#201   Salmon River Rage

#205   Mountain Mankillers

  In a flurry of dust they rode off.  Fargo had to go only another twenty yards to reach Doc Cullen's.  No windows were lit, so apparently the sawbones was gone.  the dog Meriam had warned him about was nowhere around.  He gained a side window without mishap.  It opened easily.  Pleased his luck had finally changed, he forked a leg over and slipped into a pitch-dark room.
  The click of a gun hammer being cocked proved him wrong.
  "Well, well, well.  What have we here?  Just the coyote I've been hankering to kill."  Out of the gloom stepped Cletis--the man Fargo had shot on the talus slope.  hatred contorted his face as he extended a Smith & Wesson.  "Any last prayers, you son of a bitch?"

  The next moment a husky shadow separated from a tent on the left and strode into the middle of the street.  Smirking, Rowdy Joe Guthrie adopted a wide stance.   His pistol was in its scabbard, his arms loose at his sides.  He did not say anything until Fargo reined up.  "This is as far as you go, mister.  Climb down."
  Fargo had his revolver out.  He could have shot Guthrie before the killer touched his six-shooter, but he slid off and twirled his own into its holster.
  "Who is he?"  Fargo asked.  "Who's the hombre who set this whole thing up?"
  "Find out for yourself,"  Rowdy Joe said, his hand dropping to his pistol even as he spoke.
  Only a greenhorn would fall for the ruse.  And Fargo was no greenhorn.   their shots were a split second apart, but his blasted first....