The Reckoning by Len Levinson Page B

You won't regret it, I promise.”
    The door was opened by a man with a long horsey face. “May I help you.”
    Duane removed his hat and smiled. “Sorry to disturb you, but I wonder if you could tell me where I might find a cat.”
    The man raised his eyebrows. “Got a rat problem?”
    â€œReal big ones—like this.” Duane held out his hands to show the average measurement of the beasts he'd seen in the bunkhouse.
    â€œMrs. Phipps's cat just had a litter of kittens, but they couldn't handle a rat of that size. Don't believe I've ever seen you before. Who are you?”

    â€œDuane Braddock. I work for the Bar T.”
    The man snapped his fingers. “Duane Braddock? Why, I'm supposed to marry you tomorrow morning!” He shook Duane's hand vigorously. “I'm Parson Jones.”
    â€œI guess you haven't heard that the wedding has been called off,” Duane replied. “My bride-to-be has decided to marry somebody else.”
    Parson Jones blinked in disbelief “You poor boy—how you must be suffering. Is there any comfort that I can provide? Perhaps we can pray together.”
    â€œIf you really want to help me, you'll tell me where I can find a cat.”
    â€œI don't know of any cats, but there's a stray dog that's been roaming around here, with his ribs showing. He came in from the range one day last week, looking more dead than alive. I'd say that he could kill a rat if he put his mind to it. Just offer him something to eat, and maybe you can convince him to go back to the ranch with you.”
    The crew from the Circle K rode into Shelby, led by Jay Krenshaw. They climbed down from their saddles before the general store, and Jay noticed Bar T brands on some of the horses lined at the rails. He was certain that Duane Braddock was there, and then the fun would begin.
    Jay had been thinking about Braddock all week, cursing himself for not whipping him when he'd had the chance. Meanwhile, his men crowded around, because they knew that a brawl was coming. Theylooked at Jay, who said, “Let's do it.”
    The men from the Circle K swept into the saloon, looking for Duane Braddock. They advanced across the crowded little room and gathered together at the bar.
    â€œGuess he ain't here yet,” said Reade, a note of disappointment in his voice.
    â€œThen we'll wait fer ‘im,” Jay replied.
    Duane couldn't understand how Vanessa could be his woman on Monday, and somebody else's Saturday. He was on his way back to the general store, the gunny sack slung over his shoulder. He felt as if his blood had turned to sludge, and his shoulders drooped as he came to the main street. Soldiers and cowboys could be seen, passing bottles of white lightning. They held loud conversations, with much wild gesticulations, but a few were sprawled on the ground, drooling onto the dirt.
    Don Jordan detached himself from the crowd and headed toward Duane. “Jay Krenshaw and his boys are in the general store, and I think they're looking for you.”
    Duane knew that he should jump onto Thunderbolt and ride out of town immediately, but couldn't move his feet backward. Heartsick, demoralized, catless, he didn't want to fight the Fourth Calvary, but the Circle K might do.
    Jordan gazed with trepidation toward the front door of the general store. “I wouldn't wait around too long if I was you.”
    Just then the door opened, and Jay Krenshawappeared, accompanied by Reade, followed by his other cowboys.
    â€œThere's still time,” said Jordan. “Let's get a move on, pardner.”
    Duane shook out the fingers of his right hand and felt the wild sensation of mortal combat. Jay Krenshaw gazed hatefully at him for a few seconds, then Jay stepped forward. Duane knew that a fight was coming, and got set. It could be guns, knives, fists, but he was ready to roll. Jay promenaded closer, and glanced coldly at Duane. “Remember me?”
    â€œI never forget an