Free Cowboys & Devils (Devil Aster Days Book 3) by Mitchell Olson

Part 1: Outlaw From Hell
     
    Texas, 1884.
     
    A large and dangerous racket headed towards the small and defenseless settlement of Granger. A wild bunch of men acting more like beasts, they fired their guns into the air and screamed as loud as their whiskey-soaked throats could manage. They wanted everyone to know they were coming, to take warning and stay out of their way. By the time they arrived on the dirty main drag of Granger, guns still a-blazing, the street was already cleared out. The people of Granger were smart enough to stay indoors.
    The unruly gang of degenerates hitched their tired, panting horses outside of the saloon. They hustled inside eager to wet their gullets with more alcohol they had no intention of paying for. The leader of the gang led the way, bursting through the swinging door entryway with so much force the thin flapping doors almost fell off the hinges.
    Without a word, the gang leader glanced around the saloon. He sized up the joint while his gang lined up behind him. The bartender stood behind the bar idly wiping down the counter, trying not to look as troubled as he felt. Near the stairs a line of women waited to get a look at their prospects, twirling their hair in an attempt to look younger and more enticing. A lone man sat at the grand piano in a darkened corner of the room, his back turned to the entrance.
    The bar was empty save for the pianist, the women, and the bartender. They were the only ones who stuck around to deal with the notorious crook and his gang come to town. The gang’s leader cleared his throat. The pianist turned to face him.
    With all eyes on him, the gang leader spoke.
    “Howdy y’all!” he said, his voice full of cheer. His gang remained still in their lineup behind him, making sure their guns were plenty visible. They smiled through dirty teeth, the kind of smiles that let you know you’re about to not be okay.
    “ My name is Ulric. Maybe you’ve heard of me. I’m kind of new to these parts, but most folks have been awfully kind to me so far. These are my boys. Say hi boys!”
    The boys cast their lustful grins towards the women. Some gave a polite wave. Others took their hats off, revealing nasty crops of greasy, dirty, or in some cases missing hair. The bartender, being a seasoned owner, had seen his fair share of nasty outlaws inside his establishment. He didn’t so much as flinch at them.
    “What’ll it be?” the bartender asked Ulric. “Our doors will remain open as long as you don’t start any trouble.”
    “And trouble you will avoid, so long as you serve us kindly,” said Ulric , stepping closer to the bar. “See, we’ve just been riding for so long that it seems we’ve all forgotten what a good time feels like. I think you should be flattered that we’ve chosen to spend our time in your lovely establishment.”
    The bartender inhaled sharply through his nose. “You got money?”
    “Money?” Ulric repeated. The man looked perplexed for a moment.
    The pianist’s eye wandered across the room, far away from the safety of his ivory keys. He studied Ulric’s gang, already taking their seats among the emptied-out bar. The pianist counted seven men, including Ulric. He turned his attention back to the keys, for now. The melody he played was soft and relaxing, and he hoped it would help in lowering the tension in the room.
    “Money…” Ulric repeated, leaning against the bar. He took everyone by surprise suddenly when he hopped up, parking his butt on the bar counter.
    “Of course we have money!” he said to the barkeep, a warm smile spread across his handsome face. Ulric was a good-looking man, not like his dirty gang of degenerates. Besides his hygiene and physical appearance, it was clear that Ulric was on a different level than his men. It was easy to tell in the way he conversed so freely, so naturally, and with such a sharp vocabulary.
    “We have loads of money,” Ulric went on. “We got more than enough money from robbing the