Free Wyoming Slaughter by William W. Johnstone Page B

it all worked out. These wagons are going over to Saloon Row right now and are gonna be parked real conspicuous near all those houses of perdition. People are going to ask about them, and they’re going to learn that the tiger and lion wagons are real good at caging drunks and rebels on New Year’s Eve. That’ll wet their britches for them. You’re going to have the most peaceable New Year’s Eve in the long, illustrious, shining history of Doubtful.”
    The company of toughs immediately started the frosted horses toward Saloon Row, black shadows in swirling snow.
    â€œWho’s got the key to them cages?” I asked.
    â€œI do. I alone have the keys. I will play God on New Year’s Eve, choosing who I send to hell. We’re going to clean up this problem so fast it’ll run like crap through a duck. Pickens, you got nothing to worry about. Them cowboys are no match for this outfit. A few minutes after midnight, the drunks will be caged, the booze in every bar poured out or shot out, the saloons locked tight, the new law enforced, and you can go to your little trundle bed and snore away the rest of the night.” Cannon smiled. “Don’t say we never did anything for you. We’ve solved every problem that’s been eating out your gizzard.”
    â€œYou heeled?”
    â€œWe’re all heeled. You open our coats and you see a regular hardware store.”
    â€œI guess you better come with me, Cannon. We’ll go over to my office.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    I beckoned and Cannon followed, curious about what was up. The heat struck us as we entered, which was good. I liked that. I wanted heat. I took off my coat. Cannon stayed buttoned up.
    â€œWe’ll pack them cells, boyo,” Cannon said.
    Cannon headed that way, through the jail door, and studied the cells. “They’ll do,” he said.
    â€œWe’ve got a law here. No guns inside of the town limits. You going to comply? You and your outfit?”
    â€œThat’d be like going naked in freezing weather, Pickens.”
    â€œThere’s pegs on the wall there. Good place for you and your outfit to hang up the guns. When you leave town, you can pick them up.”
    â€œPickens, we come to help out. What’s in your head except bone?”
    â€œI got a law that needs some attention. Tell you what, Cannon. You and me, we’ll go out and tell those gents with you to bring in the hardware. That’s what the rule is. It’ll be safe here.”
    I picked up a scattergun I had lying behind my desk.
    Cannon saw how it was. His greatcoat hung heavily over his own artillery. “I never forget,” he said.
    â€œGood. I guess you’ll need to undo that coat one button at a time, while I stand behind you, and I guess you’ll unbuckle your gun belt, and I guess you’ll slowly let her drop, and turn around slowly with your hands high so I can see what else you’ve got. Then you’ll head for one of them cells, you get your pick, and I’ll write out a ticket, and maybe you can talk to Lawyer Stokes—he’s the only one we got here—into defending you.”
    â€œYou want to know what’s gonna happen, Pickens? Those dudes out there, when they get wind of where I’m parked, they’ll tear this jailhouse to bits, and maybe you’ll be lucky to get your ass into the woods before they do.”
    â€œSounds like a threat to me, Cannon. My finger’s itchy.”
    â€œHell, Sheriff, my fists are itchier. Tell you what, Sheriff. If I give you my word that I’ll bring the boys in, and we’ll hang our hardware there until needed, would that do?”
    â€œNo. That ‘until needed’ part don’t fly, Cannon. Until you’re fixing to leave town. Then you get it back.”
    â€œFine way to treat friends, Pickens.”
    â€œYou gonna give me your word? And you gonna keep your outfit legal?”
    â€œWait