“Sure, you’re just like all the other brave bastards in Helldorado. Too damned tough to be smart. You need whiskey for your pain and you look like death warmed over.”
“You’re no prize yourself,” Longarm told the woman. “How long do you go without sleep?”
“Depends on how much business I’m doing and how horny the men are on any particular day. In this shit-hole town, there isn’t much for any of us to do but drink and screw. Helldorado is a real-“
“Shut up, Lucy,” Randy ordered in a stern voice. “Your wagging tongue is going to get you in real deep trouble one of these days.”
“It already has, kid.”
A bottle arrived, and Longarm gulped down several long slugs, feeling better almost immediately as Randy and Lucy glared at each other.
Finally, Lucy managed a cold smile. “If I wasn’t wanted by the law, kid, why else do you think I’d stay in Helldorado? Hell, Randy, wake up! Everyone in this miserable town is bound for a sorry end. If you don’t believe that you’re only fooling yourself.”
“Lucy, shut up and doctor Custis!” Randy snapped. “I swear you talk too damned much.”
Lucy’s lips tightened in a hard line, and she was quiet until the hot water, needle, thread, and bandages arrived and were placed on the poker table. Then she looked at Longarm and said, “I need you back on your feet until this is over.”
Longarm stood again, and was surprised to discover that his legs felt weak and he was dizzy. The whiskey was hitting him hard, but he took another stiff drink before he laced his fingers behind his back and clenched his teeth as Lucy went to work on his torn flesh with her needle and thread. To Longarm’s relief, the suturing didn’t increase his pain. The sewing went slowly, but when it was finally done, Lucy quickly and expertly bandaged the wound, wrapping Longarm’s entire torso.
“I’m done,” Lucy said, “so you can relax and get good and drunk. Your head will feel worse for it tomorrow morning, but you’ll sleep tonight.”
Longarm sat and reached for the bottle. He wasn’t going to get drunk, but he was going to take a little more painkiller and then hobble back to his room and call it a night. He had no more than picked up the bottle, however, when he heard a big commotion outside.
“What do you suppose is going on?” Longarm asked no one in particular.
“I think they’ve already found Dean,” Randy said, looking very grim as he went to the door and peered outside. “Yep,” he called back. “They got him.”
“Lucy, what is Matthew Killion going to do to Dean?”
“I don’t exactly know,” Lucy confessed, taking a pull on Longarm’s bottle, “but I expect that he’ll die slowly.”
Longarm sucked in a deep breath. He had no love or sympathy for Dean, but neither could he stand idly by while the man was systematically tortured.
Dean howled in pain, and Longarm heard loud voices and a great deal of cursing before Matthew and Clyde Killion burst into the saloon, followed by Dean and most of the town’s outlaws.
All eyes turned to Longarm, and Killion shouted, “He’s been shot, all right. You winged him in the forearm and we caught him trying to steal one of our horses and escape.”
“It was my own damned horse!” Dean squalled. “Mister Killion, I swear I’d never steal anything from you!”
Killion hauled up short and spun around to hit Dean. The wounded outlaw’s legs buckled and he had to be supported. Killion stepped forward and hauled the man up to his toes.
“Dean, you know the rules in Helldorado. You know I won’t stand for one of us killing another. You broke that rule and you were trying to get out before you got caught.”
Dean’s head wobbled loosely on his big shoulders. His face, already a mess from the beating that he’d taken from Longarm, was now bleeding again, probably the result of the struggle it had taken to capture and deliver him to this place.
“Just let me go,” Dean begged. “I been loyal to you, Mr. Killion! I killed men for you and-“
Killion hit him again, this time crushing Dean’s lips to pulp and dropping him to the floor. Longarm came to his feet. His head was swimming and he felt reckless. “He’s no dog,” Longarm said. “So don’t beat him like one.”
Killion spun around, eyes slitting. “What did you say?”
“I said he’s not a dog,” Longarm answered evenly. “He’s a man.”
“He’s a horse thief and an ambusher,” Killion said, his voice shaking with rage. “And furthermore, he works for me and I make the rules in this town. So sit down, and if you say another word, I’ll finish what Dean could not. Do I make that very clear?”
Longarm felt the icy finger of death reaching out to tap him on the shoulder. Matthew Killion was not bluffing and Longarm, despite the revulsion he felt, knew that he would forfeit his life if he said another word.
Randy knew it too because he leaned forward and whispered, “Just shut up.”
Longarm picked up his bottle and turned to Lucy. “Thank you for the fine doctoring job, Miss Lucy. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I need some fresh air.”
Longarm limped past Killion, their eyes locking for a moment. No one dared to stop Longarm as he found the door and passed outside, bottle clenched in his big hand. He wasn’t ready to die for a man like Dean Holt, but he sure wasn’t ready to watch the man suffer either.
Holt’s first scream was the loudest, and it sent a chill all the way down Longarm’s spine. The second scream was that of a dying animal, and Longarm was jerked up short in his tracks. He took a long drink and slowly pivoted around, a man caught between the dictates of his conscience and his own tenuous mortality. He dropped the bottle
