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The Hair-trigger Kid (World Cultural Heritage Library)
The Hairtrigger Kid - World Cultural Heritage Library Author:Max Brand a selection from: Chapter 1 - Plain Poison Two Things waited for John Milman when he got West. One was his family, and the other was the spring. When he got to the end of the railroad, he could see spring eating its way up the mountains, taking the white from their shoulders and streaking the desert itself with green. B... more »ut his family was not on hand with means to take him out to the ranch, and therefore he had to wait restlessly in the hotel, pacing up and down his room, and damning all delays. Sheriff Lew Walters was in that room, trying to help his friend kill time and uselessly pointing out that in an hour or two, at the most, the wife and daughter of Milman were sure to arrive. He might as well have read a chapter out of the Bible. Or better, perhaps. "I haven't seen them for six months!" said Milman. This was a proof that he was still, to a degree, an outlander. Real Westerners will not give way to their emotions so readily. They have picked up some of the manners of the wild Indians. But the sheriff, who knew the worth of this man, merely smiled and nodded. "A lot of things can happen in an hour," said Milman. "I wonder what's kept them hack? Elinore's as punctual as a chronometer, always. And Georgia would never be late for me! A lot of things can happen in an hour around this part of the world. How is Mr. Law, and old lady Order, his wife, Lew? They're still in your charge, I suppose?" "They're recuperatin'," said the sheriff gravely. "They got a sort of shock and a setback a while ago, but they're recuperatin'." "What gave them the shock?" "Well, typhoid fever, smallpox, diphtheria, delirium tremens and muscular rheumatism all hit this town together, one day, when Billy Shay turned up and opened his gambling house. I had old Law and Order out, taking the sun and the air every day, but now they don't dare to leave their beds till the sun's at nine o'clock, and they creep back in around about sundown." "Who is Billy Shay?" asked Milman, willing to forget his trouble for a moment. "Shay is poison," said the sheriff. "What kind?" "Skunk poison," said the sheriff inelegantly. "He's just one of those mean, low-down, sneakin' curs that has teeth and knows how to use 'em." "Then why don't you run 'im out?" "I can't hang anything on him. I know that everything crooked in the town depends on Shay, but still I can't get any information against him. He's slick as a snake, and he could hide in a snake's hole, if he wanted to." "How does the town take to him?" "How does any town this far West take to a chance to spoil its health, throw away its bank account, wreck its eyes, and quit work? Why, this town of Dry Creek is crazy about Billy Shay." "Does everyone know that he's a crook? "Of course, everybody does. That won't hold your real hundred-per-cent Westerner from going to that gaming house and tossing his money away. Shay has such a good thing that he only has to use the brakes now and then to stop somebody on a big run. As long as a fool wins once in three times, he's sure to come back for more. And one player out of ten always makes something worth while. They do the advertising for Billy Shay." He extended his hand, pointing across the street. "There's Billy's house. He's gone and got himself the finest place in town."« less