“Not yet, you aren’t,” Longarm said between clenched teeth as he sledged a punch to Buck’s ribs that doubled the giant up in pain. Then, grabbing Buck’s right arm and raising it overhead, Longarm slammed the big man’s right arm down on the edge of the bar, hearing the forearm bones crack like a thick limb. Buck screamed and collapsed. “No more! Please!”
“Is that what the cowboy named Arnie said as you tried to beat him to death!” Longarm shouted. “Is it!”
Buck bowed his head and whimpered.
Longarm stepped back, wiping his bloody knuckles on his shirt, then glancing over at the bartender. “A bottle and two glasses,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir!” the man shouted, trying to hide his joy at this unexpected turn of events.
Longarm didn’t have to pour the drinks, because the bartender did that for him. Crouching beside the suffering man, Longarm handed him a glass and said, “Drink up, Buck, it will ease your pain.”
“Who are you, gawddamit!”
“United States Marshal Custis Long. And I’m here to give you fair warning that you had better give up the chase for Nathan Cox and return to Cheyenne.”
“I’m going to kill Cox and that Swensen kid!” Buck choked.
“No, you’re not,” Longarm said. “And if you don’t give up this chase, I might have to kill you.”
“They murdered my brother!”
“Maybe,” Longarm said, “but from everything I’ve heard so far, it sounds like Clyde got exactly what he deserved.”
Buck pulled himself up using the edge of the bar. He swayed and glared hatefully at Longarm. “So,” he said, “you’re a gawddamn United States marshal, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“Good,” Buck said, turning away and staggering toward the front door, “that’ll make it all even sweeter.”
Longarm was a decisive man, and he was pretty sure from Buck’s comment that the giant had no intention of giving up the deadly game. But without proof, there was nothing he could do, because this was a free country.
Longarm strode outside and yelled at Buck Zolliver. “If you come after me, I’ll use my gun instead of my fists! You hear me!”
Zolliver turned and Longarm’s hand automatically dropped to the butt of his six-gun. But the giant couldn’t make a play because of his now-broken right arm. Instead, he just spat blood and shook like he had the plague, only it was hatred and not a fever that was causing his huge body to quiver.
After a moment Buck turned and continued on. Longarm watched the giant disappear around a corner.
“Well,” Longarm muttered sarcastically to himself, “I sure took care of that matter like a veteran lawman.”
“Marshal?”
Longarm turned around to see the saloon owner. “Yeah?”
“My name is Terrence and I got some prime whiskey that I save just for special occasions. What you did just now was a very special occasion. Would you join me in a couple of drinks? I’d consider it an honor to drink to the man that whipped Buck Zolliver and drove him the hell outa my saloon.”
“Yeah,” Longarm said, rubbing his own aching jaw. “I’ll join you in a drink.”
Longarm was soon feeling a lot better. Not only was the whiskey as excellent as promised, but he was learning a little more about the kid named Rolf Swensen and the two women who’d also left town with Nathan Cox.
“Carole and Teresa were whores, but they were a real cut above the average,” Terrence said. “I tried like hell to get them to come to work for me behind this bar, but they wouldn’t. They chose to work in a bigger place that could pay them more. I understood, but I sure would have liked to have them working for me.”
“Did Clyde come in here before he was shot to death in the hallway?”
“Nope,” Terrence said, “he went straight to the Paradise Hotel, near as I can figure. He was a real bad one. Even worse than Buck.”
“I met their father in Cheyenne,” Longarm said. “And having met Emmett Zolliver, I can understand why those two boys were so mean.”
“Buck ain’t done with you or those others,” Terrence warned. “I can tell you that for a fact.”
“Well,” Longarm said, “I told him that I’d shoot him if he tried to follow us. I’ll not have a bushwhacker like that on my backtrail.”
“You should have broke his neck when you had the chance,” Terrence said, clucking his tongue. “Buck Zolliver is the kind of enemy that you have in your worst nightmare. I was the only witness and I damn sure would have said that you killed Buck in self-defense.”
Longarm emptied his fourth glass of whiskey. “Well,” he said, “I am sworn to uphold the law. That means bringing the guilty in for trial, not executing them, no matter how much they might deserve that fate.
Terrence nodded. He was drinking pretty fast, and Longarm could well imagine that the saloon owner was letting off a lot of pent-up rage and tension. It could not have been nice with Buck as his only customer.
“Marshal?”
“Yeah?”
“As long as I live, I’ll never see a more vicious fistfight than the one that you and Buck had a little while ago.
