Free The H&R Cattle Company by Doug Bowman

eating,” he said, “but it sure is good.” Toby nodded and returned to the kitchen. Both men enjoyed the stew and were served egg custard for dessert.
    Their next stop was the White Horse Saloon, located on the corner at the end of the block. A large chalk replica of a white stallion stood on the roof of the building, under which was a sign reading that gambling, billiards and whiskey could be found inside.
    Hunter and Rollins took stools at the far side of the horseshoe-shaped bar, where they had a good view of everything around them. A few gaming tables were set up near the back wall, and two poker games were in progress. Across the room, near the opposite wall, were two billiard tables. Nobody played the game at the moment. Several tables and chairs were located in the center of the saloon, scattered around a potbellied stove.
    A dark-haired young man, whose body appeared to be about as firm and unyielding as an oak, stood behind the bar, his shirtsleeves rolled up on muscular arms. “What’ll you have?” he asked, wiping the bar with a dry cloth.
    Rollins ordered beer for both men. They were served quickly, then the bartender was gone to the opposite side of the bar.
    They were working on their third beer when a tall, narrow-shouldered man with a thick neck walked through the door, taking a stool directly across the bar from Hunter. He ordered a drink, then decided that Zack, who thought the man looked familiar, was giving him excessive scrutiny. “Don’t be settin’ over there glarin’ at me, feller,” the man said with a snarl.
    Hunter’s eyes never wavered.
    The man was on his feet and around the end of the bar quickly, standing beside Hunter’s stool. “I guess you didn’t hear me,” he said, moving closer.
    Zack said nothing.
    Then the man turned to Rollins, who was smiling as if he knew a secret. “Don’t know what you’re grinnin’ about,” the man said. “You’re gonna be next.”
    â€œOh, no,” Bret said. He laughed aloud and motioned toward Hunter. “If you manage to get by him, I’m not gonna be next; I’m gonna be running.”
    As if on cue, Zack went into action. In one fluid movement, he elbowed his antagonist in the midsection, slid off the stool on the opposite side, then went to work on the man’s head. The fight lasted less than five seconds before the man was lying unconscious at Zack’s feet. Zack had landed six devastating punches to the head and face, three of them as the man was going down. Though the man had made a few defensive movements, none had been effective.
    The bartender had seen and listened to the entire exchange. “Guess that’s about as quick as I’ve ever seen it done,” he said. He poured a beer for each of the men, refusing payment.
    Hunter reclaimed his stool and began to sip the foamy brew. He still had not spoken.
    When the man on the floor began to stir, Zack got to his feet and stood watching. The man sat up and shook his head a few times, then pulled himself to his feet. On shaky legs, he made one step in Hunter’s direction but stopped, appearing to think it over for a while. Then, shaking his head once again, he picked up his hat from the floor and left the building.
    The bartender topped off Zack’s beer, then stood with his elbows on the bar. “Wish there’d been more people in here to see it,” he said, chuckling. “I don’t believe anybody in this town’s ever seen Jiggs Odom on his back before.”
    Zack continued to sip his beer silently.
    Rollins pushed his mug toward the bartender for a refill, then shrugged. “I could have told Mister Odom that he was taking on a heavy load, but he wouldn’t have listened.”
    â€œNope,” the bartender said. “Jiggs is used to getting his own way, and I doubt that he’s ever run into the kind of resistance he met just now.” He poured