Free Crossfire Trail (1953) by Louis L'amour Page A

death looking back at him. He could stand it no longer.
    "Why don't some of you do somethin'?" he bellowed.
    Joe Gorman spat. "You done the talkin', Red."
    "The hell with it!"
    Blazer swung his horse around, touched spurs to the animal, and raced off at top speed.
    Bruce Barkow's hand hovered close to his gun. A quick draw, a shot, and the man would be dead. Just like that. His lips tightened, and his elbow crooked. Gomer grabbed his wrist.
    "Don't Bruce! Don't! That hombre up there ... Look!"
    Barkow's head swung. Brisco was in plain sight, his rifle resting over the limb of a tree. At that distance, he could not miss. Yet he was beyond pistol range, and while some of the riders had rifles, they were out in the open without a bit of cover.
    Barkow jerked his arm away and turned his horse toward town. Rafe turned the black and rode beside him.
    He said nothing, but Barkow was seething at the big man's obvious contempt.
    Rafe Caradec had outfaced the lot of them. He had made them look fools. Yet Barkow remembered as well as each of the riders remembered, that Rafe had fired but three shots in the street battle, that all the shots had scored, and two men had died.
    When the cavalcade reached the National, Rafe turned to Pod Gomer.
    "Get your court goin'," he said calmly. "We'll have this trial now."
    "Listen here!" Gomer burst out, infuriated. "You can do things like that too often! We'll have court when we get blamed good and ready!"
    "No," Rafe said, "you'll hold court this afternoon--now. You haven't got any calendar to interfere. I have business to attend to that can't wait, and I won't. You'll have your trial today, or I'll leave and you can come and get me."
    "Who are you tellin' what to do?" Gomer said angrily. "I'll have you know ..."
    "Then you tell him, Barkow. Or does he take his orders from Shute? Call that judge of yours and let's get this over."
    Bruce Barkow's lips tightened. He could see that Gene Baker and Ann Rodney were standing in the doorway of the store, listening.
    "All right," Barkow said savagely. "Call him down here."
    Not much later Judge Roy Gargan walked into the stage station and looked around. He was a tall, slightly stooped man with a lean, hangdog face and round eyes. He walked up to the table and sat down in the chair behind it. Bruce Barkow took a chair to one side where he could see the judge.
    Noting the move, Rafe Caradec sat down where both men were visible. Barkow, nettled, shifted his chair irritably. He glanced up and saw Ann Rodney come in, accompanied by Baker and Pat Higley. He scowled again. Why couldn't they stay out of this?
    Slowly, the hangers-on around town filed in. Joe Benson came in and sat down close to Barkow. They exchanged looks. Benson's questioning glance made Barkow furious. If they wanted so much done, why didn't someone do something beside him?
    "I'll watch from here," drawled a voice.
    Barkow's head came up. Standing in the window behind and to the right of the judge was Tex Brisco. At the same instant Barkow noted him, the Texan lifted a hand.
    "Hi, Johnny! Glad to see youl"
    Bruce Barkow's face went hard. Johnny Gill, and beside him, Bo Marsh. If anything rusty was pulled in this courtroom the place would be a shambles. Maybe Dan Shute was right after all. If they were going to be crooked, why not dry-gulch the fellow and get it over? All Barkow's carefully worked out plans to get Caradec had failed.
    There had been three good chances. Resistance, that would warrant killing in attempting an arrest. Attempted escape, if he so much as made a wrong move. Or lynching by the Shute riders. At every point they had been outguessed.
    Judge Gargan slammed a six-shooter on the table.
    "Order!" he proclaimed. "Court's in session! Reckon I'll appoint a jury. Six men will do. I'll have Joe Benson, Tom Blazer, Sam Mawson, Doc Otto and-"
    "Joe Benson's not eligible," Caradec interrupted.
    Gargan frowned. "Who's runnin' this court?"
    "Supposedly," Rafe said quietly, "the law.