Free One-Man Massacre by Jonas Ward Page A

had even less excuse. I pointed a loaded gun at that son, whoever he was, for no better reason than I was sore at him."
    "I talked without thinking, Buchanan," Billy Neale said. "Sorry."
    "Not as much as I am. Also much obliged, which is more important. Damned if I could have kept opening that door."
    "You would."
    "I don't know," Buchanan said. "A man likes to think he would, but I don't know."
    "It was a wonderful, brave thing," Rosemarie added.
    "And I'm living proof of it," Buchanan said. "I was there!"
    "If you're trying to pull my stinger, mister," Neale said, then smiled, "well, you've done it. I'll go see what I can do about a shirt and pants." He looked the big man over again and shook his head. "Going to fit damn quick, I promise you that."
    The cowboy left, and left a silence behind him. Not a tranquil, comfortable sort of quiet, but an electric one, charged with the woman's awareness of the bare-waisted man and his awareness of her interest.
    Rosemarie spoke into it, uneasily.
    "Even if you get another outfit," she said, "you can't travel anywhere. Not yet, Tom."
    "You don't happen to smoke, do you?" Buchanan asked.
    "Smoke?"
    "Somewhere along the line," he said wistfully, "I lost my makings. A little tobacco would be fine right now."
    "Would there be any in a hardware shop?" Rosemarie wondered, momentarily untracked from her main subject —as he had intended.
    "Not likely."
    "I ’ ll ask for some in the Glasgow," she offered. "You wait right here, now."
    "I ’ ll wait."
    Neale returned first, bring ing a rider's work shirt of dur able flannel and twill trousers with reinforced knee pads.
    "These are brand new," Buchanan said, feeling the cl oth respectfully.
    "Bought 'em this evening," Neale admitted, "Must've h ad a premonition."
    "How much they set you back?'
    "Bought 'em at the company store. Forget about it."
    "Ten dollars?"
    "Not half. Where's Rosemarie?"
    "Beggin' me some tobacco."
    "Hell, I got some. Here."
    "Got my own, thanks."
    "Then how come —"
    "Just hoping you'd get back first," Buchanan explained, peeling off the remnants of the trousers with an effort, having to sit down on the cot again while he slowly put his legs through the new ones.
    "You're really going to leave tonight?"
    "Got to."
    "And you're afraid she'll hold you back?"
    Buchanan pushed himself to his feet and pulled the shirt around his shoulders. As Neale had warned, the out fit was snug. He began to button it across his chest, la boriously, when the cowboy realized there had been no answer to his question.
    "Must be tough, Buchanan —girl like Rosemarie throw ing herself at you."
    The tall man continued to dress himself, stuffed the shirttail deep into the trousers, still not answering. But then his eyes lost their preoccupied look and focused in tently on Neale's face.
    "You bet it's tough," he said, almost threateningly. And that was all he said, leaving the other man puzzled.
    "I'd trade places with you," Neale said.
    "And do what different?" Buchanan asked, moving slowly across the small room to the desk where Smith kept his books. He found a marking pencil there and a sheet of yellow paper.
    "I'd take her with me," Neale said. "Wherever I was going."
    "No you wouldn't," Buchanan told him without inter rupting his writing. "Not if you'd ever been where I'm going." He straightened up then, carried the paper back to Neale, and handed it to him. To Mr. B. Neale, it read. I.O.U. ten (10) dollars gold, U.S.A. currency. T. Bu chanan.
    "You're a stubborn son," Neale told him.
    "Must be." He held out his big hand. "So long, Billy Neale," he said.
    Neale shook the hand. "Where's your horse at? I'll walk you there."
    "Had a horse four months ago," Buchanan said. "Traded him for a burro team —" he grinned—"and the burros died on the mountain."
    Neale shook his head. "Man, you're really hard up, aren't you?"
    "Not according to my partner. He tells me I'm worth a couple of million, at least. See you in church," he said from the