Free The Fall of Rome by Beth Ciotta

neck. A tin star hung from his sweat-stained shirt. “This,” Snapper said, “is what I guess passes as the law in this one-horse town. I’m guessing he serves more tax notices than justice. Came runnin’ down the middle of the street still strappin’ on his hardware. Lost hold of the buckle when Boyd sent a bullet whizzin’ past his ear.” Snapper wrinkled his nose. “Pissed his pants, too.”
    Elroy was happy for a reason to look away from the barkeep’s bloody stump.
    Bulls-Eye strode over to the piss-pants sheriff. “I’m looking for the owner of this place.”
    “Jane Murdock?” the man croaked.
    “If you say so.”
    The sheriff’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he looked over and saw Bulls-Eye’s handiwork. “Rode out two days ago with a couple of men.”
    The barkeep finally spoke. “Shut your trap, Gus.”
    “Fond of your fingers and toes?” Bulls-Eye asked the wide-eyed sheriff.
    The boy nodded.
    “Then I’d ignore Stumpy over there and flap your gums. Those men got names?”
    “Not that I caught, but one of them looked familiar. I’d swear he was one of--”
    “Dammit, Gus,” Pratt bellowed. “Shut the hell--” Bulls-Eye whirled and shot and, lickety split, Johnson Pratt was pushin’ up daisies. Leastwise, Elroy thought, he wouldn’t lose anymore toes.
    Bulls-Eye worked his bandaged shoulder, turned back to the twitchy sheriff. “You were saying?”
    “He looked like one of the Garrett Brothers,” he droned, eyes riveted on Pratt’s bloody corpse. “You know. One of those detectives from the dime novels.”
    The room got real quiet, and Elroy braced himself for an ugly moment. Bulls-Eye hated the Garretts, especially the one who’d seduced Kat first.
    “Fucking Rome Garrett,” Bulls-Eye said in an eerily calm voice.
    No doubt about it , Elroy thought. This is bad.
    “Overheard something about Tucson,” Gus spewed through chattering teeth. “A poker tournament. That’s all I know, mister. Swear.”
    Chewing over the information, Bulls-Eye tapped his revolver against his thigh. “I believe you, Gus. Take a seat.”
    The man wilted into a chair, and Elroy ventured out loud, “You don’t think they’re back together, do you, Jed? I mean, I didn’t see hide nor hair of Rome the night I was here.
    Didn’t hear no mention of him neither. From what I saw, Kat only had smiles for Pratt over there and . . .” He trailed off, his own stupid rambling echoing in his ears.
    “Thank you for the detailed report, Elroy,” Bulls-Eye rasped, plugging Pratt with a second bullet even though he was already dead.
    “Here it is!” Amos smacked a page of the newspaper he’d found on one of the tables. “Week from today. High-stakes poker tournament hosted by Foster’s Gambling Emporium.” “If that’s the case,” Itchy pointed out, “Tucson will be a hotbed of activity. One of them professional gamblers might recognize you from the old days, boss.”
    “Heard they got a real sheriff in that city,” Snapper said, throwing a smirk Gus’s way. “There’s a fort nearby, too. Not that I’m teilin’ ya anything you don’t know, Bulls-Eye.”
    “I hear you.” He nabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured a double. “Give me a minute.”
    While he sipped and thought on the matter, Mule burst through the back door. “Kept searchin’ her place like ya said, boss. Found a hidden drawer in the back of her wardrobe. Some dime novels featuring the Garrett Brothers in there, couple of newspapers--one running an article about our latest heist--and a bundle of letters from a Sister Maria.” He thrust out a folded missive. “This is the most recent.” Cheroot clamped between his teeth, Bulls-Eye nabbed the letter and read. “Niece, huh?”
    Elroy and the rest of the gang stood silent while their leader devoured three more letters. He looked as cool as a skunk in the moonlight, but Elroy knew better. He could see his cousin’s wheels turnin’. Could feel the intensity of his brewing