Free Between Hell and Texas by Dusty Richards

cowpie-looking wool hat as he headed out.
    â€œSee ya. Glad you’re getting around better.”
    â€œThanks. I’m about fine.”
    â€œYeah, you’s look it, Chet.”
    â€œTell Ollie hi.”
    â€œOh, I will. You be coming to the dance Saturday night at the schoolhouse?”
    Chet considered it and nodded as the man went on out with his arms full of purchases.
    Susie turned back. “Are we going?”
    â€œYes.”
    Walking up the aisle ahead of Chet, she rocked her head from side to side, obviously wondering about his change of mind. His order from months earlier was that the family should not attend the supper and dance because it was too dangerous, so they had stayed away all winter from the neighborhood affair. He stood behind her as she waited for a gray-haired woman who was giving the young clerk her order.
    â€œWhat made you change your mind?” she asked under her breath.
    â€œOur family has lived here for years. We should have the right to go where we want.”
    She agreed with Chet and smiled at the lady in front, arguing that the price for an elixir was too much. The poor youth was red-faced. “Sorry, but that is the price marked on it, ma’am.”
    Grossman, hearing the problem, came over and told him not to charge her at all for the medicine. He smiled and told her he was sorry things cost so much, and waved at Chet, then went off to solve another problem. At that point Chet knew he could never run a mercantile—he didn’t have the patience for the job. Her shopping began to look lengthy, so he excused himself and went over to Casey’s Saloon and spoke to the bartender himself.
    â€œGood to see you,” Casey said. “Missed you dropping in lately.”
    Chet agreed and ordered a draft beer. He turned and looked over the dimly lit card game. Several unemployed cowboys and a few gamblers around the table were making bets and tossing in hands. No threat in those men, he turned back to enjoy the beer.
    â€œYou miss not going to Kansas?” Casey polished the glass in his hand.
    Chet looked at him and shook his head. “I miss it like I would a dog biting me and he let go.”
    Casey laughed. Chet saw the flicker in his eyes when the swinging doors creaked. Slow like, Casey cast a gaze at the two men who came in and then turned back to the polished glass in a stack.
    â€œWho are they?” Chet asked, not recalling them.
    â€œKyle Denton and Dick Reckles,” Casey said softly “They’re kin to the Reynoldses somewhere.” He moved down the bar to serve them.
    â€œI didn’t know you let shit like him in this place?” one of the pair asked.
    â€œWatch your tongue,” Casey said. “You don’t like my customers, take your business elsewhere.”
    â€œBy damn, we will. I ain’t drinking with a damn boy-killer. Come on, Dick.”
    When they were behind Chet’s back, the younger one challenged him. “You got the guts to draw on a real man?”
    â€œYou go for that gun, Denton, you won’t live one second,” Casey said.
    Chet could see the saloon owner was already armed with a sawed-off shotgun pointed at Denton. The bartender’s speed shocked him, but it might have saved him from being shot when he turned around.
    â€œCasey, you chose the wrong side,” the youngest shouted, and they hurried out the batwing doors.
    Chet dropped his face. He couldn’t even drink a simple beer in peace in his own town. He slapped a dime on the bar and shook his head. “Sorry, Casey, I simply wanted a beer.”
    â€œDon’t apologize. He ain’t worth two cents. No loss for me.”
    He thanked the man and went back to the buckboard, but not before searching the street for any sign of them.
    Susie came off the store porch, holding up her dress hem. “You get into something?”
    â€œTwo of them chose not to drink in a saloon I