Free Reprisal by William W. Johnstone Page A

Paulette operated one of the West’s most notorious whorehouses, and had for just about fifteen years. After she wore out her welcome, among other things, in Denver, she moved her entire operation to Durango. As far as Paulette’s husband’s dying, he sure did that: She shot him five times after she caught him stark naked with another woman, on the floor of their fine home in the fashionable section of Denver. Paulette had about twenty soiled doves in her employ. Something for everyone’s tastes, so the story went.
    â€œMartha is a big supporter of the Temperance Movement, Mr. Morgan. She is going to spread the word about the evils of drinking here in the West.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYes. And that’s not all.”
    â€œI was afraid of that.”
    â€œMartha is active in a movement that would give women the vote.”
    Hal and Ben walked back into the room, a blast of cold wind signaling their entrance. “We put Gene in the shed,” Hal said. “Don’t seem decent, though. Me and Gene been together for a long time.”
    â€œHe won’t mind being in the shed,” one of the traveling men said.
    Ben looked at him, an ugly expression on his face. “Who the hell asked you?”
    The traveling man shrugged his shoulders and looked away.
    Mrs. Overhouser stood up and walked over to Colleen. She held out a hand. “Come, Colleen. I’ve found us a place to sleep for tonight. One that will provide some privacy.” She gave Frank a very dirty look.
    â€œGo on, Colleen,” Frank said softly, his eyes not leaving Ben’s face. “I think there’s going to be some more trouble in here.”
    â€œBut ...” Colleen started to protest.
    â€œGo on,” Frank said more firmly. “Jeff,” he called. “Come escort the ladies out of here.”
    The traveling men, still seated at the table, rose and went into the small bar area of the stage stop.
    Frank stood up to face the remaining bounty hunters. “You boys just won’t let it alone, will you?”
    â€œYou can’t get both of us, Morgan,” Hal said. “Just ain’t no way that’s possible.”
    â€œNow wait a minute here!” the stationmaster protested, reaching for his shotgun.
    â€œYou touch that scattergun and you’re dead, mister,” Ben said.
    â€œThe same goes for you,” Hal told the driver. “Just back off and mind your own business.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you talking about? This place is my business!” the stationmaster protested.
    â€œAnd this is our business,” Hal told him. “That gunslinger standin’ right there.” He looked at Frank.
    â€œYeah. Me and Hal done talked it over. Gene ain’t gonna die for nothin’,” Ben said, his eyes never leaving Frank. “Me and him was close as brothers. So it’s root, hog, or die time. You understand that, Morgan?”
    â€œI hear you.”
    â€œWe gonna make sure them women is safe away from stray bullets,” Hal said. “I don’t give a damn ’bout the men. See to that,” he told the driver and the stationmaster. “Go on, make yourselves useful.”
    â€œYou ready, Morgan?” Ben said.
    â€œDo I have a choice?”
    â€œNot none at all.”
    â€œLots of lead going to fly in this building, Ben. And there are a lot of people in here.”
    â€œI done told ’em to hunt a hole. They don’t, that there ain’t no worry of mine.”
    â€œYou’re all heart, Ben.”
    â€œHuh?”
    Frank watched Hal edge a few steps to his left. “Stand still, bounty hunter.”
    â€œI got a better idea, Morgan,” Ben said. “Draw!”
    Both man-hunters grabbed iron.

Nine
    Frank drew, fired, and jumped to one side all in one smooth movement. His first shot hit Hal in the shoulder and knocked the bounty hunter back. Frank hit the floor just as he fired again. The impact