the man’s gun flying.
“Get up,” he calmly ordered, waiting for Dean to struggle to his feet.
Dean was smart enough to take his time. He blinked, and then dried his eyes with his sleeve. When his vision was clear enough to see that Longarm hadn’t even drawn his gun, Dean cursed and charged, arms reaching out to encircle Longarm and tackle him to the ground.
Instead, Longarm jumped aside and booted Dean in the ear. The man screamed in pain and furrowed through the dirty sawdust. Longarm walked over and grabbed his collar, dragging him to his feet.
“You were going to gut-shoot me, huh?” he asked, driving a powerful uppercut to Dean’s belly that lifted him completely off the ground.
Still clutching the man’s collar, Longarm pounded him again in the belly, and then grabbed Dean’s ears and jerked the man’s face down to connect with a wicked left uppercut. Everyone in the room heard Dean’s nose POP, and then heard the man scream in agony as he crashed over a chair.
Longarm was feeling good, and he wasn’t nearly ready to see this fight end. Not after all the sucking up he’d been forced to do to this gang. “Come on, Dean!” he urged. “Get up and let’s make a good fight of it!”
But Dean was finished. His face was a sheet of blood and he couldn’t seem to get enough breath in his lungs. Longarm went over to help him into a chair, but Randy Killion stepped between them. Longarm hadn’t a clue as to where he’d come from or how long he’d been in the saloon, but he was suddenly there and a gun was in his fist pointing at Longarm’s chest.
“Dean has had enough fighting,” Randy said, cocking his gun.
Longarm was brought up short. He forced a smile. “I was going to help him into a chair and maybe buy him a drink to show there were no hard feelings on my part.”
“He doesn’t need a drink,” Randy said. “And there will be hard feelings.”
Longarm raised his hands and unclenched his big fists. “It was a fair fight. He asked for it, not me.”
“The man didn’t have a chance,” Randy said, “and we both know it.”
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Clyde asked, coming to stand beside his younger brother.
Longarm looked around at the others, then turned back to face the Killion brothers. “I had a friend that shared a cell block with me at the Yuma Territorial Prison. He was a former bare-knuckles champion and he knew how to use his fists. He beat the hell out of me the first two years we were locked up together.”
“And then?” Randy asked.
“And then I learned the hard way and beat the hell out of him for a couple of years before we became friends.”
The brothers exchanged quick glances. Clyde studied Dean, and when he looked up at Longarm, there was respect in his deep-set eyes.
“Maybe I’d like a few lessons myself someday, Custis,” Randy said. “And maybe I can teach you a few things that fella didn’t know about fighting.”
“I’m always happy to learn,” Longarm said. “Shall we go to it right now?”
“No,” Randy said quickly. Too quickly. “Maybe … maybe tomorrow.”
“I’m going to be leaving Helldorado tomorrow,” Longarm said, “unless you have changed your mind and decided to buy some of our ponies after all.”
“Not very damned likely,” Clyde said.
“There is one horse I kind of admire,” Randy said.
Longarm turned his attention to the kid. “You’d be referring to the buckskin.”
“That’s right. He doesn’t even belong with those others. Is he really a mustang?”
“No,” Longarm said. “I figure he was a saddle horse that broke free and then went wild. He was running with the mustangs and we just brought him along.”
“He’s handsome,” Randy said. “How much?”
“For you, ten dollars.”
It was a ridiculously low price, one that Longarm knew the kid from Helldorado could not afford to pass up.
“Is he still rideable?”
“I don’t know,” Longarm said honestly. “But the Indian will know.”
“Then let’s talk to him now,” Randy said.
Longarm looked at the others, and when Clyde did not object, he gave them a simple smile and followed Randy out the door, sucking on the knuckles that he’d barked.
“Are you as good with a six-gun as you are those fists?” Randy asked.
“Nope.”
Randy stopped and looked at him. “I’m not sure that I or anyone else that saw you whip Dean believes that.”
“Like I said,” Longarm answered, “I had this friend in the Yuma prison.”
“When were you there?”
