Shotgun Charlie by Ralph Compton Page A

I’m partial to hot coffee when I wake up, and Charlie seemed to be the only one who knew a thing about it.” He looked at Dutchy, then at the others in turn, but ignored Haskell.
    But Grady spoke, cutting in with a grin and that early-morning croaking voice of his, something that barely evened out after that man had hammered back a couple of quirleys, one after the next. Dutchy noticed the man had a swelled-up jaw that sported shades of purple.
    â€œNow, there, Pap. I’d say your fair-haired boy done run out on you.” Haskell grinned and set fire to his first cigarette of the day, pulling in a deep draft of smoke, holding it there a second or two before expelling it in a long blue plume, like smoke from a steam train’s stack as it labored up a long push.
    â€œNaw,” said Pap. “Nothing of the sort.” He was smiling. “I’d say he let you down, Haskell. From the looks of things he also give you a wallopin’ on that homely mug of yours. That boy has more sense than I give him credit for. In fact, he has more sense than the rest of us all together.”
    â€œHow you figure that, boss?” said Simp, stretching his suspenders up over his shoulders and yawning.
    But it was Haskell who answered, cutting off the old man before he had a chance to give a worked-up answer.
    â€œWhat he means, Simp, is that him and Charlie boy sat up long into the night chattering away like camp jays, figuring on ways to beat me at my own game. Ain’t that right, Pap? You’re all set to deal with that bank your own self, ain’t you? And for your information, I walked into a tree last night while watering a bush. Walked into a big ol’ dumb tree.”
    Dutchy, Simp, Ace, and Mex all stared between Haskell and Pap. This was more amusement than they’d had in a long time.
    Pap broke the spell with a smirk. “You know so all-fired much about what me and the boy was up to, you’d do best not to lie to us all.” He leaned forward, pinned Haskell with a steely gaze. “But then again I expect lying is something that you can’t help, being the lowlife you are.”
    â€œOut with it, old man. What’s your angle?” Haskell strutted toward Pap, who set his feet and held his ground. Though he did look to Dutchy as if he had suddenly grown very old and very small.
    He was at least a head shorter than Haskell and his chest, without all the layers of shirt and vest and coat he wore all day, looked sunken beneath his pink, timeworn long-handles.
    â€œYou want to test me, Haskell, you come right ahead. I know what I know. And I know you’re a bad seed. Anyone with enough sense God give a goose can see that. But that don’t mean I won’t go along with you fools tomorrow. It’s obvious I can’t save you all from yourselves, so I’ll do what I can to save innocent folks from you. That’s about what I’ve been up to for years now.”
    â€œBut what about Charlie, boss?”
    â€œI expect he saw the truth in all this, that you all were about to get yourselves killed, and maybe kill a few good and innocent folks at the same time, so I figure he lit on out to save his own hide.”

Chapter 16
    By the time the six men were saddled and picking their way down into town from the campsite twelve miles northwest to the bustling burg of Bakersfield, their spirits had buoyed. All except for the old man’s. Pap Morton sat his mount straight, as if he were once again riding into battle—like the war, he thought. No, not quite that bad. At least not yet anyway. Maybe the day would get worse and worse. Maybe, maybe, maybe . . .
    And before he knew it, Dutchy was nudging him. “We made it to town, Pap.” The man’s voice was low, but excited. “And man, Grady was right. You looky there, Pap. Now, that’s a town like I ain’t seen in a long time. If I was rich I’d consider locking up all my