Outlaw Trackdown Read Online Free Page B

“Happy now?”
    â€œPleased as punch.” Coltraine hefted the coins and smiled. “The town of Horse Creek thanks you.”
    â€œI want a receipt.”
    â€œSee me after we get back.” Coltraine resumed loading, and when Fargo didn’t move, looked up. “Anything else?”
    â€œNo.” Fargo got out of there before he said something Coltraine would resent.
    Deputy Wilkins was just coming out of the stable, leading a sorrel. He saw Fargo and waved.
    Fargo was tempted to go into the saloon. Instead he unwrapped the Ovaro’s reins from the hitch rail and led the stallion to the marshal’s.
    More waiting added to his annoyance. It was a full half an hour before the marshal emerged. By then three townsmen had shown up leading their mounts. All wore store-bought duds and looked about as fearsome as kittens.
    â€œAre you with the posse too?” asked a pudgy man in a bowler who was sweating buckets.
    Fargo nodded.
    â€œI don’t believe I’ve seen you before. I’m Norman. I work as a clerk over to the Emporium.”
    Fargo noticed that the holster strapped around Norman’s thick waist had a lot of dust on it. “Use that much?”
    Norman touched his six-gun as if surprised it was there. “Mercy, no. Didn’t you hear me say I’m a clerk? I got this years ago but haven’t used it once.”
    â€œYet you offered to join the posse.”
    â€œOffered, nothing,” Norman said. “The marshal came into the Emporium and told me I’m coming along.”
    â€œWhy you? Are you good on horseback?”
    Norman stared at his horse as if it were from another planet. “Not really, no. I rode some when I was a boy but to tell the truth, horses have always scared me.”
    â€œScared you how?”
    Norman swallowed. “It’s those big teeth. I can’t help imagining what would happen if one took a bite out of me. And then there’s those hooves. Why, a horse’s hoof can crush a man’s skull.”
    Fargo turned to the second townsman. “How about you? Can you ride and shoot?”
    This one was older and had stubble on his chin and a perpetual scowl. “Sure I can ride. I work at the stable. Not that that gave the marshal any call to come marching in and say I was going with the posse and be ready, or else.”
    â€œHow are you with that six-gun you’re wearing?” Fargo asked.
    â€œI can hit a barn pretty good.”
    Fargo looked at the third townsman, who brought to mind a mouse in a cheap suit. “Let me guess. You’re hell on wheels with a six-shooter and a horse.”
    The mouse grinned. “Would that I were. I wouldn’t be an accountant. I’d be a lawman like the marshal.”
    â€œThis will be some posse,” Fargo said.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Norman said. “We might not be much but they are.” And he gestured.
    The cowboys Fargo had tangled with appeared a little the worse for tangling. Nearly all had bruises and one puncher’s nose was swollen.
    â€œWhy, look at them,” the townsman who was afraid of horses said. “They look as if they’ve been in a fight.”
    â€œThat’s cowpokes for you,” Norman said. “Always drinking and fighting and trifling with women.”
    The cowhand called Floyd came to a stop and the rest followed suit. Hooking his thumbs in his gun belt, he regarded Fargo as if Fargo were a bug he’d like to squash. “Look who it is, boys.”
    The tall cowboy in the high-crowned hat surprised Fargo by smiling. “You’re one tough hombre, mister. I haven’t been hit so hard since I was knee high to a calf and my grandpa walloped me for lyin’.”
    â€œA person should never lie, Mr. Rollins,” Norman said. “It’s not nice.”
    â€œIt’s just Rollins,” the tall cowboy said. “And why are you here? You couldn’t lick a puppy if the pup