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  Stone raised the glass in the air. “Here’s to you, Coyotero,” he said. “May you burn forever in hell.”

  He drank the contents of the glass and slammed it down on the counter. “Whiskey!”

  He became aware that the guitar player had stopped. Raising his head, he looked behind the bar and saw the bartender ducking behind the bottles. La Rosita became quiet as a tomb.

  Stone pushed his cavalry hat back on his head and turned around to see what was going on. Standing in the doorway, wearing a pistol in a holster, was Antonio Vargas.

  Drinkers and gamblers moved out of the way, hiding behind tables and chairs, pressing their backs against the walls. A few ran out the back door.

  Stone had drunk too much. He should’ve been more careful, because he thought Antonio might come looking for him. Riding back to Fort Kimball from the Apache encampment, Antonio had given him numerous dirty looks. But Stone had been tense and needed a drink. One led to another, and now he had to sober up quickly.

  Antonio wore new clothes and a big Mexican sombrero. He’d shaved and trimmed his mustache. He took a step toward Stone. “Hello, gringo,” he said, holding his hand above his pistol, wiggling his fingers.

  Stone stepped away from the bar and faced him. “I had a disagreement with your brother, but I’ve got no quarrel with you. I think you should let it go.”

  Antonio shook his head. “There are some things you cannot let go, gringo.”

  There were some things Stone couldn’t let go either. It was going to be gunplay.

  Stone’s mind became clear. Death was in front of him. He spread his feet apart and planted himself solidly on the floorboards. Slowly, carefully, he raised his hands until they were just above his Colts.

  The two men stared at each other. Antonio saw the man who’d killed his brother. Stone saw a young Mexican with a mean look in his eyes. One of them would walk out of La Rosita, and one would be carried out.

  “Make your move, if that’s what you’ve got to do,” Stone said.

  Stone was keyed up, ready to go into action at the slightest movement from Antonio, and Antonio slapped his hand to his pistol, yanking it out of its holster, raising the barrel, and pulling the trigger.

  Stone dodged to the side, drawing both his Colts at the same time, taking quick but careful aim, triggering twice.

  The silence of the cantina was rent by the explosions of pistols. Stone stood in his crouch and watched Antonio stagger in front of him. Antonio became unstrung, the strength left his body. Dots of blood showed on his new white shirt as he aimed his trembling pistol at Stone for another shot.

  Stone fired both his pistols again, and the impact of the bullets rocked Antonio, who took two steps backward, dropped his pistol, and collapsed onto the floor.

  Stone holstered his pistols and turned toward the bar, pushing his empty glass forward.

  “Whiskey,” he said.

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  If you’ve enjoyed this book , read the rest of the series:

  THE SEARCHER

  Searcher

  Lynch Law

  Tin Badge