Gambling Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

hit someone. “So your uncle taught you a lot of things, did he?”
    Jeff didn't like the look on his pa's face. He wasn't smiling now. He looked grim and almost angry.
    “Well,” Nathan said, “here's something I'll bet he never taught you. Do you see that glistening stone across the creek, just at the edge of the cottonwood shade?”
    Puzzled, Jeff nodded. The stone looked about the size of a buggy hub.
    Nathan Blaine's hand moved almost faster than the eye could follow. As if by magic, his Colt's .45 jumped from his holster to his hand. The revolver exploded twice in quick succession, and Jeff stared dumbly as the glistening rock on the other side of the creek leaped into the air like a frightened cottontail.
    Nathan's dark eyes were blazing as he wheeled to face his son. “Your Uncle Wirt never taught you to do a thing like that, did he?”
    Jeff swallowed hard. He discovered that his voice was missing; he could make no sound. He shook his head.
    “I didn't think so,” his pa said proudly. “You don't see shooting like that around Plainsville, do you?”
    Still dumb, Jeff shook his head again.
    “Well, where I've been you have to learn to shoot that way or you don't stay alive.” His mouth was not so grim now, and some of the fire left his eyes. He laughed shortly. “I didn't scare you, did I?”
    At the very bottom of his stomach Jeff found his voice. “No. It didn't scare me a bit!”
    “That's good,” his pa said. “I'd hate to think a Blaine let himself be scared by a little noise.”
    It seemed to Jeff that he could still hear the sound of those shots rolling through the cottonwoods. It had not sounded like the cowhands shooting off their guns as they raced their horses through Plainsville. This had been sudden. And there had been no laughter to go with it.
    “One of these days,” Nathan told his son, “I'll show you how it's done. Let me see your hands.”
    Jeff held out his hands, and his pa whistled softly. “Good and big. That's good. You need big hands to squeeze the butt and catch the hammer.” He held the revolver out to the boy, butt first. “Would you like to try it?”
    Jeff blinked in disbelief. He had seen guns all his life, of course, but he had never had a chance to hold one.
    “You mean I can shoot it?”
    “Sure.” His pa laughed. “Go on, take it.”
    Eagerly, Jeff reached for the revolver. Then, with the suddenness of lightning, the revolver blurred in Nathan Blaine's hand and the butt smacked into his palm. Hammer cocked, the muzzle snapped into position directly in front of Jeff's startled eyes.
    Jeff had never known pure terror before that moment, with the muzzle so close to his nose that he could smell the burned powder, could feel the heat of the smoking barrel. He felt the blood drain from his face.
    Nathan Blaine said, “The muzzle of a gun is not a pretty thing to look into, is it?”
    His voice was deadly serious as he lowered the revolver. “Well, that's the first lesson a man has to learn, Jeff, if he wants to stay alive. Don't let yourself get in a position like that again.”
    Nathan held the revolver as he had before, by the barrel, upside down, butt extended forward. With one finger hooked in the trigger guard, he gave the gun a flip with his other fingers and wrist. The butt snapped into his palm and the hammer came back on the crook of his thumb at the same moment, and the gun was ready to fire.
    “That's called the road agents' spin by some,” Nathan said. “It's sudden death in any language. There's only one way to disarm a man, and that's to make him drop his gun to the ground. When a gunshark makes to hand you his gun, even when it's butt first, you're just a split second away from death.”
    Jeff cleared his throat. “I'll—I'll remember.”
    “I know you will.” Nathan Blaine smiled quietly. “Do you still want to try it?”
    Jeff stared at his father as though he had never seen him before. The boy was not afraid of him, but he understood that