The Avenger

Cecile and me had rescued Houston, but Robert had gotten away. Though I went after him, I didn’t get far.

After a night under the stars I got up at daybreak to resume my ride to Prado, the likeliest destination for any fugitive east of Blogsville.

 

It was mid-morning when I came to a one-horse town in the middle of nowhere. My luck was in; whilst getting my horse fed and watered, I was told a man of Robert’s description had done the very same just an hour before.

Around two o’clock that afternoon I rode into Prado, a bustling town with a population of 1,573. So the sign said, anyhow. They've got stage lines in all directions too, I learned, when I called at stage office. Since the next stage wasn’t due till four, I thought I’d take a look around, starting with the hotel on the main street. When that came to nothing I tried the saloons; yet there was no sign of the man I was looking for. Course I could have been too late; on a fresh horse he could have been over the hill and halfway to anywhere by then, but I just couldn’t see it. Robert didn’t strike me as a man for hard riding and a hunch paid off when I decided to keep an eye on the stage office.

I ducked out of sight when I saw him stroll along the boardwalk and open the stage office door. If he was fixing to catch the four o’clock stage then I figured this had to be the moment, only there were a lot of people around and that complicated things. 

The slippery varmint got quite a shock when he came out and saw me waiting for him, but he soon recovered.

‘Ah, Mister Valance, what brings you here?’ he said, good and loud for everyone to hear. Then he opened his coat for all to see. ‘You’re wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man, surely?’

I was sorely tempted but in a strange place, with plenty of bystanders taking a sudden interest, I thought better of it. While I thought about the next move, Robert carried on talking. I didn’t care for the smart mouthing he gave me, or the things he said about Miss Houston, but I bit my lip and let him talk till he overplayed his hand. Once I was sure he’d lost any backing from the locals, I unbuckled my gun.

Robert was tougher than I thought. He hurt me bad, but I hurt him better. Reckon I’d have hurt him better still if the law hadn’t come along when they did; I’d just struck a match and was about to set light to his mustache when they hauled me off to the calaboose.
 

Things didn’t work out too bad. Robert got hustled out of town on the four o’clock stage and right after he left, the sheriff gave me the choice of a ten dollar fine or a night behind bars; I paid the money. I got no complaints about that, but I sure wish I’d singed that varmint’s mustache.