There’s a warning in there, I’m positive. One he’s hoping I’ll heed, because I suspect he has as little interest as I do in this taking a turn. Him because he’s yet to have earned his money back, plus whatever amount he planned to add to it. Me because I have no interest in observing firsthand how Maddock or one ofhis crews ended up leaving a man dead outside of San Antonio.
I’d been out with the herd when it happened. I’d been doing what I thought I ought to be doing that time, but maybe it still counts against me regardless.
“How right you are. Always best to be prudent,” Maddock replies to Cypress, his agreement pulling my gaze back to him. “That how you killed so many, Aiden? Knowing how to beprudentabout your battles?”
The saloon goes quiet as one conversation dies away, then another and then another, as more people catch wind of what’s going on. Although, honestly, it’s hard for me to hear the silence over the rushing in my ears.
“That’s enough,” the older man cuts in again, and I really wish he wouldn’t. He doesn’t need to out of some misguided sense of duty. “If you’re implying—”
“I’m notimplyinganything,” Maddock replies with a shrug. “Just curious how many of those famous duels were against men who actually knew their way around a weapon. Maybe if he’d had some real competition…perhaps the papers would have read different? Not socomplimentaryafter all.”
Maddock steps toward me, and Cypress casts another warning glance my way before calmly saying to him, “I think we need—”
“What weneedis a demonstration. Otherwise, how do we even know he is who he says he is?” Maddock asks, and I think the older man cuts in with another warning, one that I mostly miss because I’m too busy watching Cypress move to put himself more firmly between me and my employer.
“Maddock, whatever it is you’re hoping to prove—”
“Won’t need to prove anything. Not after everyone sees,” Maddock counters, pushing past Cypress and weaving closer to me through the tables. “This is about twenty paces, isn’t it? Maybe not quite.”
“Maddock,” I say, my left hand up as my right hovers nearmy holster, which conveniently hides the fact my fingers are shaking. “Let’s take this outside.”
“Why?” He laughs. “Are you telling me you’reactuallygoing to grab for that gun?” He nods at the pistol in my belt. “Never seen you so much as look at it.”
“Haven’t had a reason to,” I reply, keeping an eye on Maddock while also trying to keep his men in my periphery. All of them look ready to reach for a weapon themselves—well, all of them except the kid, who is white as a sheet as he lingers near the front door. “You going to give me one?”
“I want to see what all the fuss is about,” Maddock continues. “And I’m sure I can’t be the only one.”
The man who approached me earlier also seems to have noticed the kid’s quick escape path because he’s shifted quietly his way, bending to whisper something in his ear before the kid nods and slips out the door.
“I think I just need to see it for myself,” Maddock says. “Have my own chance to weigh in on the myth.” He smirks. “You know, I’ve been told I’m pretty fast. Prettydamnfast.”
“Outside,” I offer again, doing an obvious look around the room this time as a reminder of the others present. “We don’t want someone getting hurt.”
He looks around too, as if this has only now occurred to him, but instead of innocent bystanders, he merely sees an audience. “We won’t really shoot. We’ll just see…” Maddock’s hand starts to stray toward his own belt beneath his coat. “We’ll see who’s really the better man after all. On the count of four?”
Fuck, is he actually…
“One.” Maddock smiles, then widens his stance as if he’s bracing for the rush of a bull rather than a bullet. Something that might have been funny if it didn’t also let me know there’s a fairly good chance that even if he doesn’t intend to shoot me, he still might out of sheer ignorance.
“Two.” I wonder how many of Maddock’s men will shoot at me if I take their boss down. No matter if I only aim to wound. My gaze lands on each of them in a rapid assessment, stopping when I reach Cypress. The only one who meets my eyes.
“Three.” Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head. Expression pleading with me to trust him, but there’s no reason for me to. Not one that makes any sense.Noneof this makes any sense.
“Four.” Maddock reaches, and I…I don’t.Fuck, I—
“Thehellis my gun?” Maddock’s outburst brings my attention to him in time to see him staring blankly at his empty holster. “Who took it?”
It takes everything in my power not to look right at Cypress again, even after he’s turning toward the table as if helping to search. “Are you sure you had it with you? Perhaps you left it back at the hotel this evening?”
“Who do you take me for?” Maddock protests, sounding more like an angry child. “I never leave without my—”
“What’s going on in here?” a new voice cracks in, booming from the front door. A burly-looking man more than twice my age strides in without waiting for an answer, rifle already in hand and a shiny sheriff’s badge on his chest. “No one had better be starting something in my town.”
“No, sir,” Maddock says, perfectly pleasant again as he turns, and I wonder if he’s also seen the kid sneaking back in behind the law. “We were just heading out for the evening.”
“That right?” the sheriff asks, highly suspicious as he switches from glaring at Maddock and me to looking elsewhere for confirmation. “Everything good here, Clay?”
The man with the cigar nods, solidifying my belief that he is a local. “S’alright I think now, Ben. Appreciate you coming down in the middle of the night.”