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Nobody, but nobody, ever spoke to Big Ed in such a manner. Not unless they were looking for a good butt-kicking.
    Big Ed stared at Frank for a few seconds, disbelief in his eyes. “What the hell did you just say to me, Drifter?”
    Frank repeated it, word for word, speaking slowly and clearly. “You understand that now, Ed?”
    â€œI think I’ll just rip that tin star off you and kick your butt!” Ed replied.
    â€œI wouldn’t try that, Ed,” Frank warned him.
    â€œOh, I’m not gonna try it, Drifter. I’m gonna do it.”
    Frank smiled and again took a sip from his coffee. “You must be really anxious to see your loudmouthed son, Ed.”
    â€œWhat do you mean by that?”
    â€œI’m gonna try to explain it real simple, Ed. I want you to understand. If you take a swing at me, you’re going to jail. Is that understood?”
    Ed smiled and unbuckled his gunbelt, handing his rig to a cowboy. “You’re headin’ for the graveyard, Drifter. Nobody talks to me like that and lives. I’m gonna beat you to death with my fists. And I’m gonna enjoy doin’ it.”
    â€œYou’re going to pay for any damage caused to this café, Simpson. You understand that?”
    â€œThe only damage is gonna be to you, Drifter!” Ed took a step toward the table where Frank was sitting.
    Frank stood up and unbuckled his gunbelt, placing it on the table. “Then come on, you loudmouthed ape. Let’s get this over with.”
    With a roar of anger and defiance, Big Ed charged Frank. Frank braced himself.

SIX
    Big Ed tried to ram Frank with his considerable bulk. Frank stepped out of the way and stuck out a boot, tripping the much bigger man. Big Ed slammed into a wall with enough force to shake the building. Frank was all over him, hitting the man on the kidneys with lefts and rights and just before backing off, slugging the rancher on the side of the head with a fist, connecting directly on the man’s ear. The head blow staggered Big Ed and his ear immediately began to swell. Frank backed off a step and waited.
    Big Ed cussed Frank and slowly turned around. Frank hit him a straight shot to the nose. Blood and snot flew as Big Ed’s nose was flattened all over his face. Before he could even begin to recover, Frank hit him four more times: twice to the face with a left and a right, and twice to the belly. Big Ed backed up against the wall, hurt. Frank kept pressing while he had the fight going his way. He pounded Ed’s face with lefts and rights, bloodying the man’s mouth and nearly closing one eye. Still the big man would not fall. Ed was tough as an oak tree.
    Frank bored in, slamming his fists into the man’s belly with sledgehammer blows. Big Ed’s one good eye was beginning to glaze over, and Frank was panting from the exertion. Frank stepped back, giving himself just enough room, and swung a right, putting everything he had behind it. The fist connected against the side of Big Ed’s jaw. Big Ed slowly sank, sliding down the wall, coming to rest on his butt on the café floor.
    â€œGawddamn,” one of the hands said, his voice low with awe at what he had just witnessed. “Big Ed didn’t even hit the man oncet.”
    Frank picked up his gunbelt and buckled it, tying down the holster. “You boy . . . pick up . . . your boss.” He panted the words. “Carry him . . . over to the jail. Move, damnit!”
    â€œYou gonna throw Big Ed in jail?” one of the hands asked, a note of incredulousness in his tone.
    â€œI sure am. Now pick him up and carry him over to the jail.”
    â€œBig Ed’s gonna kill you for sure,” another hand said.
    â€œI doubt it,” Frank replied, quickly getting his wind back. He motioned for the Simpson hands to pick up Big Ed. When they hesitated, Frank dropped his right hand to the butt of his Peacemaker.
    â€œWhoa!” one of them said, seeing