Ralph Compton the Evil Men Do Read Online Free Page A

you, Hitch. You’re not as worthless as I thought.”
    â€œI beg your pardon?” Fred said.
    â€œWhy do you think I settled here? That first day I rode in and you came over and introduced yourself, I saw right away that as a lawman, you were pitiful. You weren’t ever likely to figure out the truth. So I gave you a fake name and started this store.”
    Fred was shocked. “You thought that poorly of me?”
    â€œHitch, everybody does.”
    â€œI never,” Fred said. Here he thought he’d been doing a fairly fine job. So what if he didn’t actually do much? There wasn’t much to do.
    â€œI won’t let you take me,” McCarthy vowed.
    Fred glanced at the boy to ask what they should do—but the boy wasn’t there. He’d crept off while they were talking. “Tyree?” he whispered.
    â€œWhat’s that?” McCarthy said.
    Fred inched an eye past the sacks. The place was too dark to see much. There were only a couple of small windows and they were high up. “Tom, I wish you would reconsider.”
    A revolver thundered.
    Fred drew back, thinking that McCarthy was shooting at him. But no, more shots banged, and he realized the kid and McCarthy were in a gun duel. He heard McCarthy cry out and the stamp of pounding boots. Then a rectangle of light spilled across the floor.
    â€œHe’s hightailin’ it,” the kid shouted.
    Fred moved around the sacks in time to see Tyree Johnson bolt out the rear door. “Damn him anyhow,” Fred said, and went after him. The harsh flare of the sun made him squint. He looked right and left but didn’t see either of them. Relieved, he was about to turn and goback through the store to the front when the kid popped out of an alley and beckoned.
    â€œWhat are you waitin’ for? This’ll be easier if it’s both of us.”
    Fred’s idea of “easy” didn’t include being shot at, but he dashed into the alley, puffing worse than before.
    â€œYou are awful out of shape,” Tyree remarked, running smoothly.
    â€œDon’t worry about me,” Fred said. He wouldn’t admit it, but this was the most exercise he’d had in a coon’s age. “Where did he get to?”
    â€œThe main street.”
    â€œHe could be anywhere by now.” Fred sought to discourage pursuit. “We might as well go back to my office.”
    â€œYou do what you want, old man,” Tyree said, running faster, “but I’m no quitter.”
    â€œWell, hell.” Fred wished he didn’t have to follow him. He’d never counted on something like this happening. Not in Sweetwater.
    Main Street was deserted. A few faces peeked from windows, but most people had the sense not to show themselves when lead flew.
    The boy was looking to the right. “I bet he’s makin’ for the stable. Does he keep a horse there?”
    â€œNot that I know of,” Fred said.
    â€œHe’ll steal one, then,” Tyree said. “But he’ll want to saddle it first, and that will slow him some.” Tucking low, he ran on. “Let’s go.”
    Fred was tired of the boy giving him orders. He was the law. He was the grown man. He should be telling the kid, not the other way around.
    The stable doors were wide-open, and nothing moved inside. The stable man, Chester, was nowhere to be seen.
    Fred hoped McCarthy hadn’t harmed Chester. Once a week he and Chester played checkers. And on occasion they’d claim a table at the saloon and pass a bottle back and forth. Chester was the closest thing to a best friend he had.
    Zigzagging, Tyree Johnson reached the stable and put his back to the wall. He was careful, that boy, and knew all the tricks.
    Fred tried zigzagging, but his knees didn’t like it. When he reached the wall, he sagged against it and wheezed.
    â€œAre you going to die on me?” Tyree asked.
    â€œHa,” Fred said. He didn’t