Find Angel! (A Frank Angel Western #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

cowboy’s
blood.
    ‘ No
it ain’t, sonny!’ someone snarled.
    Angel
whirled around.
    There
was a Texas cowboy near the bar, his hand curled above the butt of
a six-shooter nestling low on his right hip in a cutaway
holster.
    ‘ You
got five seconds to say a prayer, pilgrim,’ the cowboy said, ‘And
then I’m gonna shoot your balls off!’

Chapter Five
    ‘ Don’t touch that gun, cowboy!’
    Every
head in the place turned towards the voice.
    Many
of them knew its nasal tone already, and those who did not
certainly knew its owner. Hickok stood in the doorway, his hands
hooked in the red sash, his forearms holding back the opened frock
coat. The ivory-handled Colts were ready, jutting
forward.
    ‘ Hickok, this ain’t none o’ your say-so!’ the cowboy said.
‘This is atween me an’ the kid here!’
    ‘ I’d
normally say you were right,’ Hickok said, his voice level and
unruffled. ‘However, I happen to know the boy isn’t heeled. Which
would make shootin’ him murder, which in turn would make it some o’
my say-so. Now: you still anxious to pull that iron?’
    His
eyes narrowed slightly, and he braced his feet slightly apart. For
a long, long moment the cowboy glared at him, his hand poised near
the cutaway holster.
    Then,
with an oath, he turned away and put both hands palm down on the
bar. Hickok nodded, and came into the saloon, easing neatly along
the bar with his back to it until he came level with the cowboy. He
lifted the man’s gun from the holster and tossed it to a shorter,
thickset man near the door who wore a badge.
    ‘ Take
him along, Mike,’ he said.
    The
deputy nodded and gestured with the man’s gun, which he cocked
ostentatiously. Hickok heeled back towards the door using that
curious motion which precluded anyone’s getting around in back of
him. He pushed the cowboy in front of him.
    ‘ Don’t shove me, dammit!’ snarled the cowboy. ‘I ain’t no
whore you can hustle!’
    There
was a quick sound of indrawn breath as the man uttered the words.
It was one thing to call a man like Hickok a pimp behind his back,
quite another to do it to his face. Hickok’s face went
white.
    ‘ You
want to back that up, outside?’ he hissed.
    ‘ I
ain’t goin’ up against you, Hickok!’ the cowboy shouted. ‘One o’
these days us Texicans’ll get together an’ wipe you
out!’
    ‘ But
not today,’ Hickok said quietly. Nobody saw his hands move yet
suddenly there was a flash of light as he drew one of the
ivory-handled six-guns and whipped it alongside the cowboy’s head.
The man fell as if pole-axed; and Hickok whirled in one fluid
movement to face the crowded room.
    ‘ Any
more o’ you Texicans want in on this?’ he said.
    He
used the word Texicans like some foul insult.
    Nobody moved.
    Hickok nodded, and then said to Angel, who was still standing
by the wrecked table, ‘You better get out o’ here,
sonny.’
    ‘ When
I’m through,’ Angel said doggedly.
    Hickok smiled. ‘Come see me,’ he said, and then gestured
brusquely at some of the bystanders. They lifted the two fallen
Texans roughly and carted them out through the doors. When they had
gone a clamor of shouts for drinks, some ribald shouts and jeers
broke loose. No one came near Angel, who sat down in the chair next
to the saloon girl and pulled it close to her.
    She
looked at him with wide eyes.
    ‘ You’re a right one, aren’t you?’ she said, coyly.
    ‘ Ma’am?’
    ‘ You
don’t look much more than a baby,’ she cooed. ‘Yet you’re … ’ she
leaned over and squeezed his biceps. ‘Oooh,’ she said.
    ‘ Listen,’ Angel said. ‘I want to ask you about a man called
Milt.’
    ‘ Oooh, ducky,’ she giggled. ‘You don’t look the
type.’
    A
bottle and glass was plonked on the table by a passing
waiter.
    ‘ I
don’t — ’ Angel began.
    ‘ — you got to buy me a drink, dearie,’ the girl said. ‘House
rules.’
    He
shrugged and she poured him a sizable slug of whiskey. He felt her
hand go to