Free Showdown by William W. Johnstone

no human ma. You was borned in a travelin’ circus in the monkey cage.”
    â€œI’ll kill you!” Steve shouted.
    â€œYou got it to do.”
    â€œYou’re enjoyin’ this, ain’t you, Morgan?” a gunhand standing close to Frank asked in a soft voice.
    â€œNot really,” Frank whispered. “But I’m glad it’s them facing a bullet and not me.”
    â€œYour time is comin’.”
    â€œI’m sure it is. And I’m also sure I’ll be here.” Or close by, Frank thought. Like waiting in an old deserted town called Red Rock. Frank had given the old town a lot of thought, and the more he thought, the better it sounded for a showdown.
    The violent cursing of Steve broke into Frank’s thinking. The man was really working himself into a lather. It wouldn’t be long now.
    Jimmy laughed at the man. “You cuss real good, Steve. But then, I’ve heard for years that you always did have a big mouth with no guts to back it up.”
    â€œThat does it for me, you butt-ugly peckerwood!” Steve grabbed for his gun.
    Jimmy cleared leather first and got off the first shot. The bullet missed Steve and blew a hole through one of the front windows.
    Steve fired, the bullet hitting Jimmy in the leg and knocking him back against the bar. Jimmy grunted in shock and sudden pain and lifted his. 44. He squeezed the trigger. The slug hit Steve in the left shoulder and spun him around, throwing him against a table. Cards and chips were scattered all over the floor.
    Jimmy cocked and fired again. The bullet missed its mark and blew a leg off a wooden chair.
    Down on one knee, Steve leveled his six-gun and fired. His shot was true, the bullet slamming into Jimmy’s belly and doubling him over.
    Gasping in pain, Jimmy slowly raised his pistol and fired. The slug hit Steve in the center of his face, disintegrating his nose as the bullet ripped into his brain. Steve dropped to the floor like a heavy rock and did not move.
    Jimmy slowly sank down to his knees as the pain in his belly intensified. “Oh, God, I hurt!” he hollered.
    â€œI bet he do,” a gunny said.
    â€œSomebody get the doc,” another gunslick suggested.
    â€œWhy?” another gun-handler asked. “Steve’s dead as a rock and Jimmy ain’t gonna be long for this world.”
    â€œThat’s a damn lie!” Jimmy yelled, one hand covering the bloody hole in his belly. “I ain’t gonna die. I’m gonna collect that bounty money.”
    â€œNo, you ain’t,” a man told him. “So why don’t you just do us all a favor? Shut your mouth, lay down and close your eyes, and die.”
    â€œYou black-hearted son of a bitch!” Jimmy said.
    Frank stood at the end of the bar and watched in silence. It was nothing new to him; he’d seen it all before, many times.
    â€œDid somebody go for the doc?” Jimmy asked.
    â€œNope,” he was told.
    â€œIt’s rainin’ outside,” another said. “And cold.”
    â€œYou bastard!” Jimmy said.
    â€œWell, now, that just might be true. I can’t take no offense at that. My pa was a man with a wanderin’ eye, for sure.”
    Hard waves of pain hit the man, and he trembled at the shock of it, then screamed, “Oh, God, I hurt so bad!”
    â€œThat’s what you get when you play with guns, Jimmy,” a gunny said in hard, rough humor, and the others laughed.
    â€œDamn y’all to the hellfires!” Jimmy said.
    The front door opened and a very irritated and rumpled Doc Raven walked in.
    â€œThe one stretched out on the floor with half a head is dead, Doc,” a man said. “The one on his knees probably ain’t long for this world.”
    â€œThank you,” Doc Raven said very sarcastically, pushing his way through the crowd. He knelt down beside Jimmy and tried to pull the wounded man’s hands away from his bloody stomach. He