Death Rides the Night Read Online Free PDF

reasonably, “I reckon it’s likely you’ll want the namin’ of the new sheriff.” He reached up and unpinned the star from his shirt. “I won’t be standin’ in yore way none.” He dropped the silver badge on the table in front of Harlow.
    â€œDon’t you do it, Pat.” Winters was on his feet instantly, and from behind him came a low murmur of disapproval. But it was a low murmur and came from scattered throats throughout the crowded benches. There were probably thirty men in the room. Pat knew that more than half of them were in Harlow’s debt in one way or another, and all those had all their hands with them. He had an idea how the voting would go if it was put to a test.
    He shook his head at Winters and said, “You an’ me ain’t been free enough loanin’ our money out. I reckon Harlow’s got this game sewed up the way he wants it, an’ I don’t embarrass my neighbors by making ’em go on record votin’ against me. I’ve done resigned the sheriffin’ job, so you-all pin the star on anybody you want.” He turned and strode down the hall and out the door.
    Sam Sloan and Ezra followed him out angrily, and Boyd and Winters went after them. Other men got up and went out silently, until less than twenty remained. They sat on the benches silently, not looking at each other nor saying anything.
    Harlow waited until the last man had gone, leaning against the table with a grim smile on his lips. When he was sure the defection was complete he said, “It looks as though we could get down to business now without having any more trouble. I suggest we pin this star on Tex and pay him fifty dollars a month. He’s a stranger in the Valley and won’t play favorites. And if he needs any deputies he can call them off my ranch any time he wants. Anybody got a better idea?”
    Nobody offered a better idea. Eustis Harlow pinned the silver badge of office on the Texas gun-hand and the ranchers shambled out awkwardly into the night.

4
    Pat Stevens stood alone at the end of the bar in the Gold Eagle Saloon with an uncorked bottle of whisky and a half-full glass in front of him. He grinned wryly as Sam and Ezra hurried in, followed by John Boyd and Mr. Winters. He lifted his glass in mock salute and called to the bartender, “Set out four more glasses. These hombres will be drinkin’ out of my bottle.”
    Sam Sloan stopped in front of him with his elbows angled out from hairy hands planted on his hips. “Hell of uh way fer a growed man tuh act,” he growled disgustedly. “Turnin’ in yore badge without a fight.”
    Pat lifted his glass and drank from it as. though he hadn’t a care in the world. “I reckon I’ll get drunk,” he murmured pensively. “Plumb, dead, skunk drunk. I can do it now I’m not sheriff no more.” His gaze challenged the worried faces of his four friends. “You’ll never know what a weight that there badge was to me,” he sighed. “Stayin’ sober an’ setting an example for the rest of the town. Shore has cramped my style.”
    The bartender set out four more glasses and filled them from the bottle of whisky. Each of the men took a glass and didn’t say anything. They all knew Pat was talking through his hat. He had never been a drinking man. He was just pretending the sheriff’s star had kept him sober, to keep them from knowing how badly he hated to give it up.
    Other men began drifting into the saloon. They were the friends of Pat’s who had left the meeting immediately after he walked out. They glanced down at the group of five at the end of the bar but remained separated from them out of a feeling of delicacy, not wanting to intrude on the close friends at this moment.
    Winters watched them coming in and muttered angrily, “Dang it all, I reckon there’s nobody left at the meeting by this time except Harlow