'Why would he be comin' here?' a customer asked.
'Probably to try me,' Frank said. 'He's a gun-happy kid looking for a reputation.
'He's already killed five or six men,' said the man who brought the news. 'Maybe more than that.'
'About that,' Frank said. 'Wounded two, three more. He's quick, so I hear.'
Jerry had a worried look. 'Moran is young and fast, Frank.'
Frank smiled. 'And I'm older and faster, Jerry. But maybe it won't come to that. We'll see.' Frank picked up his coffee cup and drank the last couple of swallows. Then he walked toward the door.
'Frank,' Angie called.
With his hand on the door handle, Frank cut his eyes.
'It might be a setup,' she said.
'Might be, Angie. We'll see.' Frank stepped out onto the boardwalk and looked up the street. The Kid was still there, sitting his horse. Frank leaned against a support post and waited for The Kid to make the first move.
Kid Moran spotted Frank and began slowly walking his horse toward the center of town. Frank got his first good look ever at the young man with the growing reputation as a gunslick. The Kid was of average height and weight, and slender built.
As he drew closer, Frank could see only two things that were menacing about the Kid: the matched pair of .45's belted around his waist. But Frank also knew that some people saw beauty in a scorpion, a tarantula, and a rattlesnake.
Kid Moran was as deadly as they came, Frank knew, and he also knew that The Kid was lightning fast.
The Kid rode slowly toward Frank. He touched the brim of his hat and smiled at Frank as he rode past. _More of a smirk than a smile_, Frank thought as he held up one hand in return greeting.
He watched The Kid rein in at a hitch rail in front of the general store and dismount. Frank decided against going over to the store ... at least not yet. He did not want to provoke an incident with The Kid. Frank felt The Kid would try him, sooner or later.
Conrad Browning walked up the boardwalk -- Frank had not seen him cross the street -- and stopped just to Frank's left. 'Good morning, Marshal Morgan.'
''Mornin', Conrad. You always up this early?'
'Always. I like to open up the office for mother. It's just one less thing for her to do.'
'Very conscientious of you.'
'Marshal? May I ask you a question?'
'Sure.'
'Sometimes you speak as if you had attended some sort of institution of higher education. Other times you don't. Why is that?'
Frank smiled at the question. 'I read a lot, Conrad. I always have at least one book in my saddlebags. I enjoy reading.'
'I see. Who is your favorite author?'
'I don't think I have one. A while back I did get interested in this fellow Plato. He has quite a way with words.'
'Plato? Ummm. Yes, I would say he does.'
Hal was across the street, watching Conrad as he chatted with Frank. Jimmy and Hal were taking no chances, figuring that if the outlaws couldn't grab Vivian they might try for her son. Kid Moran was still inside the general store.
'Who is that young man that just rode into town, Marshal?' Conrad asked. 'He seems to be of great interest to you.'
'A gunfighter. Calls himself Kid Moran.'
'Kid Moran. How quaint. He appears to be still in his teen years.'
'He's about twenty, I reckon. But he's shot more than his share of men.'
'Why?'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Why did he shoot them?'
'I reckon 'cause he wanted to. Trying to build himself a reputation as a gunslick.'
'And that's important out here?'
Again, Frank smiled. 'Well ... it is to some folks, Conrad.'
'Sort of like being the town bully, I suppose.'
Frank nodded his head. 'Yes, that's a very good way of putting it.'
'But with a gun.'
'Yes.'
