Free Law Of the Desert Born (Ss) (1984) by Louis L'amour

hunched near the blacksmith shop, jerked back from sight. Jim hesitated, alert to danger, then quickly pushed on.
    The red and white barber pole marked the frame building. Jim opened the door and stepped in. A sleeping man snored with his mouth open, his back to the street wall. The bald barber looked up, swallowed, and stepped back.
    Wing Cary sat in the chair, his hair half-trimmed, the white cloth draped around him. The opening door and sudden silence made him look up. "You, is it?" he said. Ifs me. We found Jim Walker. He marked your name, Cary, as his killer."
    Cary's lips tightened, and suddenly a gun bellowed, and something slammed Jim Gatlin in the shoulder and spun him like a top, smashing him sidewise into the door. That first shot saved him from the second. Wing Cary had held a gun in his lap and fired through the white cloth. There was sneering triumph in his eyes, and as though time stood still, Jim Gatlin saw the smoldering of the black-rimmed circles of the holes in the cloth.
    He never remembered firing, but suddenly Cary's body jerked sharply, and Jim felt the gun buck in his hand. He fired again then, and Wing's face twisted and his gun exploded into the floor, narrowly missing his own foot.
    Wing started to get up, and Gatlin fired the third time, the shot nicking Wing's ear and smashing a shaving cup, spattering lather. The barber was on his knees in one corner, holding a chair in front of him. The sleeping man had dived through the window, glass and all.
    Men came running, and Jim leaned back against the door. One of the men was Doc, and he saw Sheriff Eaton, and then Lisa tore them aside and ran to him. Oh, you're hurt! You've been shot! You've . . . !"
    His feet gave away slowly, and he slid down the door to the floor. Wing Cary still sat in the barbershop, his hair half-clipped.
    Doc stepped in and glanced at him, then at the barber. "You can't charge him for it, Tony. You never finished!"

    *
    Author's Note:

BODIE
    There was a time when a man with a few drinks under his belt who wished to impress people would proclaim himself a "Badman from Bodie!"
    Bodie, California, was a rich camp, and a tough one. On one day in 1880 they had three shootings and two stage holdups, and the town was just getting warmed up. Another man noted six shootings in one week and made no mention of various, knifings, cuttings, or other passages of arms.
    In approximately three years, from 1879 to 1881, miners took something over $30 million in gold from the mines of Bodie. Laundrymen were getting rich panning out the dirt they washed from miners' clothing.
    It is reported that Rough-and-Tumble Jack, Bodie's first badman, was explaining how tough he was when someone saw fit to challenge him. He and his antagonist went outside and opened fire on each other-at point-blank range. Rough-and-Tumble Jack staggered back into the saloon, but his opponent, with one arm broken, reloaded his gun by holding it between his knees and then went back into the saloon and finished the job. jack became one of the first to bed down in Bodie's Boot Hill.
    Much of the town still remains, although a fire in 1932 swept away many of its buildings.
    *

DESERT DEATH SONG
    When Jim Morton rode up to the fire, three unshaven men huddled there warming themselves and drinking hot coffee. Morton recognized Chuck Benson from the Slash Five. The other men were strangers.
    "Howdy, Chuck!" Morton said. "He still in there?" "Sure is!" Benson told him. "An' it don't look like he's figurin' on comin' out .
    "I don't reckon to blame him. Must be a hundred men scattered about."
    "Nigher two hundred, but you know Nat Bodine. Shakin' him out of these hils is going to be tougher'n shaking a possum out of a tree."
    The man with the black beard stubble looked up sourly. "He wouldn't last long if they'd let us go in after him! I'd sure roust him out of there fast enough!"
    Morton eyed the man with distaste. "You think so. That means you don't know Bodine. Goin' in after him