Showdown by William W. Johnstone Page A

Raven shook his head. “Let me prowl around some. I want to talk with Maxwell about this. For some reason, he’s been avoiding me since they got here. It might be on account of Wilma. But I’ll force a conversation with him.”
    â€œMaybe then you’ll get around to telling me what this is all about,” Frank said, a sarcastic edge to his voice.
    â€œOh, I will, Frank,” Doc Raven said with a smile. “You can be assured of that.”
    â€œThanks so much, Doc.”
    â€œYou’re certainly welcome.” He picked up his cup and took a sip. “Good coffee.”
    â€œI like it a mite stronger than this,” Bob said.
    â€œI’m gettin’ damn tarred of steppin’ over Slim,” a man said. “Come on, some of you boys give me a hand and we’ll toss him out the back.”
    â€œOh, hell, I’ll hep you,” another gunny said. “We can’t leave him there for long. He’ll commence to stinkin’. You grab one end, I’ll git the other. One of you boys open the back door for us, will you?”
    â€œWhat lovely people,” Doc Raven muttered.
    â€œIn a different way, them damn rich Easterners ain’t no better,” Bob opined.
    â€œI have to concur with that,” Doc Raven said. “In fact, I’ll add they’re worse. Maxwell and his friends all have fine educations that, in the end, seem to have been wasted.”
    â€œWe got some families here in town that’s moving out for the time bein’,” Bob said. “They’re goin’ to visit friends in the country till this mess in town is straightened out.”
    â€œTo hell with you, Nichols!” a gunslick yelled, silencing the conversation in the saloon. “I’ve had your damn smart mouth!”
    â€œThen do something ’bout it, Jake!” Nichols yelled back, pushing back his chair and standing up. “Git up and fill your hand.”
    â€œSettle down, boys,” another gunhand said. “This damn waitin’ is gettin’ to us all.”
    â€œYou go right straight to hell, Quinn,” Jake said.
    â€œDon’t tell me to go to hell, you two-bit horse thief,” Quinn responded.
    â€œTake it easy, boys,” Dolan said from a table in the rear of the saloon. “All of you. We didn’t come here to shoot each other.”
    â€œWell, shootin’ Morgan seems to be out of the question,” another gun-handler piped up. “I ain’t gonna be the one to put lead in no damn federal marshal. So what do we do now?”
    That question settled in the brains of all the men in the saloon. Quinn, Jake, and Nichols looked sheepishly at each other and sat down. Dolan stood up and walked over to stand at the bar beside Morgan.
    â€œHow do you want to play this, Morgan?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t think it’s up to me to decide that,” Frank replied. “That’s a decision you men will have to make.”
    â€œI think this was a mess from the git-go,” Dolan said. “I thought about it long and hard ’fore I saddled up for the ride.”
    â€œYou think you should have stayed at home?”
    â€œI do, for a fact.”
    â€œBut now you believe it’s too late?”
    â€œI didn’t say that, Morgan. But I’ll tell you this. That badge you’re wearin’ don’t mean squat to me. If that thousands of dollars of bounty money is really up for your head, I’ll take my chances on collectin’ it.”
    â€œBut you have doubts about it being real?”
    â€œI’m beginnin’ to, yeah. Somethin’ smells funny about this deal. And I just flat don’t like them damn Easterners.”
    â€œThey seem to be laying low, don’t they?”
    â€œYeah, that’s for sure. I’m gonna nose around and find out ’bout this thing, Morgan. And if it’s on the up and up, I’m comin’ for