Twin Guns

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It's building up, Kirby thought.

The smell of trouble, big trouble, hung thick in the air of the Gold Nugget. Kirby's thoughts went racing. Maybe not tonight, or tomorrow night. But it will come just as sure as winter snows will soon cover the range; maybe by spring. Winter is no time for fighting… except for the yearly battle of cattlemen against the elements. In winter men thought first of their animals, then of themselves.

Kirby finished his beer and signaled to Joe, the barkeep, for another. He, too, could feel the tension building up. Joe got a fresh glass and drew another beer, his usual wide smile hidden by the furrows of a worried frown. He wanted to say something, Kirby realized, but he didn't dare bring it out in the open. Should I tell him not to worry? Kirby decided against it. Never know what will happen, he mused. Maybe tonight's the night. He took the fresh beer and, glass in hand, walked across the floor to a table against the wall.

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