Sudden--Troubleshooter (A Sudden Western) #5 by Frederick H. Christian

worried look on her pretty face asked him
where Philadelphia was.
    ‘He’s over at Taylor’s,’
her father told her. ‘I sent him to borrow an ax from Alex. Don’t
fret yoreself, girl!’
    Susan nodded and moved back into the shadow
of the house as her father, the rifle cradled across his arm,
turned to face the oncoming rider, who could now be seen loping up
the trail towards the ranch.
    Harris descried a man of
medium height riding a very fine bay stallion. The man’s saddle was
lavishly ornamented with silver conchos and buckles. The man
himself was a complete stranger, but Harris did not miss the
peculiarly cut gun holster; this was no passer-by, he told himself.
The shotgun remained at port across his arm.
    The stranger reined in his
horse and sat in the saddle in the center of the yard, surveying
the house and the smaller outbuildings with a sneer.
    ‘What’s yore business,
mister?’ called Harris. The newcomer completely ignored his
challenge and continued with his disdainful survey of the place. He
spat, then kneed his horse forward as Harris repeated his
question.
    ‘Yo’re Harris?’
    ‘I am. What do yu want? Who
are yu?’
    ‘Just wanted to see yu,
Harris,’ the man said. ‘Heard a lot about yu. Yu ast my name: it’s
Cameron. Wes Cameron. I expect yu’ve heard about me,
too.’
    ‘That I have,’ snapped
Harris, ‘an’ none of it good.’
    ‘Watch yore tongue, yu ol’
goat!’ snapped Cameron. ‘I’m just admirin’ yore place, but yu push
me hard an’ I might alter the look of it some.’
    Harris hitched the shotgun significantly
forward, but the cold-eyed Cameron feigned not to notice.
    ‘I’d guess yu was thinkin’
o’ leavin’ these parts,’ he said, as if to no one in particular.
‘Wise decision. This high country looks plumb unhealthy to me for a
man yore age.’
    ‘Damn’ yore eyes!’ rumbled
Harris. ‘Yu got-yore gall, mister! I’m guessin’ yo’re about to roll
yore tail afore I perforate it.’
    Cameron smiled. It was a cold, mirthless
smile, and it did not touch the eyes. He dismounted and started to
walk towards Jake Harris, who covered the menacing figure with the
shotgun.
    ‘Hold it right there!’ he
told Cameron. The gunman took no notice of the words.
    In a voice that could
almost have been described as teasing he said, ‘Yu aim to blow me
apart with that scattergun in front o’ yore daughter, Harris? Yu
know what a man looks like that’s been shot close-to with one o’
those things? Yu want yore daughter to see that?’
    Jake Harris hesitated for a
fateful moment, and in that moment the gunman’s hand moved like a
striking snake, knocking the barrel of the shotgun aside. His right
hand swept to the cut-away holster and came up holding the
pearl-handled six-shooter. It rose and fell, and Jake Harris
dropped senseless to his knees, blood pouring from the cut behind
his ear made by the viciously wielded gun-barrel. Susan Harris,
seeing the murderous expression on Cameron’s face as the gun-barrel
was raised to strike yet again, swept back the door and threw
herself at the man, her hands outstretched, fingernails reaching
for the twisted face.
    Cameron caught her hands easily, his grip
like steel, and twisted them backwards until he held her, panting,
her face only inches from his own.
    ‘Well, now,’ he leered. ‘If
yu ain’t the wildcat! Purty, too! How about a li’l kiss,
honey? ’
    He bent his head towards
her, and the girl, struggling helplessly, tried desperately to
prevent his beastly caress; half fainting, powerless in his clasp,
she closed her eyes as his snarling face came nearer – Suddenly his
grip was loosed, and she collapsed, falling alongside her father.
Looking up, she saw Cameron stumbling backwards as Philadelphia,
who had ridden into the yard unseen and come up behind the man,
yanked at Cameron’s shirt collar, pulling the man backwards off
balance, his arms flailing – Philadelphia turned the man half
around, still off