Pursuit Of The Mountain Man

Начало книги

The young man had been eyeballing the quiet stranger for several minutes. The young man stood at the bar, sipping whiskey. The quiet stranger sat at a table, his back to a wall, slowly eating his supper and sipping coffee. The young man couldn’t understand why the stranger didn’t take offense to his staring; couldn’t understand why the tough-looking stranger wearing two guns didn’t reply to his silent insults.

He just sat there, eating his supper and drinking coffee.

The young man concluded the stranger was yellow.

“Kid,” the barkeep finally said, “I’d leave that man alone. He’s got bad stamped all over him.”

“You know him?”

“Nope. But I know the type. Leave him be.”

“He don’t look like nothin’ special to me.”

“Your funeral,” the barkeep said, and moved to the other end of the bar.

Jack Lynch looked at the barkeep and snorted in disgust. Jack had four notches cut into his gun and was considered by some-in this part of the country-to be very quick on the shoot. He was considered by others to be a loud-mouthed punk who was going to drag iron on the wrong man one day.

Читать дальше →