descending on Egypt, or get the Ranger to read it to you.â
âNo need for that. I remember the story.â
Hackerâs smile was unpleasant. âWell, now you know my plan,â he said.
âAs far as Iâm aware, there are no locusts in this part of Texas,â Dupoix said.
âWell, thatâs where youâre wrong, ainât you?â Hacker said. He nodded in the direction of the door. âNow get out of here. And remember, I want that Ranger dead. Smother him with a pillow if you have to, but kill him.â
âYouâre the boss,â Dupoix said.
And Nora looked at him and smiled.
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Baptiste Dupoix tapped on Hank Cannanâs door, then stepped inside when the Ranger said, âCome in.â
Dupoix halted in his tracks, staring at the unwavering muzzle of Cannanâs gun.
âA Colt pointing at his brisket is hardly a friendly way to greet a man,â he said.
âYouâre not my friend, Baptiste,â Cannan said.
âBut Iâm not your enemy. Abe Hacker is your enemy.â
âA man who draws gun wages from my foe, is my enemy,â Cannan said. âIsnât that how it goes?â
âFoe. Iâve only seen that word in poems when I was a boy.â
âIt fits,â Cannan said. He lowered the Colt. âBut you didnât come here to kill me today, did you?â
âIâve already killed a man today, Cannan. I donât much feel like killing another.â
Dupoix stepped around the bed, picked up the Old Crow, and held the bottle up to the light of the oil lamp.
âThereâs enough,â he said. He poured whiskey into the glasses and handed one to Cannan. âLike old times, huh?â
Dupoix reached into his coat pocket, and Cannan tensed and moved his hand closer to his Colt.
The gambler smiled. He threw a sack of tobacco and papers on the bed.
âI donât think you cared for my brand of cigars much, so I brought you the makings. Oh, and youâll need these lucifers,â he said, handing over a box of matches.
âWho did you kill, Dupoix?â Cannan said, his face like stone.
âNot one of your friends, I assure you,â the gambler said. âI disposed of that fine gentleman Dave Randall.â
âHe was one of the men who tried to kill me,â Cannan said.
âIndeed. And now theyâre both dead.â
âJess Gable was murdered, and not by my hand,â the Ranger said.
âCan you murder a man whoâs already dead, or at least dying?â
âYes, you can. Who cut his throat, Dupoix? You?â
The gambler shook his head. âNot my style. No, I suspect it was Hacker.â
âWhy?â
âBecause Gable failed him. I mean, youâre still alive and kicking, arenât you? Hacker doesnât much like that.â
âYouâre sunburned, Dupoix. Did Hacker send you out after Randall?â
âNo, it was my own idea. Dave didnât go far, and he wasnât difficult to track, even for a gambler. When it came down to getting our work in, I got lucky. Daveâs gun misfired.â
âIt happens sometimes,â Cannan said. He looked down at his fingers busily building a cigarette and said, âWhy did you feel the need to kill him?â
âBecause I knew heâd come back here to the hotel and finish the job to get himself in good with Hacker,â Dupoix said.
âWhy are you so concerned for my welfare?â A match flared, and he lit his cigarette.
Dupoix smiled. âBecause I like you, Cannan. Youâre an honorable man and one meets so few of those in the gambling profession. Besides, you always look like a big olâ angry walrus and that makes me laugh.â
Cannan inhaled deeply, then let the smoke drift out with his words. âAmusing to you or not, you know Iâm duty-bound to hang you, Dupoix.â
âAnd I may be duty-bound to gun you, Ranger. But letâs not