Shoot Him On Sight Read Online Free Page A

He shot a sour glance in my direction and passed on inside.
    I waited five minutes, then followed. There were no customers in the bank when I entered. At one side were two grilled windows; at the other a flat desk for clients. No chair there. A chair might have been an expense. The cashier stood at his window; another man worked at a ledger behind him. At the rear was a small room with a small door marked, "Private".
    The cashier said, "Morning, Johnny."
    I moved easily toward his window. "I got a date to see Mr. Kirby. He said shortly after eight. Is he in yet?"
    "Just came in a minute ago." He smiled wanly. "Usual dill pickle disposition. If you want a loan, I'll warn you his humor is bad."
    I laughed easily. "When was it good? Well, I'm not asking much, but I got a chance to pick up some beef steers at a bargain."
    The cashier nodded. "Better give him a minute or so, until he recovers from his usual morning indigestion belches."
    Wait a minute or so? And me tenser than a drum-head inside. I could feel that boiling indignation coming up again, but I only gave a short laugh and we fanned the air for a couple of minutes. I handed out that line about heading north for deer, again. That was three folks I'd told. Maybe they'd take stock in that "north" guff when the law got on my trail. After a minute I took off in the direction of Kirby's office.
    I paused an instant at the door, knocked once, then turned the knob and pushed inside, closing the door behind me. Kirby's head shot up. "You, Cardinal, don't you know enough to wait for an invitation to enter?"
    "I know enough, but time is short," I said briefly. "I've got a couple of things to say to you—" He had started to rise from his chair.
    I slapped one hand sharply to my Colt butt. "Sit down," I snapped.
    His face went a dirty-gray color and he dropped back in the chair. He didn't know I was damn' near as scared as he was, but I kept up the bluff. "Wha—wha—what do you want?" he stammered.
    "First, I've wanted to tell you for a long time that you're a low-down, greedy, penny-pinching scoundrel and lower than a rattler's belly. Everybody in town hates you—in town and out. Once you get your talons in a man you never let up, and it's time you was taught a lesson. Is that clear?"
    He gulped hard, tried to answer, but couldn't. I went on in a snarly tone of voice. "More than once I've been ready to throw a chunk of lead through your worthless guts. Now I think the time is prime for just that."
    "You—you wouldn't dare," he quavered. "You'd swing for murder—"
    "But you'd be dead," I laughed coldly. "I'd have the thanks of every man in Tenango City. You ready for it? No!"—as he opened his mouth—"Don't yell for help." Again I reached toward my gun-butt.
    Only a half groan issued from his white lips. He half stumbled up then went down on his knees and began to plead for mercy. Slobber ran from his mouth. It was disgusting. Now he was pleading for mercy, tears running down his cheeks, offering to do anything. He started to sob in broken tones and I was afraid he'd be heard in the outer bank.
    Again, I touched my gun-butt and told him to tone down. He quieted, but still remained on his knees, body shaking like a calf being branded. "All right," I growled at last. "You've got just one chance—"
    "Any—anything you say, Mister Cardinal," he gasped.
    "You get a chance to prove just that," I said tersely. "I need three hundred dollars. That's a cheap price for your life. So, it's up to you."
    The thought of losing money stiffened his spine a mite. He clambered back in his chair, still shaking though. "Now, look here, if you think you can cover the Serrano mortgage in such fashion—"
    "Old Pablo? I don't have anything to do with his business. Hell, no! I've got to have three hundred to get some cows at a bargain price, from a feller up north. But I got to act quick. Now, shake your hoofs!"
    "I got to have security," he whined. "Why can't you come here decent and do business?