Slip Gun by J.T. Edson

swung to face him.
    ‘ Just
take your cotton-picking hand offen the lady,’ Smith
ordered.
    Annoyance glinted on the young
man ’s
handsome face as he looked at the speaker. Clearly he considered
himself to be a person of privilege and authority, who should not
be addressed in such a manner by a stranger. Releasing Lily’s arm,
he stabbed his hand under the left side of his jacket.
    ‘ Who
the hell do you think you’re talk—?’
    ‘ Boy!’
Smith cut in, barely louder than at a whisper. ‘Unless that hand
comes straight out and empty, I’ll draw on you. And I never fetch
my gun out unless I’m fixing to kill the man who made me pull
it.’
    A hush fell on the tables
nearest to the scene and spread across the room. Smith stood with
his gloved thumbs tucked into his waistband, eyes fixed firmly on
Stanley ’s
face. There was something in the Texan’s gaze which made the young
man look away.
    ‘ What’s
this, Lily?’ Stanley hissed, bringing his empty right hand into
view. ‘Have you started fetching in-—’
    ‘ If
you’re fixing to say what I figure you are,’ Smith interrupted in
the same flat, yet savage voice. ‘Don’t.’
    ‘ If you
want broke money, Stanley—’ Lily began.
    ‘ I
don’t want, nor need, your charity!’ the young man blazed, then
spun on his heel and stamped out of the building.
    ‘ Who
was that?’ Smith inquired, as talk rose all around and the various
activities of the customers resumed.
    ‘ Stanley Jeffreys,’ the blonde replied, a mocking smile
twisting at her lips. ‘Our esteemed mayor’s younger
brother.’

Chapter Seven –
The Mayor of Widow’s Creek
    ‘ Come
this way, please, Mr. Smith,’ requested the lanky,
miserable-featured bank teller with an air of solemn
politeness.
    The time was ten
o ’clock on
the morning after Smith’s arrival in Widow’s Creek and he had come
to interview his prospective employer.
    After Stanley
Jeffreys ’
departure, the Texan had spent an enjoyable evening at the Happy
Bull saloon. Receiving no other introduction than ‘Mr. Wax Smith of
Texas,’ he had been accepted by the other customers. In fact, he
had been accorded their respect when it had become obvious that he
was regarded favorably by Lily Shivers. Although he had heard
plenty about the various sporting and social events proposed for
the forthcoming county fair, he had received no hint of why the
mayor might require his specialized services.
    When Smith had suggested that
Wil Jeffreys might come and complain about the disrespect shown to
his younger brother, there had been much hilarity. He had been
assured that the mayor would never think of entering a saloon.
Wishing to avoid arousing Lily ’s suspicions, Smith had let the matter drop.
Probably Jeffreys belonged to one of the religious sects which
disapproved of drinking and other pleasures connected with saloons.
Putting off further attempts at obtaining information about the
mayor, Smith had settled down to enjoy himself.
    Having spent a comfortable night
at the Simple Hotel, Smith had risen late. He had breakfasted, made
use of the hotel ’s barber’s shop and, neatly-dressed and clean-shaven, set
off to meet the mayor. Remembering that Wil Jeffreys was also the
banker, he had called in at the bank. On seeing the telegraph
message which had brought him to Wyoming, the teller had hurried into a
room with ‘W.S.P. JEFFREYS. President’ inscribed on its door.
    Going through the gate in the
front office ’s dividing rail, Smith wondered what kind of reception he
would receive from the banker. If Brother Stanley had gone home
tale-telling and described Lily’s protector, Jeffreys would
probably identify Smith as that man. In view of the enmity between
the banker and Lily, he might even decide against hiring the Texan.
In which case, Smith decided, he would be justified in retaining
his advance payment.
    Entering the bank
president ’s
spacious, comfortably furnished office, Smith found another reason,
besides