The Devil's Collector Read Online Free

he have any friends in town?” he asked.
    â€œNot a one.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œDo us all a favor,” Grenke said as they went out the door. “Kill ’im.”
    As they stepped out, Sonnet looked at Clint.
    â€œDon’t say it.”
    â€œI don’t have to,” Sonnet said. “Come on, let’s find him and get this over with.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Williams lifted the shot glass to his mouth, drained it, then poured himself a fresh drink. The saloon girl sitting in his lap wriggled in his grasp.
    â€œSit still, damn it!” he snapped.
    â€œI gotta go to work, Dix,” she complained.
    â€œYou are workin’, darlin’,” he told her.
    She looked toward the bartender for help, but he averted his eyes. Nobody wanted to go against Dix Williams’s gun.
    The rest of the patrons in the Golden Garter Saloon paid attention to their own drinking. They ignored Dix Williams as long as he ignored them.
    Williams really liked this town. He had a new business, plenty of money, plenty of women in town—including the daughter of his “partner”—and he had the run of it all.
    His life couldn’t get any better.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Clint and Sonnet had checked two large saloons before they came to the Golden Garter. They entered and went to the bar, ordered two beers.
    â€œDon’t look around,” Clint said as the bartender set the beers down. “Just tell me if Dix Williams is in the place.”
    â€œHe sure is.”
    â€œWhere?” Sonnet asked.
    â€œBehind you,” the bartender said. “The girl with the green dress is in his lap, only she don’t wanna be.”
    â€œHe a friend of yours?” Clint asked.
    â€œHell, no,” the man said. “He’s been ridin’ roughshod over this town since he got here. You’d be doin’ us all a favor if you killed him.”
    Sonnet looked at Clint, who avoided his gaze.
    â€œOkay,” Clint said. “Thanks.”
    â€œAre you gonna?” the man asked.
    â€œWhat?” Clint asked.
    â€œKill ’im?”
    â€œNo . . .” Clint said.
    â€œBut I am,” Jack Sonnet said, and turned.

SEVEN
    â€œDix Williams!”
    The man looked up at the sound of his name, craned his neck to look around the girl.
    â€œYou talkin’ to me, kid?” he asked.
    â€œI am.”
    â€œI’m a little busy at the moment.”
    Sonnet walked forward, grabbed the girl’s arm, and pulled her from Williams’s grasp.
    â€œGo away,” he told her.
    â€œThank you,” she said and rushed over to the bar.
    â€œYou lookin’ for trouble, boy?” Williams demanded. He was just drunk enough to be loud and blustery.
    â€œI’m lookin’ for you, Dix,” Sonnet said.
    â€œDo I know you?”
    â€œSort of.”
    â€œWhataya mean, sort of?”
    â€œYou knew my brother.”
    â€œI did?” Williams asked. “How well?”
    â€œWell enough to kill him.”
    Williams did not look surprised that Sonnet was the brother of a man he’d killed.
    â€œYou know,” he said proudly, stretching his legs out, “I know a lot of dead brothers.”
    â€œWell, you’re not gonna know any more after today.”
    â€œThat’s big talk for a kid who’s wet behind the ears,” William said. “Is your friend backin’ your play?”
    Clint raised his hands and said, “I’m out of it.”
    â€œStand up,” Sonnet said.
    â€œThis’ll do me just fine,” Williams said, his legs still stretched out ahead of him.
    â€œFine,” Sonnet said. He drew and fired.
    With just a quick tremor of his extended legs, Dix Williams died.
    The place grew quiet, and then the girl in the green dress said, “Oh, thank God.”
    Before long, men were slapping Sonnet on the back and pumping his hand.
    This was not exactly the reaction Clint