everyone’s attention, including Ray’s.
“Stop it, you big ape! Stop it now!” he shouted.
“Friend, that’s my brother you are pointing your gun at, and if you don’t put it down now, I’m going to kill you,” Cletus said in a low, menacing tone.
“Your brother, huh? Well, unless you want your brother killed, you’ll lower your gun,” the armed saloon patron said.
Cletus cocked his pistol. “I don’t care what you do to him. I think I’ll just kill you anyway,” he said.
“What?” the armed patron shouted, his anger turning to fear. He threw his gun down. “No! My God, no!”
The others at the table scattered, and all the rest of the saloon patrons moved quickly to get out of the way.
Suddenly, Cletus collapsed to the floor, having gone down because Billy had stepped up behind him and hit him over the head with the butt of his pistol.
“What the hell, little brother?” Ray said. “Whose side are you on?”
“Think about it, Ray,” Billy said. “If Cletus kills that fella, he’ll wind up hangin’.”
Ray nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess you are right.”
“Gentlemen, I would like to apologize for both of my brothers,” Billy said to the men at the table, though his apology extended to everyone else in the saloon at the moment. “I’m afraid they are both a little drunk.”
“They are both a lot of drunk,” one of the men who had been sitting at the table said. “Seems to me like the best thing for them would be to sleep it off in a jail cell tonight.”
Billy shook his head. “No, sir,” he said. “No, sir, I’m not going to let that happen.”
“Then will you at least get them out of here?”
Billy nodded. “Yes,” he said. “That, I will do. Ray, pick up our brother.”
With little effort, Ray picked Cletus up and threw him over his shoulder. The three brothers left the saloon, then walked across the street to the hotel where, earlier, they had taken a room.
“Is your friend all right?” the hotel clerk asked when he saw Cletus draped over Ray’s shoulder.
“He’s fine,” Billy said. “He’s just drunk.”
Billy shepherded both his brothers upstairs to the single room they had rented. Ray and Cletus fell into the one bed and, almost immediately, began snoring. Billy threw a couple of blankets out on the floor, intending to sleep there, but after tossing and turning for several minutes, it became obvious to him that sleep wasn’t coming.
Billy got up. Then, shaking his head in frustration, he sat down in a chair beside a lamp table. Turning up the lamp, Billy took out a tablet and pencil and began writing.
Billy had never shared his love of writing poetry with anyone in his family. More importantly, he had not shared with anyone his feelings for Kathleen Garrison.
Chapter Eight
Falcon MacCallister had been on the train for the better part of sixteen hours. With his knees jammed up against the seat in front, his arms folded across his chest, and his hat down over his eyes, he’d tried to sleep, but sleep had been sporadic at best.
It was just after eight o’clock the next morning when the train stopped in Pueblo. There, three young cowboys got on. It was obvious they had been drinking all night long, and in fact they were still drinking because one of them was carrying a bottle.
As Falcon examined them more closely, though, he decided that they weren’t cowboys after all. At least, they weren’t cowboys working for twenty dollars and found, for these young men were all wearing clothes that were well cut and well sewn. All three had fine Stetson hats encircled by silver hatbands, and one of them was wearing a gunbelt with two pearl-handled pistols.
“Well now, lookie here,” the one with a bottle said. “All these folks are asleep. What do you say we wake them up and invite them to a little party?”
“Shhh,” the youngest one said. “Cletus, let’s just find a seat and settle down somewhere.”
“Listen to Billy, will you, Ray?” Cletus said. “You know, I’m worried about that boy. He don’t know how to have fun.”
“Ray, Pa sent us over here to get a price on our cows, not to get drunk and raise hell.”
