Free Sudden--Troubleshooter (A Sudden Western) #5 by Frederick H. Christian Page A

to come
over so I could introduce myself proper. I didn’t want to give the
impression I was huntin’ yu up.’
    ‘All right,’ Appleby said
shortly. ‘Yu made yore point.’
    ‘I’m Wesley Cameron,
Marshal,’ the man said.
    A collective gasp escaped
the lips of the knot of onlookers clustered outside the saloon. The
news of their summary ejection by the
stranger had spread quickly, and perhaps thirty men were now
gathered on the sidewalk, craning their necks to see what was going
on inside.
    ‘It’s Wes Cameron,’ the
oldster nearest the door announced to the others in an awed voice,
and the name was passed in a whisper around the group as they
craned their necks even harder to catch a glimpse of this
cold-faced stranger, owner of a name to strike a chill into the
most hardened of hearts. Wesley Cameron! Few present had not heard
the name. The man was a walking legend, one of the breed that had
included Hickok and Billy the Kid and Johnny Hardin. Cameron, it
was said, had cleaned up Galeyville, had been on the losing side in
the Lincoln County troubles, and had won a reputation as a
cold-blooded killer in the Texas Salt Wars. He was always just on
the right side of the law, was said to have always given his man an
even break. It was also rumored – although no one had ever dared to
voice the rumor in Cameron’s presence – that he was a hired gun,
one of that bloodless breed who would, for pay, force another man
into a situation which could only be resolved by gunplay. All of
this, and more, was part of the gabble of whispering that
circulated in the crowd outside Tyler’s as Tom Appleby digested
this news.
    ‘I’ve heard o’ yu,’ the
Marshal told the newcomer. ‘What do yu want with me?’
    ‘Just declarin’ myself,
Marshal,’ Cameron said with a wolfish smile. ‘I’m aimin’ to spend a
while in yore delightful mee-tropolis, an’ I wanted to start off
right.’ Appleby nodded, and Cameron continued. ‘I’m a
peaceful hombre ,
Marshal, an’ I ain’t huntin’ no trouble.’ He spread his hands. ‘But
yu know how it is. I turn up someplace, an’ some damn’ fool has to
try an’ find out if I’m as fast as they say.’
    ‘Yu ain’t likely to run
into that kind o’ trouble here,’ Appleby said levelly.
    ‘I shore hope not,’ Cameron
said. His smile was nearly sincere as he added, ‘But just in case …
well, I been in some towns where the Law warn’t exactly …
impartial.’
    ‘Cameron,’ the Marshal
said. ‘Yu’ll get the same treatment in Yavapai that any peaceable
citizen gets – as long as yu stay
peaceable. If there’s any trouble’ He pointed a finger at Cameron’s
pearl-handled revolver. ‘Yu better have a good reason for bein’ in
it! Yu step out o’ line an’ I’ll have to take yu in.’
    ‘Hell, Marshal,’ Cameron
smiled, the wolfish expression back on his face, ‘I’d hate that. I
ain’t never killed a Marshal yet.’
    The insult hovered in the air, bait waiting
to be taken; but the Marshal did not rise to it.
    ‘How long yu figger to
stay?’ he asked.
    ‘Long as it
takes.’
    ‘Yu mind tellin’ me yore
business here?’
    ‘Shore do.’ The reply was
flat and cold and Cameron’s manner was baitingly watchful. Appleby,
however, just shrugged.
    ‘Yore business,’ was all he
said. ‘But remember what I said: yu pull one more stunt like
treein’ Tyler’s saloon an’ I’ll run yu in.’
    Cameron nodded, a faint
smile lingering about his lips. ‘Just wanted a mite o’ privacy,
Marshal,’ he said. Raising his voice he called out, ‘Hey! Yu gents
out there come on in! I’m buyin’ drinks for everyone! Come on, come
on in!’
    The crowd outside looked at
each other for reassurance, and those in front shuffled their feet
hesitantly as the gunman repeated his invitation, louder this time.
One man, bolder than the rest, pushed in through the doors, and
then, slowly, the others followed, almost mesmerized by the fact
that the famous, the infamous