The Stranger (2 page)

Sheriff Trenton put a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from Luke Clayton? I have a mind to throw you in the pokey for disturbin’ the peace.” He looked at Frank’s hand. “You’d better git down to Doc Parker and have that looked at. Go on, now. Git!”

Frank glared at Luke, then at Trenton. He picked up his hat and reached for the gun. Trenton put his foot on it. “Leave it, Frankie.”

Frank started to say something, but the look in Trenton’s eyes stopped him. With a final glare at Clayton, he walked slowly through the swinging doors, cursing under his breath.

Trenton turned to Clayton. “Sorry about the ruckus,” he said. “Like I told you, it don’t do no good to talk to these kids. They’re itchin’ for a fight. Makes them feel important, I guess.”

Luke nodded agreement. “Not your fault, Sheriff. It’s mine. Wish there was somethin’ I could do about it, but it’s too late for that. I brought this on myself the day I shot Jack Hooker. And it’ll be that way ’til the day I die.” He picked up the glass from the table. “I figure it’s OK to take that drink now.” He drained the glass in one swallow, rolled the empty glass in his hand and set it on the table.

“That kid ain’t the best or the worst that I ever saw,” Luke said. “Pretty soon it gets so you can’t tell ’em apart.” He pushed the glass across the table and turned to the bartender. “What do I owe you?”

Jake waved his hands. “On the house, Mr. Clayton.”

Luke fished a coin from his pocket and dropped it on the table. “Luke Clayton pays his way.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Sheriff,” he said. With a nod to Jake, he walked to the swinging doors.

“Clayton,” Trenton called after him.

Luke paused but didn’t turn around.

“Why?” Trenton asked. “You ain’t like Frankie, and I don’t guess you ever was. Why did you do it?”

Slowly Luke turned, looked down at the floor and shook his head. “Had to,” he said. “It wasn’t like most people think. I wasn’t aimin’ to be the man who killed Jack Hooker.” He lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Not that I’m sorry for it. The son of a buck deserved what he got.”

“So?” Trenton asked.

Luke lifted his head and looked Trenton in the eye. “He killed my brother.”

Trenton raised his eyebrows. “I’m real sorry, Clayton. I didn’t know that.”

“Not many people do, and it don’t matter to them who know.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I wished he woulda killed me instead.” He turned on his heels, pushed through the doors and mounted his horse. Trenton and Jake watched as the gunslinger rode slowly down the street and out of sight.

“There goes a man who is the envy of just about every kid with a gun,” Trenton said. “The Great Luke Clayton.” He picked up Frank’s gun and tucked it in his belt. “I wouldn’t be in his place for all the gold in California.”

Jake wiped the table where Luke had been sitting, picked up the bottle and set it on the bar. “You think Frank learned his lesson, Sheriff? You shoulda seen his face when Clayton shot the gun outta his hand.” He laughed shrilly. “White as a bedsheet it was. He was plumb scared out of his spurs.”

Trenton looked from Jake to the gun on his hip. “Frankie don’t have the sense of a horsefly,” he said. “Seems the only way to learn him is to kill him, Jake. And it’s my job to see that don’t happen.”

Jake scratched his head and spat. “Come to think of it, Sheriff, I wouldn’t trade places with
you
for all the gold in California either. No sir. I’ll stick to bartendin’, thank you very much.”

“I’ll drink to that, Jake,” Sheriff Trenton said. “Set ’em up.”

Smiling, Jake went behind the bar, took a glass and splashed whiskey into it. “On the house, Sheriff,” he said.

END