont was talking to Mary Anne and hanging a blanket around her shoulders. The youngster smiled. Mary Anne would be all right. She wouldn’t need him here now. He’d paid his debt to Sunshine Sam Catlan.
About the Author
J. T. Edson was a former British Army dog-handler who wrote more than 130 Western novels, accounting for some 27 million sales in paperback. Edson’s works - produced on a word processor in an Edwardian semi at Melton Mowbray - contain clear, crisp action in the traditions of B-movies and Western television series. What they lack in psychological depth is made up for by at least twelve good fights per volume. Each portrays a vivid, idealized “West That Never Was”, at a pace that rarely slackens.
The Floating Outfit Series by J. T. Edson
The Ysabel Kid
.44 Caliber Man
A Horse Called Mogollon
Goodnight’s Dream
From Hide and Horn
Set Texas Back on Her Feet
The Hide and Tallow Men
The Hooded Riders
Quiet Town
Trail Boss
Wagons to Backsight
Troubled Range
Sidewinder
Rangeland Hercules
McGraw’s Inheritance
The Half-Breed
White Indians
Texas Kidnappers
The Wildcats
The Bad Bunch
The Fast Gun
Cuchilo
Trigger Fast
The Trouble Busters
The Making of a Lawman
Decision for Dusty Fog
Cards and Colts
The Code of Dusty Fog
The Gentle Giant
Set-A-Foot
The Making of a Lawman
The Peacemakers
To Arms! To Arms! In Dixie!
Hell in the Palo Duro
Go Back to Hell
The South Will Rise Again
The Quest for Bowie’s Blade
Beguinage
Beguinage Is Dead
The Rushers
Buffalo Are Coming!
The Fortune Hunters
Rio Guns
Gun Wizard
The Texas
Mark Counter’s Kin
Old Moccasins on the Trail
The Rio Hondo Kid
Waco’s Debt
... And more to come every month!
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