Free The Ysabel Kid by J. T. Edson

sidewalk they looked at three horses which were fastened to the hitching rail.
    “Something wrong, amigo?” the Kid asked.
    “Something. Those three in there are wearing French guns.”
    “Are they?” The Kid didn’t look too surprised at this. “A whole lot of the Juarez men do. They take them the same way we took arms in the war. You never rode for the 1st New York Volunteers and 1 surely ain’t a friend of ole Yellerdawg Kliddoe.”
    Dusty took the point. The Juarez men, like the rebels, went in for replacing their arms with battlefield captures. However there was more to it than that. Dusty was sure the men were not what they seemed.
    “They were new issued guns from the look of them. I never saw a Mexican who’d take good care of his gun.”
    “Wouldn’t say that, Dusty. But you’re right when you say there’s something bad wrong. Those three hombres talk real good Spanish, but its not Mexican Spanish they’re talking. You wouldn’t know that, but I do.”
    “They’re not talking it right?”
    “Sure they talk it right, but not like they’d learned it in Mexico.”
    Dusty went to the horses and looked them over. They were three big, strong looking bays with military saddles. In the saddleboots were short, singleshot Charlesville carbines. Then he lifted one of the stirrup irons. It was coated with red mud.
    Stepping back on to the porch Dusty glanced through the window. “Lon look at those three.”
    The Kid looked through the window but his face showed that he saw nothing more than the three men eating with Alden. “What about them?”
    “They’re holding their knives in the right hand.”
    “So?”
    “We use the left hand for our knives, so do the Mexicans. Folks in Europe use their right.”
    “Do tell,” the Kid still could not follow Dusty’s line of reasoning.
    “Sure, those three aren’t Mexicans, they’re French. Remember that Mexican we found out there on the trail?”
    “Why sure. You reckon they’re the three who dropped him?”
    “Could be. Say! Alden said he was a salesman for some company and the Mexican was mumbling something about guns for Juarez.” Dusty paused then looked up and down the street. “When we go in there again get set, I’m going to try something.”
    The Kid studied his young friend for a moment. He did not know what Dusty had in mind but he’d an idea that things were going to happen fast and furious in the near future. He glanced to make sure his horse was loose and ready to make a fast departure from town. Tim Farron wasn’t going to be any too pleased to see Sam Ysabel’s son any time, and he was going to like the Ysabel Kid even less after Dusty was through.
    Dusty and the Kid entered the saloon again, the three men at the table were still talking to Alden and took no notice. Dusty glanced at the Kid to make sure he was set ready for action. Then Dusty opened his mouth and bellowed out:
    “ Aux armes! Aux armes! Juaristas. ”
    The three men came to their feet, swinging round with angry, startled words bursting from their lips. Alden looked up, his face showing surprise. Not at the sudden shout or the way the three men leapt up, that was normal. The men shaken by the sudden shout were talking in French.
    “ Sacre diable! ” the biggest snapped as he realised what he’d done. His hands dropped towards his gun as the other two also made their move.
    Alden’s chair went over backwards as the big man rolled back, crashing to the floor and twisting in an attempt to avoid the bullet he knew would be coming his way.
    Ahead of all the others Dusty’s matched guns were out, he threw a shot into the man who was trying to draw on Alden. The bullet smashed into the man’s arm, knocking him backwards, The other two stood fast, they were covered by the Ysabel Kid’s old Dragoon Colt.
    The bardog who’d disappeared under the bar at the first sign of trouble came up again. He was debating what action to take when the small young man made up his mind