Valley of the Gun (9781101607480) Read Online Free

level on his face, Hirsh swallowed a hard knot in his throat.
    â€œCan I say something?” he asked.
    â€œMake it quick,” said DeShay.
    â€œI see that’s Lightning Wade’s gun you’re training on me. I just want to caution you that it
does
have a hair trigger, in case you haven’t already shot it and found that out for yourself. I say this because if you don’t really intend to shoot me, I wouldn’t want it going off by accident. You see what I mean?”
    â€œI do,” said the sheriff. “But you needn’t worry about an accident.”
    Hirsh swallowed another hard knot.
    â€œMeaning . . .”
    â€œMeaning just what you think it means,” said DeShay.
    The big custom revolver bucked in his hand. Hirsh’s forehead pitched back at a sharp angle, forcing him hard against the pile of building planks. A large red mist exploded from the back of his head as he collapsed to the ground, dead, and sat slumped against the stack of lumber.
    â€œYou’re right about this hair trigger,” DeShay said, looking down at the smoking revolver in his hand. “I’ll have to be careful about that.” He noted the rich, distinctive sound of the big gun, the deep after-ring of high-quality steel.
Very nice gun.
    Looking out across the top of the stacked lumber, he saw the Ranger appear at the edge of the livery barn door.
    â€œRanger, it’s me, Sheriff DeShay,” he called out. “I flushed us out an ambusher among these boards.”
    Recognizing DeShay in the waning evening light, Sam walked forward, rifle ready in hand, and stared down at the dead outlaw. He looked at the rifle lying atop the lumber where Hirsh had dropped it.
    â€œDo you know him?” Sam asked.
    â€œHis name is Albert Hirsh—was anyway,” said DeShay, staring down with the Ranger. “He’s one of Dad Orwick’s gunmen who was here earlier.” As he spoke he opened the Simpson-Barre, flipped out the spent round and replaced it. Smoke still curled from the long barrel.
    â€œHe was laying for me,” Sam said, seeing the location, the proximity to the rear bar door.
    â€œThat’s the way I made it,” DeShay said quietly. “I could’ve been wrong. . . .”
    Sam shook his head a little.
    â€œYou weren’t wrong,” he said. “I’m obliged. Lucky for me you spotted him.”
    DeShay dismissed the matter with a nod. He snapped the cylinder shut and stuck the big revolver down behind his belt.
    â€œOrwick has two kinds of men riding with him,” he said. “There’s gunmen like this one he calls his
company,
and there’s another group he calls his
disciples
.” He looked at Sam. “All in all they make up the Redemption Riders. Pardon me for mentioning it, if you already knew.”
    â€œI didn’t know,” Sam said. He looked DeShay up and down. “I appreciate anything you can tell me about Orwick and his Redemption Riders.”
    DeShay thought he saw a questioning look in the Ranger’s eyes.
    â€œBefore I say another word, let me tell you why I know so much about him and his men, Ranger,” he said.
    â€œI’m listening,” Sam said.
    Deshay took a breath and let it out slowly.
    â€œAll right, I know Dad Orwick,” he said, then quickly corrected himself. “That’s not to say we’re friends or anything of the sort. But him and his men rode through here shortly after I volunteered to wear this badge. We developed sort of a live-and-let-live attitude for each other.”
    Sam just stared and listened.
    â€œNow, don’t go getting the wrong idea, Ranger,” DeShay continued. “I’m not in cahoots with him and his thievery. But so long as he breaks no law in my town, I don’t crowd him any. He rides through, sometimes takes up supplies for his families, then rides on. It’s all respectable-like.” He shrugged and