ever will. I’m making sure that this Big ’Nacio’s riding stops right here. I’m taking care of him myself.”
“Nothing stirring!”
“How you figuring on keeping me from taking him?” he laughed viciously at me. “You don’t think me and Irish are alone, do you? If you don’t believe you’re corralled, make a play!”
I believed him, but—
“That doesn’t make any difference. If I were a grub-line rider, or a desert rat, or any lone guy with no connections, you’d rub me out quick enough. But I’m not, and you know I’m not. I’m counting on that. You’ve got to kill me to take ’Nacio. That’s flat! I don’t think you want him bad enough to go that far. Right or wrong, I’m playing it that way.”
He stared at me for a while. Then his knees urged his horse toward the Mexican, ’Nacio sat up and began pleading with me to save him.
Slowly I raised my right hand to my shoulder-holstered gun.
“Drop it!” Peery ordered, both his guns close to my head.
I grinned at him, took my gun out slowly, slowly turned it until it was level between his two.
We held that pose long enough to work up a good sweat apiece. It wasn’t restful!
A queer light flickered in his red-rimmed eyes.
I didn’t guess what was coming until too late.
His left-hand gun swung away from me—exploded.