He walked through the planked doors. The interior was spacious, sporting a long paneled mahogany bar, scuffed hardwood flooring, poker tables, a pool table, a massive wrought-iron chandelier, and a polished self-playing piano in the corner playing a jaunty tune.
Heads turned as they entered, weighing, accessing. He ignored the distrustful looks, walking over to the bar and nodding to the slender barkeep. Like most bartenders, it was an android, rolling on wheels behind the bar. It looked over, expressionless behind its iron mustache and monocle over one eye.
"Red Eye," Gunner said.
The whiskey slid his way. The Baron leaned beside him against the polished bar, propping her elbows on the countertop. "Looked like you and Janey have a history."
"A brief one. It might hit her later. I got a wash and a shave since she last saw me."
"When was that?"
"When she and her gang robbed me yesterday."
The Baron whistled. "You sure you're the Gunner I heard about? Don't seem like he'd let a two-bit bunch like Waingrow and his bunch get the jump on him."
He downed the whiskey. "Maybe I'm not that guy. But I'm here to get my Steed back. Figure I can do it the easy way or the hard way."
"What's the easy way?"
"You're a person of authority, it appears. Maybe you inquire into the matter."
"Maybe I do. But you should know that nothing comes for free in this Town. What's the hard way?"
"I look into the matter myself. Tracking down each member of the gang until I get what I want. And I'll start with Janey."
"That's gonna bring a heap of trouble on your head. Janey is one of the Judge's granddaughters. Mess with her, and you mess with the Judge."
"Everyone around here related to the Judge?"
"Not everyone, but a lot of his people are. He doesn't trust anyone but family. And he brought in a lot of blood into this place."
"Is that so? Well, maybe I'll just skip the little fish and go straight to the Judge myself."
A smile slid across the Baron's face. "Just walk on in and have a face-to-face? I'd like to see that. But tell you what — before you do something stupid and get yourself shot, let me look into the matter. I'll see what I can do."
"Hey, Gunner!"
They turned around as a clean-cut man in a suit and bowler hat lurched up from his seat at a nearby table. He had his holoband open to a Wanted poster, stalking over with his other hand hovering over one of his pistols.
"Yeah, I recognize you. Scanned your face when you came in. You're worth a lot of bulls, you know that? One mil alive, three hundred thousand dead. Which means someone has something personal against you, my friend. Now, I'd rather take you alive, but either way you're coming with me."
All eyes had turned in their direction. The poker games paused; the conversations stopped. The Baron didn't say a word, observing with a small smile on her lips.
Gunner gave the Nimrod a cool glance. "Looks like you got me at a disadvantage. You know who I am. But I don't know you from a stick in the mud."
The man stuck out his chest. "The name's Arthur Bright. I know you heard of me."
Gunner's eyes narrowed. "The Texas Terror. Every man with a bounty on his head has heard of you."
"That's right. Because I'm the best Nimrod in the business. I've had an eye out for you for a long time. Guess this is my lucky day."
"Maybe it is, maybe it ain't. Because there's something that Wanted poster ain't telling you, Texas Terror."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"The number of other folks that tried to collect that bounty. A lot of Nimrods better than you have tried. Now, are you gonna let me finish drinking in peace and go about your business, or do you wanna get your name added to the list?"
Arthur hesitated, taking a quick look around before zeroing in on Gunner's empty holsters. "Hell, you ain't even heeled. You can't intimidate me by tough talk. Now gimme your wrists. I'm taking you in."
"Gotta kill me first," Gunner said, "and I don't think you got the stones."
Arthur licked his lips, eyes shifting. "I'll do it."
Gunner sneered. "Seems like all you'll do is talk. Go ahead and pull. Or is flapping your gums the only thing you're good at?"
"Don't insult me. I'll put you down. I got the right." He cut a quick look at the Baron. "I got the right, don't I?"
She spread out her arms. "No law against taking a bounty out."
He focused on Gunner again. "You hear that? Give yourself up, or I cut you down."
Gunner stifled a yawn behind his hand. "You gonna kill me with a bullet or with boredom? If you were the real Texas Terror, you'd have already shot by now."
A bead of sweat trickled down Arthur's face. "What do you mean, the real one?"
"I'm saying you're not Arthur Bright. Because I rode with Arthur. I robbed with him, and I ran down bounties with him. I was there when he died. We were ambushed by Slasher Bob and his gang of no-good cutthroats. Both me and Arthur took more shots than a professional drunkard, but we managed to put Slasher Bob down like the mangy beast he was. Arthur died two days later, cursing the doctors to hell. So like I said — you ain't Arthur Bright. You're just a two-bit charlatan posing as a man whose air you wouldn't be fit to breathe."
"Damn you." The conman reached for his revolver.
Gunner threw the whiskey glass with a flick of his wrist. It smashed into the imposter's forehead with a loud crack, stunning him. Leaping from his barstool, Gunner snatched the conman's revolver from the holster and clubbed him behind the ear with it. The pretender crumpled to the floor as if his knees shattered.
Gunner slid the gun into one of his holsters. "You still got one gun left. You wanna keep disgracing Arthur's name, you meet me outside and we'll settle up right now." He glanced at the Baron. "Hope this ain't gonna get me in trouble with the law."
The Baron raised an eyebrow. "No trouble at all. We play it pretty loose around here, so long as the fight is fair and square."
"Much obliged."
He turned and strode out the saloon, walking ten paces into the street before turning around with a hand hovering over the revolver. Passersby stopped to stare, anticipating a showdown. The Baron stepped out of the saloon, followed by the majority of the patrons, most excitedly taking bets on the outcome.
The conman burst out the doors a few seconds later, rubbing the back of his head with a murderous frown. "It doesn't matter whether I'm Arthur Bright or not. In a few seconds, I'm gonna be the man that killed the notorious Gunner."
Gunner gave his beard stubble a lazy scratch. "In a few seconds, you're gonna be dead."
The imposter took a few steps forward, fingers dancing over the grip of his revolver. "That so? Well, just say the word."
"Waiting on you."
The conman hand darted for his gun. It hadn't even cleared leather before Gunner's shot rang out. The imposter's eyes widened, staring at Gunner in shock. Blood bubbled on his lips. He tottered a few steps before falling face-first into the street. Cheers rang out in the street, people laughed or moaned depending on what bets they made.
Gunner holstered the gun and stuck a cheroot in his mouth, striking a match off his palm to light it. The Baron strolled over, an impressed look on her face.
"Not too shabby."
He grunted. "Taking the wind out of a bag of hot air? Nothing to brag about."
"Well, as I said — I'll look into things for you. I guess you'll be staying in Town for a while."
"Just long enough to recover my Steed, then I'm gone."
"Might take a day or two. I think I have a room available upstairs. I'll give you an advance on it if you're interested."