Читать книгу Return of the Gun - R. B. Conroy - Страница 11

Chapter 6

Jon slept in the next morning; after a quick bath and a late breakfast at the local café, he hurried down to the stables.

The big wooden door at the stables squeaked as Jon pulled it open. “Anybody here?” he asked.

“Hold your britches on! I’ll be right with ya,” a voice shouted out from one of the stalls. “

As Jon walked over to Babe’s stall and gently stroked her neck, he could hear the stablehand hurrying toward him. He stopped and looked at Jon, apparently annoyed that Jon had taken the liberty to enter Babe’s stall.

“How’s she doing, Mr.—?” Jon asked as he backed out of the stall.

“The name’s Hank Clark, and she’s doing just fine, but she’s still a little tired. Another day’s rest and grooming would do her a lot of good, Mr.—”

“Stoudenmire, Jon Stoudenmire. And you’re the boss, Hank. Whatever you say. She was plenty tuckered when we got to town yesterday.”

Hank nodded and watched as Jon ambled out of the stable area.

Jon tipped his hat to the wary hand and headed down Main Street to see about getting a few supplies. The weathered steps to the general store sunk a little as he stepped up. Suddenly he ducked to his left as a six gun blasted away nearby. Instinctively, he jumped down to the street, drew his six gun and spun to confront the fire. At the same time, the shooter turned toward Jon’s menacing six gun. “Easy, partner, easy now, draw down, just shootin’ an old nasty rattler here in the alley beside the store. Meant no harm.” It was a familiar but unpleasant voice.

“No harm done, Barton, but something tells me it wasn’t an accident.” Jon eased his Colt slowly back into its holster.