The Desperate Deputy of Cougar Hill Read Online Free PDF Page A

had no desire to make. He had the sensation of playing a game of chess against an expert. And yet it was impossible to believe that Rafe Arker was capable of planning one move ahead, let alone a half dozen.
    Cameron took a backward step. “Take those guns,” he ordered the barkeep. They disappeared from the bartop and Cameron holstered his own weapon. He unbuckled his belt and let it drop to the floor. Pushing it aside with a foot, he took off his hat and sailed it on top of the gun and belt. Each move was made slowly and deliberately.
    “It’s time you learned what the law is,” Cameron said softly.
    And now it was Arker’s turn to hesitate. Clearly he had not expected Cameron to accept his challenge, to meet him in hand-to-hand combat. Surprise flickered into his eyes and then drained away, letting the contempt appear again.
    “That’s an old trick,” he rumbled. “After I whip you, the marshal hauls me to jail for resisting a law officer.”
    Cameron’s answer was to unpin the star from his vest and to drop it into the crown of his hat. Again Arker showed momentary surprise. Then he laughed.
    Cameron stood quietly. Again he was waiting for the signal that would tell him Arker was going to make his move. This time Cameron expected a bull rush, an attempt to catch him in those thick arms — a catch-as-catch-can, no-holds-barred kind of wrestling that would let Arker take full advantage of his size and weight.
    The street door opened. Momentarily all eyes turned in that direction. Cameron followed suit, wanting to make sure that this was not a threat aimed at his unprotected back.
    The sight of the man quietly closing the door behind himself was a shock that froze Cameron, briefly blotting out everything else around him. The slim, sharply chiseled features with the long upper lip, the widow’s peak of black hair coming off a high forehead, the sardonic glint in the black eyes — these Cameron could never have forgotten.
    Sax Larabee! And Cameron knew that the ghost of the long dead past had come to life. The memories he had sought so long to bury were no longer memories. They were reality.
    The sound of a foot scuffing on bare boards jerked Cameron around. Arker was coming toward him. He moved his huge bulk with surprising speed, and not as Cameron expected in a bull rush, but lightly, on his toes like a boxer. Before Cameron could shift his full attention from Sax Larabee to Arker, the big man was on him.
    Cameron stepped back, but not quickly enough. Arker drove out his left fist, slamming rock-hard knuckles against Cameron’s temple. He felt the skin peel back and the force of the blow sent him off balance. He staggered against a table and crashed with it to the floor. He rolled and came to his knees.
    Close by, Jupe Dondee laughed with deep pleasure. Cameron staggered to his feet, shaking his head. Rafe Arker was a blur filling the cleared space between the bar and the tables. Cameron stayed where he was, sucking in air, fighting to clear the mist from in front of his eyes. Another minute, he thought, and he would be able to see again; he would be free of the paralysis gripping his muscles.
    Then Jupe Dondee laughed a second time. Cameron felt hands against his back, felt himself pushed roughly forward to where Rafe Arker waited. He saw Arker’s grin swim at him through a reddish haze. He saw the big fist driving for his face. He caught the blow on the forearm, reacting by instinct. At the same time he pivoted to avoid the body blow that should follow that first fist. He felt the jar of bone against his arm and felt the wind of Arker’s other fist as it slid past his belt buckle. Then his senses cleared.
    Arker had thrown both punches hard, driving them with his legs as well as his shoulders as he sought for the quick kill, and so he was leaning slightly forward, a hairline off balance. And now it was Cameron’s turn. He stepped in and hit Arker twice, under the eye and across the bridge of the nose. He