Collection 1983 - The Hills Of Homicide (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Page B

midsection. Bill took it with a grunt and threw a left that Kip slipped, countering with a right cross that split Bill’s eye.
    “A boxer, huh?”
    He caught Kip with a glancing left, then closed. The big man’s arms went around him, and his chin dug into Kip’s shoulder as the larger man began pressing him back.
    Morgan got one hand free and hooked to Bill’s ear, then chopped a blow to the man’s kidney with the edge of his hand. He jerked, trying to worm to one side, then kicked up his feet and fell.
    The move caught the bigger man by surprise and sent him sprawling, clawing air for support. Kip was on his feet and coming up when the fat man hit him. He felt blood stream into his eyes, but he caught the fat man by the belt, jerked him forward, then shot him back with all the force of his arm.
    The fat man hit the table and fell just as Kip turned to see Bill swinging a chair at him. He dropped to one knee, and the force of Bill’s rush carried him over Kip’s back to the floor.
    Kip got up then, pawing blood from his eyes. This was his dish. Several years on the waterfronts and working with circus roughneck gangs had prepared him for it. He got the blood out of his eyes, and as the fat man started to rise, he kicked him in the neck. If they wanted trouble, they could have it.
    Bill was on his feet, and when Kip looked around, he was looking into Bill’s gun. Kip never stopped moving. When the gun went off, he felt the sting of powder on his face, and the roar filled his ears; but the bullet missed, and then Kip swung a right, low down, for Bill’s stomach. He was coming in with the punch, and it sank to the wrist bone.
    The gun flew into the air, and Bill started to fall. Kip grabbed him, thrust him against the wall with his left, and hit him three times in the stomach with all the power he could muster. Then he stepped back and hit him in the face with both hands.
    Bill slumped to a sitting position, bloody and battered. Kip glanced quickly at the fat man. He was lying on the floor, groaning. Morgan grabbed Bill and hoisted him into a chair.
    “All right, talk!” Morgan’s breath was coming in gasps. “Talk or I start punching!”
    Bill’s head rolled back, but he lifted a hand. “Don’t! I’ll talk! The money…it was in an envelope. The bartender at the Casino gave it to me. There was a note. Said to get you, make you tell who you worked for, and we’d get another five hundred.”
    “If you’re lyin’,” Kip said, “I’ll come lookin’ for you!”
    “If you do, you’d better pack a heater! I’ll have one!”
    Kip took up his battered hat and put it on his head, then retrieved his gun as he was going out and thrust it into his shoulder holster.
    He stepped outside and looked around. He had been in a shanty in the country. Where town was he did not know. Where—
    The shot sounded an instant after he heard the angry whip of a bullet past his ear. As he dropped, he heard the roar of a motor. Instantly, he was on his feet, gun in hand, running to the road. He was just in time to see a car whip around a corner and vanish up the highway. Without a glance back, he started after it, walking over the rutted country road.
    On the highway, he shoved the gun back in its holster and straightened his clothing. Pulling his tie around, he drew the knot back into place and stuffed his shirt back into his pants. Gingerly, he felt of his face. One eye was swollen, and there was blood on his face from a cut on his scalp. Wiping it away with his handkerchief, he started up the road. He had gone but a short distance when a car swung alongside him.
    “Want a lift?” a cheery voice sang out.
    He got in gratefully, and the driver stared at him. He was a big, sandy-haired man with a jovial face.
    “What happened to you? Accident?”
    “Not really. It was done on purpose.”
    “Lucky I happened along. You’re in no shape to walk. Better get into town and file a report.” He drove on a little way. “What