Hunt Angel! (A Frank Angel Western #5) Read Online Free PDF Page A

already ported
the carbine, and Red-Shirt had re-holstered the six-gun in the
strangely canted holster at his side. Angel walked the horse back
up Front Street, heading for the hotel. As he got level with Texas
Street, he saw Ridlow standing on the sidewalk gesticulating
violently to a tall, contained-looking man whose right arm was in a
bandana sling and whose six-gun was stuck in his waistband on the
right-hand side for a cross-draw. The marshal, Angel told himself.
He swung down from the roan outside the jail.
    ‘ Here, Frank!’ Ridlow turned
toward him. ‘You know what happened?’
    ‘ Some jaspers stopped you leaving
town,’ Angel said.
    ‘ Aw,’ Ridlow said, disappointed at
not being able to voice his disgust again for Angel’s benefit.
‘Yo’re damned tootin’ they did. An’ I wanna know what in thunder’s
going on. Oh, Dan Sheridan, marshal o’ this place, Frank. This’s
Frank Angel, Dan.’
    Sheridan nodded an acknowledgment of the introduction
He had dark shadows beneath his eyes. Pain? A sleepless night?
Both, perhaps, Angel thought.
    ‘ Them Hugess boys got this town
locked up tighter’n a rattler’s ass, Dan,’ Ridlow continued. ‘What
you aimin’ to do about ‘er?’ He awaited Sheridan’s reply with a
belligerent expression on his face. It turned to sour disgust as
Sheridan answered with a shrug.
    ‘ Shee-hit, boy, you can’t just let
Hugess take over yore town!’ Ridlow snapped.
    ‘ Got any suggestions, Nathan?’ the
marshal asked mildly. His thought seemed to be elsewhere, as though
he was merely being pleasantly polite to Ridlow.
    ‘ Wal,’ Ridlow said. He let loose a
burst of tobacco juice that soared halfway across the street
and splatted in
the shifting dust. ‘Reckon mebbe me an’ my boys better pitch in an’
help you out, some. Haw!’
    For the first time decision came
into Sheridan’s eyes. He shook his head, frowning down on the old
man.
    ‘ Thanks, Nathan, but no. No way.
You and your boys keep out of this!’
    ‘ Hell, Sheridan,’ Ridlow snapped.
‘You need all the help you can git!’
    ‘ No offense,’ Sheridan said.
‘Nathan, how good are you with a gun?’
    ‘ Wal,’ Ridlow said ‘Haw!’ He let
go with another splatter of cud. ‘If n yo’re askin’ me whether I’m
a gunfighter or not, boy, wal - haw! I ain’t!’
    ‘ I can’t recall I ever saw you
carrying a pistol, Nathan.’
    ‘ Wal, shoot, boy, I know what end
to point! Haw!’
    ‘ You good enough to go up against
Willie, Nathan? Willie Johns?’
    ‘ Aw, hell,’ Ridlow said. ‘You know
damned well ain’t nobody goin’ to go up agin’ that snake-hipped
sonofabitch, Sheridan!’
    ‘ Willie Johns,’ Angel said. ‘Is he
a thickset fellow, medium height, heavy stubble, wears his guns
kind of tilted, so?’
    ‘ That’s him,’ Sheridan said,
looking at Angel and seeing him for the first time.
‘Why?’
    ‘ Nothing,’ Angel said. ‘I think I
just met him. He gave me a demonstration of how fast he can pull a
six-gun.’
    ‘ Tell your friend here,’ Sheridan
said heavily. ‘Maybe he’ll believe you. Me, I already know how fast
friend Johns is.’ He turned back to face Nathan Ridlow.
    ‘ So you just keep your nose clean,
Nathan,’ he said. ‘You pitch into this, you’d be just one more for
me to look out for. And I’ve got all the problems I can
use.’
    ‘ Hell, I guess yo’re right, Dan,’
Nathan Ridlow said. Just goes an’ sticks in my craw that th’only
backup you got is that boozehead.’
    As he spoke, Howie Cade came to the
door of the jail. there was no way he could not have heard what
Ridlow said, but the old man didn’t back up one inch. He glared at
Howie as though he was daring him to take offense at what was the
plain truth for any eye to see. Indeed, Howie Cade looked like
something that had been chawed on and spat out. His cloths were
ragged, filthy. He needed a shave and a haircut and a bath, not
necessarily in that order. His hands were shaky, and his