Read Blood on the Verde River for Free Online Page A

Chet turned away from the bar when he heard a ruckus break out over someone cheating at cards. Chairs scraped the floor. He saw one man pop up, reach over for another, jerk him facedown on the table, and slam him in the head with his knuckles. Once, twice—that was enough.
    Upset that no one had moved to stop him, Chet moved in and jerked the two men aside and caught the beater’s arm. “That’s enough.” Eye to eye, he read the man’s defiance.
    â€œWho says so?”
    â€œMe.” Chet gave him a haymaker to the chin with his right hand. His blow left the man sprawled on his back among the onlookers and he remained limp on the floor.
    â€œHoly cow, mister. You knocked him plumb out.” One mouthy guy wanted him to look at the downed gambler. Chet didn’t give a damn about the guy. He watched the crowd for someone who wanted to take up his war. No one made a move.
    A bartender brought over a bucket of water and without even a grin, poured it in the man’s face. The liquid spread out underfoot on the floor. A ragtag bum came and began mopping it up. Two men carried the unconscious man out the front door and came back too fast to have delivered him anywhere else but the boardwalk.
    When satisfied he had no threats for his actions, Chet turned and the bartender had a whiskey bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. “How much do you want of this?”
    â€œI don’t drink whiskey.”
    â€œThis one is on the house.”
    â€œYou want to buy me one, make it a beer.”
    The barkeep shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll get you a beer.”
    Chet spoke to the man next to him. “Who was he—the man I knocked out?”
    â€œBilly Bragg.”
    â€œWho’s he work for?”
    â€œOld man Newt Clanton.”
    Chet nodded. “Might as well break in my first day in Tombstone society with a guy like him.”
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    â€œChet Byrnes.”
    â€œI heard of you. You’re the guy ran down some rustlers and hung them?”
    â€œI never saw my name in the paper.” With a sip of the beer, Chet studied himself in the mirror back of the bar. He’d knocked out one of the most powerful men in the territory. What a good start he’d made the first day.
    â€œI heard of your name,” the guy beside him said under his breath. “They say you’re tough. In the next few hours, you’re going to learn how tough you are. His men will gather up to go home and when they hear that you knocked out one of their own, they’ll come looking for you with their teeth bared.”
    â€œHow many?” Beer in his hand. he turned to study the crowd. “How many of them in here worked for Clanton?”
    â€œA half dozen, maybe more,” the guy said. “They consider if anyone hurts one of theirs, they have to even the score or better it.”
    â€œAnyone ever stopped them?”
    The man tossed his head. “You come in here over Boot Hill?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œIt’s full of folks picked a fight with old man Clanton.”
    Chet downed his beer and grimaced. It didn’t taste that good. Next thing to do was to locate his men and get a plan working. Damn. He could get himself in the damndest deals. He set the empty mug on the bar and headed outside through the batwing doors. On the boardwalk, he had to sidestep the crowd gathered near the downed man. Lying in the back of a wagon, he was surrounded by people trying to revive him.
    In a few steps, he was lost in the masses and headed back toward the O.K. Livery, stopping at the saddle repair shop on the corner to wait. His two would show up sometime.
    Jesus showed up first. “I didn’t learn anything, but I made some friends among the Mexicans who live here. They say she might have been sold into slavery and taken to Mexico City. But they did not know who kidnapped her—most of them did not know her.”
    â€œBut