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I walked so close to the robber I'd arrested that I could smell his breath and the reek of his fear-sweat. "I'm gonna send Davis for the doctor, but I want you to think of something. I didn't go in to kill your pardner. Wade Dagget killed him at Bigbee's orders for a chance at me. And to keep him quiet."
I turned to the deputy. "Davis, you up to fetching the doc?"
He grinned around a cup. "Lemme git around this coffee and I'll go." He sipped and stared at the cup. "Gawd, who made this stuff?"
"Me. Way I always make it, 'round a camp fire." Specially when I hadn't slept for three days running from an angry posse. I didn't mention that.
"Tasted good to me," Bradley said. "You must be someone I know of."
I said, "You must have interesting friends."
"I'm going for the doctor," said Davis. "This stuff will kill me."
He opened the door. "Damn. Ty, step out here."
I grabbed a shotgun and slipped out. At Rosie's Place, the JB Connected boys were mounting up, but glances were being thrown along the street toward us. "Get inside," I told him.
Whooping and yelling, they came up the street fast, right at us. Guns fired into the air. In a minute someone was gonna break a window, or shoot someone, maybe hit a bystander.
They drew closer, and after what I'd just done, I figured to be the favored target. I pushed Davis backward, out of the way.
When the wild riders were close enough, I let off the shotgun into the dirt in front of their horses, one barrel, shifted a mite, then the other.
My, you never saw such a bunch of dancing, bucking, twisting, jumping mounts in your born life. The riders were much too busy hanging on to take anyshots at the office or me. They went on out of town at a gallop, some of them barely hanging on. For the first time in a long time, I actually grinned.
Bradley came out and stood beside me, one arm bandaged and hanging, but not in a sling, a rifle in the other. He chuckled. "Damn, fer a dressed up dude, you surely know how to entertain a man."
Killdeere style. Saw Uncle Jake use it on a posse once in a narrow pass through some hills. Davis and Bradley would've got a kick outta the story. However, I didn't choose to tell it.