took in Ace and Chance. His hand shifted a little and rested on the gun butt.
âWho are your friends?â he asked.
âTheyâre not part of this,â Porter snapped. âThis is between you and me.â
âYouâre wrong about that, too.â A bark of laughter came from Hudson. âThereâs nothing between you and me. Less than nothing. Youâre completely insignificant to me, Porter. And to Evelyn as well.â
He was trying to goad Porter into taking a swing at him, Ace realized. If that happened, he and Chance might have to step in, and that would give Hudson an excuse to draw his gun. The man must have figured he was pretty good, to be willing, even eager, apparently, to take on odds like that.
And maybe he was. Ace didnât know. But he was certain he didnât want to get mixed up in a shooting on their first night in Austin. He and Chance had been on the drift for quite some time and hoped to stay here for a while.
Ace put his left hand on Porterâs right shoulder and said, âListen, why donât we go on inside? That cup of coffee we were talking about sounds better all the time.â
âIâm not afraidââ Porter began.
âNobody said you were,â Chance told him. âCome on in. Weâll talk about it.â
Hudson said, âThereâs nothing to talk about. Itâs all settled.â
âIf thereâs nothing to talk about, why donât you move on, mister?â Ace suggested.
âMaybe I donât like being told what to do,â Hudson replied, thin-lipped with anger.
Slowly, Ace shook his head. His hand tightened on Porterâs shoulder. Chance took hold of Porterâs other shoulder. Together, they started to steer him around Hudson toward the door of the café.
âWeâre not looking for any trouble,â Ace said.
Hudson laughed, and the smugness of the sound made Aceâs jaw tighten. It was almost enough to cause him to throw caution to the wind and find out just how slick on the draw Hudson really was.
There was only so much prodding he could take.
But then Porter shook loose and said, âItâs all right, fellows. Come on.â He took a deep breath. âLetâs go inside.â
Narrow-eyed, Ace told Hudson, âThings might be different, happen we cross trails again.â
âSure, kid.â Hudson smirked. âWhatever you say.â
He turned and strolled off through the mist.
âThat son-of-aââ Chance began.
He didnât finish because the café door opened and a woman said, âMr. Porter, is that you? I thought I saw you out here. Please, come in out of the weather.â
She didnât step out into the mist, but she extended a slim hand and smiled. Her blond hair was put up on her head. She wore a crisp gingham dress with a white apron tied over it. From the looks of the outfit, she worked as a waitress in the café.
âMiss Channing,â Porter said. âI . . . I . . .â
He couldnât go on. Instead he turned and started walking along the street in the opposite direction from the way Hudson had gone. His head was down.
âOh, dear,â Miss Channing said. She looked at Ace and Chance.
âDonât worry about him, maâam, weâll go after him,â Ace said as he lifted a hand and pinched the brim of his hat. He wasnât sure why he had just volunteered himself and Chance to look after Porter, unless it was because somebody needed to.
âMaâam,â Chance said as he touched the brim of his hat as well. Then he and Ace took off after Porter. They were taller than the man from North Carolina, and their longer legs allowed them to catch up fairly quickly.
As they came up on either side of Porter, Ace said, âWhat was that all about? I think you may have insulted the young lady.â
âSheâs worried about you, anyway,â Chance said. âYou could tell that by