Free Autumn of the Gun by RALPH COMPTON

supper. Then we got some talkin’ to do.”
    Holt listened while Nathan unfolded the story, concluding with his plan to force the gambler, Rutledge Jackman, to lead them to the stolen McQueen horses.
    â€œIf he leads us to the stolen horses,” said Holt, “that’s all the proof I’d need or want. You realize, of course, that we must call on them to surrender and take them alive if we can.”
    â€œYeah,” Nathan said. “I’ve been behind the badge myself. But don’t go gettin’ your hopes up. This bunch will have four horses, no bills of sale, and two witnesses alive and able to identify them.”
    â€œWhatever happens,” said Vivian, “I feel better having you here. Nathan would have gone after them alone.”
    â€œI’m known in Shreveport,” Holt said. “I’ll have to remain outside of town until it’s time to take Jackman’s trail. When he rides out, look for me to the south, along the Red.”
    â€œBe there at first light,” said Nathan. “We don’t know when that telegram will reach Jackman’s friend, the sheriff.”
    â€œI’ll be ready,” Holt said.
    Nathan and Vivian rode on toward Shreveport.
    â€œYou didn’t plan to take them alive, did you?” Vivian asked.
    â€œNo,” said Nathan. “I reckon I can’t blame Silver, keepin’ me within the law. He once went to court in Kansas City to defend me against a charge of murder.” 7

Shreveport June 28, 1877
    â€œI’m going back to the Five Aces Saloon,” Nathan said. “The telegram from New Orleans should arrive sometime tomorrow, and I want to be sure Jackman’s there to get word of it.”
    Empty remained with Vivian at the boardinghouse while Nathan made his way to the saloon. For a Thursday night, business seemed exceptionally good, and there were three poker games in progress. Nathan went to the bar and ordered a beer, waiting for his eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. Looking around, he recognized none of the men at the tables. Several newcomers bellied up to the bar, and one of them said something that caught Nathan’s attention.
    â€œMy money’s on that big black gelding of Jackman’s. It should be some race.”
    â€œYeah,” said his companion, “but it’s near two hunnert miles to Little Rock.”
    â€œGents,” Nathan said, “I couldn’t help overhearin’ talk about a race in Little Rock, and I’d admire to know when it’s goin’ to be.”
    â€œJuly fourth,” said one of the men. “Quarter mile. Five-thousand-dollar purse.”
    â€œThanks,” Nathan said.
    Finishing his beer, he was about to leave when one of the house dealers knocked on a door beyond the farthest end of the bar. Jackman opened the door, the dealer entered, and the door was closed. Jackman was in town to receive word of the telegram being sent to the sheriff, and that answered another of Nathan’s questions. He returned to the boarding house.
    â€œThat didn’t take long,” said Vivian.
    â€œMostly, I wanted to be sure Jackman’s in town,” Nathan said, “and he is. But while I was in the saloon, I learned there’s going to be a big race at Little Rock on July fourth, and it seems Jackman’s planning to enter McQueen’s Diablo.”
    â€œUnless he gets slapped in the face with a good reason not to,” said Vivian. “Like the telegram from New Orleans.”
    â€œThat’s goin’ to leave him in an almighty embarrassin’ position,” Nathan said. “I overheard two men discussing Jackman’s big black, and that’s how I learned about the race. I’d say, from their conversation, the black is a recently acquired horse. It almost has to be McQueen’s Diablo.”
    â€œIf he’s committed himself to entering Diablo in that race,” said Vivian, “how’s