Imposter by William W. Johnstone Page B

the house. “I have friends in very high places.”
    â€œI’m sure you do,” Frank replied. “Now get the hell out of the way.”
    â€œNo!” John yelled, and took a wild swing at Frank.
    Frank sidestepped, and John lost his balance and went stumbling out onto the porch, almost knocking down Doc Evans.
    â€œGood God!” the doctor yelled as John went rolling off the porch, to land in a sprawl of arms and legs on the front yard.
    Several neighbors standing outside the white picket fence started applauding at the sight.
    â€œGoddamn you all!” John hollered, sitting on his butt on the ground. “Goddamn you all to hell!”
    â€œPitiful,” Frank said, picking up a trunk. “Just plain pitiful.”

TWELVE
    It was well after dark when Frank stepped out of the hotel and rolled a smoke. He had gotten Lara settled in and all her luggage toted up to her room. John had cussed and threatened while they were at the Whitter house, but had not thrown any more punches at Frank. The lawyer was still cussing and yelling as they drove away in the buggy.
    Frank walked over to the café for supper, then lingered over a last cup of coffee while the waitress fixed a bag of scraps for Dog. With Dog fed and Stormy looked after, Frank went back to the office, sitting down at the desk, wondering if anything else was going to happen this day.
    â€œLord, I hope not,” he muttered.
    No sooner had the words left his mouth than he heard a shot, then another. Frank took a Greener from the gun rack, stuck a handful of shells into his jacket pocket, checked to see if the double-barreled sawed-off was loaded, and stepped outside.
    â€œIt come from down that alley ’crost the street, Deputy,” a local told him, pointing.
    â€œObliged,” Frank said, and stepped off the boardwalk.
    â€œI seen some Simpson hands ride into town a few minutes ago,” the local called.
    â€œThanks,” Frank called over his shoulder, and walked on into the night.
    When Frank approached the dark mouth of the alley, he moved swiftly and unexpectedly to his right, quickly stepping out of any line of fire. It was a good move, for the night was suddenly alive with gunfire, all of it coming from the darkness of the alley.
    Frank dived behind a water trough as other guns in the darkness of the alley joined in the barrage, the lead whining all around him. Frank rolled away from the trough and crawled under the raised boardwalk, crawling as fast as he could to his right, all the while staying under the protection of the boardwalk. The boardwalk narrowed down to the point where he could no longer stay under it. He rolled out just as a man stepped out of the alley, both hands filled with six-guns.
    Frank cut loose with both barrels, the buckshot catching the gunman in the belly, lifting him off his feet, and flinging him backward, almost torn in half.
    â€œGood God!” a man in the alley yelled as the wall of the building was splattered with blood.
    â€œI’m gone!” another gunslick said.
    â€œYou wait just a damn minute, Shorty!” another man said. “You ain’t goin’ nowheres. You know what the boss said.”
    â€œHell with you and the boss!” Shorty said. “I ain’t goin’ up against no Greener at close range. Look what happened to Carl layin’ over yonder. He’s blowed nearly in two. I think I’m gonna puke.”
    â€œWell, don’t puke on me.”
    â€œShut up, both of you,” a third voice was added. “Shorty, you and Ned circle around the buildin’ and see if you can get a shot at Morgan. Move!”
    â€œWhat the hell are you gonna be doin,’ Cal?” The question was thrown out of the darkness.
    â€œHoldin’ down this position,” Cal said, his voice calm. “Now you and Ned move out and let’s settle this mess.”
    Frank crawled to the edge of the building and looked into the darkness,