Read Only 06 - Winter Fire for Free Online Page A

He focused on the first thing that came into view.
    Case.
    â€œAin’t I seen you?” Reginald asked.
    â€œI’ve been here and there.”
    â€œWhere you been lately?” he demanded.
    Beaver cast a worried look over his cards. Asking a man where he was from was not only rude, it could be dangerous. Reginald might be too irritable to miss the stranger’s quiet self-confidence, but Beaver wasn’t.
    Instinctively Beaver began looking for a place to go when the lead started flying. He had no intention of helping Reginald out. As far as he was concerned, there were too many Culpeppers hanging around as it was. One more or less wouldn’t be missed.
    â€œThere,” Case said.
    â€œHuh?” Reginald asked.
    â€œYou asked me where I’ve been,” he said calmly. “I told you.”
    Reginald came to his feet in a rush. “There?” he repeated. “Shee-it, what kinda answer is that?”
    â€œThe only kind you’re going to get.”
    Quincy leaped to his feet.
    Beaver dove for what he hoped would be a quiet corner of the saloon.
    â€œYou’re outnumbered, boy,” Quincy said, “or can’t you count that high?”
    â€œI can count, but I don’t count fleas.”
    â€œAre you calling us fleas?” Reginald demanded.
    â€œNot me,” Case said. “I have no call to insult fleas.”
    With the speed of striking snakes, the Culpeppers went for their belt guns.
    Damn, those boys are fast!
    Even as the thought flashed through his mind, Case drew and fired in a relentless roll of thunder that didn’t stop until there were no more bullets in his six-gun. Without a wasted motion he swapped the empty cylinder for the full one in his pocket.
    When he walked forward, there was a hesitation in his gait that hadn’t been there before.
    â€œI ain’t part of this,” Beaver said from the corner.
    â€œKeep it that way.”
    â€œYessir.”
    The padre sat up, blinked, and looked around.
    â€œWhat’s that racket?” he said hoarsely.
    â€œGo back to sleep,” Case said.
    â€œSmells like gunfire,” the padre said. “Anyone kilt?”
    â€œFleas, that’s all. Just fleas.”
    â€œHell. Waste of good powder, shootin’ fleas. Just crunch ’em ’tween your thumbnails.”
    With that, the padre flopped back again. His second breath was a deep snore.
    Ignoring the blood running down his leg, Case circled the fallen Culpeppers. He kicked the guns away from their limp fingers before he bent over to check on the men.
    Both Culpeppers were still alive, but not very happy about it. As time wore on they would be less happy. All of their wounds were below the belt.
    â€œSorry, boys,” he said. “If you hadn’t been so damned fast on the draw, I’d have made a clean end of it for you. Those first bullets I took knocked me off my stride.”
    Slowly he stood. He stripped off his bandanna, wrapped it around his right thigh, and tied it tight.
    Blood welled up relentlessly. More blood welled from a wound on his right arm.
    â€œYou’re in a bad way, hombre,” Beaver said.
    Ignoring him, Case dug inside his shirt, pulled out a “Wanted Dead or Alive” poster, and unrolled it against his body. Using his own blood as ink, he drew lines through the names of Quincy and Reginald Culpepper. There were other, older lines drawn. Other dead Culpeppers.
    There were names that had no line through them.
    Too many.
    â€œBetter get a move on,” Beaver said. “Them boys have kin. They’ll track you down and toast your brains over a slow fire same as ’Paches do.”
    Case dropped the poster between the two Culpeppers. Then he threw down a handful of coins.
    â€œHere’s the ante,” he said to Reginald. “Now you and Quincy can bet on who dies first.”
    Slowly Case backed toward the door. He watched Beaver every step of the way. Case might