mind.â
âWhy, you
son of a bitch
! Thatâs it!
Iâm killing him!
â Bugs shouted. He leaped at the doctorâs throat with both hands out, fingers spread like talons. Wes caught him in midair. The doctor stood rigid, staring.
âNo, Bugs!â Wes shouted, holding the young gunman back while trying to stop laughing. âHe didnât lie to us. We took it wrong. Settle down before we crack your head. We canât have this.â
Rubens stepped over with his Colt out, the butt raised for a hard swipe if Wes gave him the word.
Seeing the big gun butt looming, Bugs calmed down. He wiped a hand over his mouth and breathed deep.
âAll right, Iâm done with it,â he said. But he still stared hard and cold at the doctor.
Wes turned Bugs loose, holding up a warning finger toward him. Then he faced the doctor.
âDoctor, I hope youâre not thinking that my brother might end up being one of your research cadavers,â he said, the laughter gone, a grim look on his face.
âIâm not thinking it,â the doctor said. âBut thatâs exactly the sort of attitude Iâd have to contend with if knowledge of my research were made public.â
The others looked at him with blank expressions.
âI understand,â Wes said, easing back as the doctor walked away down the hall toward the room where Ty lay sleeping.
Rubens walked over and handed Wes the bottle of rye. Wes took a drink and passed it to Bugs. The two outlaws watched as Bugs took a long deep drink of rye and let out a whiskey hiss. He sloshed the rye around in the bottle, ready for another swig.
âFeeling better, Bugs?â Wes asked.
âYeah, a hell of a lot,â Bugs replied, raising the bottle halfway to his mouth.
Wes and Rubens looked him up and down.
âWhat?â Bugs asked, seeing something was on their minds.
âTwo-handed
Parcheesi
?â Wes asked.
The rye was calming him, and instead of flying off angry, Bugs just chuffed grudgingly, then took another swig and finally laughed with them.
âWhat the hell else could I say?â he offered.
Before either man could answer, the rear door creaked open and the three looked down the hallway, guns out and cocked as a black silhouette stepped in through the rear door.
âItâs me, Carter,â said Claypool in a lowered voice. âThis would be an easy place to rob.â
The three relaxed, their guns lowered as Claypool walked down the hallway to them. Seeing the bottle, he held out a hand.
âIâll have a shot, unless this is a private party,â he said, taking the bottle. âI saw nobody standing guard out back, I heard you laughing, I eased on in. Whatâs so funny?â he asked.
âYou had to be here and see it,â Wes said.
âI saw it from an alley across the street,â said Claypool. âI come looking from one end of town to the next for the doctorâs house. I saw Bugs out there with his hands in the air. Lucky I didnât start shooting.â He took a drink and passed the bottle to Bugs.
âFor a minute there I wish you had,â Bugs said.
âHowâs the trail?â Wes asked.
âNot good,â said Claypool. âThatâs why Iâm here. The posse went on just like we thought they would. But weâve got a lawman on us.â He paused, then added, âFatch Hardaway is riding with him.â
âHardaway? Damn him!â Rubens cursed.
âDid you recognize the lawman?â Wes asked.
âRanger Burrack, out of Nogales, unless Iâm mistaken,â said Claypool. âI recognized him in a lantern lightâmostly I recognized his sombrero.â He looked at Wes closely. âHowâs Ty coming along?â he asked.
âLetâs go see for ourselves,â said Wes, turning to the hallway. âThe doctor says with any luck we can leave come morning.â
âI make the Ranger and Hardaway
John Jakes
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