Bullets Don't Die Read Online Free PDF Page B

hadn’t thought anything about it. Everybody could be forgetful at times. Even someone as young and healthy as he was had things slip his mind.
    But Tate seemed more muddled than he had been the day before, from not being able to remember his deputy’s name—if he even had a deputy—to forgetting the name of the town where he lived, to telling The Kid the same story about the origin of the town’s name as if he had no memory of spinning the same yarn the night before. It was troubling to think a man could forget so much.
    If he couldn’t remember such basic things, how could anyone know if anything he’d said had been true?
    The Kid glanced over at his companion, specifically at the badge pinned to Tate’s vest.
    How could he be sure Tate was really a lawman? The badge looked real . . . the badge might be real . . . but did Tate really have the right to wear it?
    And if he did, what sort of town would hire a man with obvious mental problems to keep the peace?
    The Kid didn’t know, but he suspected he would find out. He knew Copperhead Springs existed because he had seen it on that map, which was a recent one, as he recalled. For the same reason, he knew they were headed in the right direction to reach the settlement. The best thing to do, he decided, was to keep riding along with Tate and see what happened when they got there.
    One thing he knew was he couldn’t ride off and leave the man alone out on the prairie. The shape he was in, there was no telling what might happen to him.
    Although Tate had been plenty capable when it came to gunplay, The Kid reminded himself. He had drilled that outlaw and saved The Kid’s life.
    Obviously there were some things Tate hadn’t forgotten.
    Late that afternoon, they topped a ridge and The Kid was able to look down into a green valley watered by a narrow, meandering stream flowing from a large pool on the far side of the valley. Sunlight reflected brilliantly from the surface of the pool, which was no doubt fed by those springs. Between stomping snakes, those early settlers must have figured out a way to trap some of the flow from the springs to form the pool.
    The settlement itself lay just to the south of the springs. To the north was a beautiful parklike area. The town was good sized consisting of four main streets running parallel to each other for half a dozen blocks, with the corresponding cross streets. The Kid saw a couple church steeples, a large brick building at the edge of town that was probably the school, and some substantial-looking businesses in the downtown area.
    A nice place to live, Tate had claimed, and The Kid could believe that, at least, judging by what he saw as the two of them approached. Peaceful, Tate had called it.
    But maybe not.
    A flurry of gunshots suddenly erupted, and as the ominous crackle drifted through the late afternoon air, Tate stiffened and leaned forward in the saddle. “Trouble!” he exclaimed. “And in my town! I’ll put a stop to that!”
    Tate dropped the reins of the extra horses he’d been leading and kicked his own mount into a run, ignoring The Kid’s urgent “Marshal! Wait!”
    Too late. Whatever the trouble was, Tate was charging right into the middle of it.
    And The Kid had no real choice but to go straight after him.

Chapter 6
    The Kid dropped the reins of the pack horse and the extra saddle mount, then sent the buckskin galloping after Tate. The trail turned into the main street of Copperhead Springs. The shots were coming from the center of town.
    Tate reined in about fifty feet in front of The Kid and swung down smoothly from the saddle, his feet hitting the ground before his horse ever stopped moving. The marshal might have trouble remembering some things, but he was still mighty spry for his age.
    He had come to a halt in front of the Trailblazer Saloon, which appeared to be a large, successful establishment. By the time The Kid reined in and dismounted, Tate had bounded up the steps to the boardwalk. Gun in