The Gunsmith 385 by J. R. Roberts Page B

picking up the pot. “More for me.”
    â€œHow the hell have your insides not just rotted away?” Travis asked.
    â€œThey probably have,” Clint said. “They probably already have.”

TWENTY-SEVEN
    The poker player took the break Barry was waiting for. As he got up from the table and walked to the bar, so did Tom Barry.
    As the man ordered a drink, Barry sidled up alongside him and said, “I’ll have one, too, on my friend here.”
    The man looked at him and asked, “Why would I buy you a drink? I don’t know you.”
    â€œYou’re gonna buy me a drink because I’ve got somethin’ to tell you. Somethin’ you’re gonna find real interestin’.”
    â€œIs that a fact?”
    â€œIt is.”
    The man studied him for a moment, then looked at the bartender. “Steve, get the man a drink.”
    â€œMy name’s Tom Barry,” Barry said.
    â€œDrew Stubbs,” the gambler said. “What’s on your mind?”
    Barry took the whiskey from the bartender.
    â€œSeems your luck has changed, all of a sudden.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œEver wonder how that happens?”
    â€œNo,” Stubbs said. “I play enough to know that it does, though.”
    â€œWell,” Barry said, “today I can tell you why.”
    â€œIs that a fact?”
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œOkay, then . . . why?”
    Barry drained his glass and held it up.
    â€œGive him another, Steve,” Stubbs said. “This better be good.”
    â€œOh,” Barry said, “it will be.”
    Stubbs listened to what Barry had to say, then looked at the bartender.
    â€œWhat about it, Steve?”
    â€œWell, he’s right about one thing,” the bartender said. “There was two fellas standing right here.”
    Stubbs turned and looked at the card table. He saw that someone could easily see his cards from here.
    â€œDid they signal anybody?” he asked.
    â€œI wouldn’t know,” the barman said, “but then if they was sendin’ signals, they wouldn’t do it so anybody could see, would they?”
    â€œNo,” Stubbs said, “they wouldn’t.”
    Stubbs looked at Barry, but spoke to the bartender.
    â€œAnd did my luck change as soon as they left?”
    â€œSeemed to,” the bartender said.
    â€œShit,” Stubbs said.
    â€œI told you it’d be interestin’,” Barry said.
    Stubbs looked at Steve and asked, “Where are the boys?”
    â€œWhorehouse.”
    â€œAnd what were these two fellas talkin’ about before they left?”
    â€œGoing to the whorehouse,” Steve said. “In fact, they asked me where it was.”
    Stubbs drank his whiskey down and said, “Perfect.”
    Â * * * 
    Kane was in a room at the whorehouse with a little blonde, while O’Brien had picked out an Irish-looking girl who said he could call her Sinead. She had long brown hair, long legs, and pert little tits.
    Kane had the blonde on her belly, was rubbing his long, skinny dick on her ass cheeks, when the door slammed open.
    â€œWhat the—” he said, looking over his shoulder. Three men entered the room, guns drawn.
    â€œThis is what we do to cheaters in Waco,” one of them said.
    He grabbed Kane by his long hair and pulled him off the bed, dragging him to the floor.
    â€œWhat the hell—” he started, but that’s as far as he got before they cut his throat.
    Â * * * 
    In a room down the hall, O’Brien didn’t hear the ruckus. He was too busy watching the Irish-looking girl. She was undressing in slow motion, first uncovering her hard, brown nipples, and then the big bush between her legs. That done, she ran her hands over her own body, sliding one hand down between her legs.
    O’Brien had a raging erection when the door to the room slammed open.
    â€œHey, what do you think—”
    Three men