JUST ASKING FOR TROUBLE

“There's nothin’ to fight over,” Duane replied. “What's wrong with you?”

It sounded like a new insult. Jones stiffened, and poised his hand above his Remington. “I'm ready when you are.”

Somebody laughed, and Jones thought a joke had been made at his expense. Warped anger billowed through his brain as he reached for his Remington. His finger touched the ivory grip at the same instant that Duane's Colt fired. A bullet pierced Jones's heart, and his lights went out instantly, but he was still on his feet, gun in hand, ready to fire. Everybody stared in morbid fascination as he collapsed onto the floor.

It was silent in the saloon, acrid gunsmoke filled the air, and everyone's ears rang with the shot. Duane aimed his gun at Mundy, then at Cassidy, and finally at McPeak.

“Any of you boys want a piece of me?” he asked.