Free A Coffin Full Of Dollars by Joe Millard Page A

You forgot to take his gun."
    "I didn't forget, Max, but what good'll it do him unless he can draw and shoot with his teeth? Drag him inside and I'll get it just before we let go of his wrists."
    They started to haul the bounty hunter into the open cell but the doorway was not wide enough for the three abreast. To keep their holds, either the sheriff or the deputy had to go through first. Both started simultaneously to take the lead and the hunter made his play.
    His powerful muscles swelled as he threw himself backward. At the same time he put all his strength into bringing his arms forward and around. His captors, caught off balance, were pulled together, their heads meeting with a hollow thock! Neither was knocked out by the impact but they were both stunned.
    The hunter tore his wrists loose and gave the two a shove that sent them reeling into the cell, to slam into the wall and sprawl in a heap on the floor. Before they could untangle, he slammed the cell door, turned the huge iron key standing in the lock and snatched it out. He was out the jail door a split second before the two got their guns out and two slugs crashed into door as he slammed it.
    The two were bawling curses and threats, but the heavy door muffled the sound so that little could be heard outside. The bounty hunter dropped the cell key into the narrow space between the iron safe and the wall. The front door key was in the lock. He went out, locked the office door and dropped the key through a crack in the boardwalk. He strolled leisurely to his horse, mounted and rode unhurriedly off.
    At the edge of town a big man in a frock coat was sitting on a black horse beside the road. He was holding a pistol with an immensely long barrel and a skeletal rifle stock screwed to the butt. The Y-shaped scar on his cheek was livid with fury.
    "You locoed idiot! You goddam all-time prize fool! With a fortune riding on you, what in God's name ever possessed you to stick your stupid head in where half the population would be overjoyed to blow it off? Do you know that when you turned your back on that sheriff, he reached for his gun? I had a bead on him and I'd have shot first if he tried to draw it. Then hanging around to let yourself get picked up by him and that deputy—that was the dumbest stunt of all."
    His voice was thick and shaking with the intensity of his rage. The hunter studied him coldly.
    "There was nothing in our agreement that said I had to have your permission to go where I please, when I please. I've managed to survive pretty well so far without you wet-nursing me." He reined his horse around and started off.
    "Damn you!" Shadrach yelled. "Where the hell do you think you're going now?"
    "Why," the hunter said, "back to the circus, of course. Dandy will be having fits, wondering where I am, and I want to clean and oil all my guns before today's performance."
    Shadrach slapped his forehead. "Oh, my God! Now I've heard everything! I don't know how you got away from those two but they didn't just pat you on the back and tell you to run along." He slapped a small, collapsible telescope on a thong looped over the saddle horn. "I saw you lock the sheriff's door and drop the key through the sidewalk. So, whatever you did to them, they'll break out or somebody'll break in all too soon. They'll come after you and there you'll be, like a crippled duck in a rain barrel, just waiting to be caught. What do you intend to do when they show up?"
    "Why," the hunter said mildly, "I hadn't given it a thought. Liven up my act with a little extra gunplay, I suppose."
    CHAPTER 12
    The tent and equipment were set up, the props arranged and everything in readiness for the afternoon's performance by the time the bounty hunter rode in. Dandy was pacing back and forth like a caged tiger in front of the stage. He planted his fist on his hips and glared.
    "Where the hell have you been? You've been gone almost five hours. Haven't I got enough worries on my mind without wondering if