He looked dead. Sprawled out in the grass, unmoving, a neat crimson stain on his vest, I had to say he carried all the hallmarks of a man who'd cashed in. Yet I remained unconvinced. I shouldn't have a doubt, after all, I'd lined up the rifle, I pulled the trigger, and at less than eighty yards I don't miss. So why was I still here? Well now, I just couldn't make myself ride on. I simply had to be sure. After all, when you agree to kill a man like Emmett Rivers, you'd best be certain.

Chewing on my lip, I pondered the situation, liking none of it but the three hundred dollars in my saddlebag. It had all begun three days past, back in Globe during a poker game. I was sitting pat on a pair of sevens, and the hombre on my left had folded. That made the game betwixt a tall, quiet stranger, Gar Locke, and me. Now, unless I missed my guess that stranger was no tinhorn and Locke was cheating. Wanting no part of what was coming I'd folded, Locke raised and the man in the gray buckskin called.

"Three of a kind!" Gar had been triumphant. "Jacks! Let's see you beat that!"

"You asked." The stranger flipped his cards and the room went silent.

The man had turned over a royal flush, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was the jack in his flush twinned one of the jack's in Locke's hand. It was an offense men made a habit of dying over. Uneasy, I felt my stomach flop as the man in buckskin regarded the cards, his eyes flat and cold. His dark glance pinned Locke to the spot.

"Well, ain't that somethin'."

It seemed to me Gar Locke had lost a bit of color in the last minute, and he was sweating. Not wanting to get involved I slowly made to push back my chair, but that hard voice stopped me.

"I don't reckon it a healthy thing to be headin' out just yet." His eyes were still on Gar. "I think you'd best sit back down, mister."

I decided right then to play it smart and set back, only making sure to do it almighty careful. Last thing I wanted was gunplay, with me trying to go honest. Figures. I glanced at Gar and felt a sickening coldness clench over my belly. He wasn't gonna be smart, I could see it in his eyes. With an abrupt move Gar shoved the table away from him, starting to rise, going for his gun.

"Gar, don't!"

My shout came too late, drowned by the bellow and flame of gunfire. Just like that Gar Locke was dead and the stranger was loading his smoking pistol. For a long moment there was utter silence in the saloon, and not a body moved. The German who ran the saloon was the first to speak.

"You'd best be ridin' mister."

"He's a cheat, an' he got what was comin'." It was a stiff response, and a challenge.

"Can't argue his judgment, but Gar has family and you're a stranger here. Men have hung for less."

"I ain't a-huntin' for it, but if his kinfolk want words, you tell 'em Emmett Rivers says to come a-callin'. Anytime."

There was no sound at all as Rivers picked up most of the pot and straightened his hat. He glanced at me and the other man at the table.

"Split what's left fellas. We was playin' a cheat."

Not a half-hour later Gar's brothers showed up and had it explained to them, the unfortunate outcome of Gar's bad decision-making. It was a fair shooting, none argued that. Only thing, the Locke brothers reckoned themselves to be almighty important folk. No saddle tramp gunslinger was going to shoot one of them down and ride off scot-free! Talk of going after Rivers was being circulated, and I knew I should rattle my hocks out of there, but it was late and I was tired. Then Sev Locke spotted me.

"Tap!" he greeting was loud and the heavy hand he clapped over my shoulder hit a little hard. "I hadn't heard you was in town!"

"Only for the night Sev," I said quiet, nursing my drink. "Come daylight I'm a-driftin'."

"I got a job for you Tap-," but I was shaking my head.

"I outta that Sev. I wanna live out my life. I got a stake set by an' I aim to find a place to roost 'til old age catches up."

Sev Locke's eyes turned mean and cold, and the grip on my shoulder tightened.

"You go ahead an' drift, Tap," Sev's voice was in no way pleasant. "Only mind you take care of somethin' for me first. I reckon you owe me."

Well, there it was. Sev Locke had saved my bacon a while back, and he'd been waiting to collect. Now he'd put in his bid and it was solid. Whatever else I am or not, I kept my word and I paid my debts. I didn't want no part of it, but I was no fool. If I refused, I wasn't leavin' Globe on my horse, but in a fitted pine box. I finished my drink and looked over at Sev, unhappy and worried.

"He's a curly wolf Sev, and Gar was askin' for touble. Why not let it lie?"

"Let it lie? My brother murdered, and you want me to let him that done it off easy?" His voice was ugly and hard and he fixed me with stony eyes. "You losin' your nerve Tap?"

"You know better than that." My voice had gone very soft, and I felt quiet inside. It was the feeling that always came right before I killed someone, and Sev saw it. He suddenly smiled.

"All right Tap, you want out, I'll give you a chance." He reached for a stack of playing cards and held them out to me. "Cut the deck..."

"It's done." I murmured the words now, looking at the body of Emmett Rivers.

But it wasn't done. What I mean is, Rivers lay where he'd fallen and I could see he'd been surely hit, but dead? I had to make certain, yet no part of me wanted to walk over there and check. His horse had shied away and was standing some sixty feet off, cropping grass. I took off my hat and wiped the sweatband, swearing softly. Shaking my head I scowled and replaced my hat.

"All this 'cause Gar was a fool with big ideas 'bout himself. Ask me, Rivers did the world a favor."

Finally easing to my feet, I cat footed it down the slope toward the body in the grass. He surely did look dead, but doubt nagged me. Emmett Rivers was no pilgrim, and he'd been known to soak up lead and keep right on living. I hadn't wanted to kill him, but I'd made my bet and had to pay up or cache in, and Sev Locke was a merciless banker. Sweat trickled down my brow and I felt it running in rivulets down my back. I was free enough to admit it. I was plum scared.

The Rivers name was not an unknown thing, near legend in some parts, and not only this here Emmett. There was Virgil, a faster'n lightning gunslinger taking after his early kin, Red Rivers. There was Fennel, a mean old wolf from the high country, Malachi, a brawling, knuckle to skull devil with a short fuse. Those were only four, but word had it the Rivers clan had spread out and populated the Ozarks, and now and then they ventured out to see the country. No one right in the head hunted trouble with them, and here I had killed one.

I'd never heard of them taking up for kinfolk unless it was the mistreatment of one of their women, but a man never knew. It was rumored that near eighty odd men wore the name Rivers, and I was chilled with the thought that I'd just murdered one of their own. Suddenly I wanted to leave, and I didn't care if Emmett Rivers was dead, dying, or playing possum. I spun on my heel and taking one step, I froze. The loud metallic click of a hammer drawn back was clear in the still heat of the day.

"Last mistake, mister." His voice was thick with anger and pain. "Turn around, easy."

I carefully lifted my hands free of my guns as I started to turn, fear climbing up my back with icy claws. One thought was spinning through my mind. Get away! If Rivers didn't shoot me, I'd be turned over to the Marshal, then if I didn't hang, off to prison for fifteen years. The very notion made me frantic with the mad desire to escape. I'd almost made it free of this life! I had been so close, and still was, if only-!

My muscles jumped into action before I could think over what I was doing and a hoarse cry of protest burst from me as I slapped my palm to my pistol and pulled it free. "No!" I didn't recognize the ragged scream as mine. Thunder spoke loud as the pistols went off and I smelled the bitter burn of gunpowder. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, because I had to force my eyes open, not remembering having closed them. Foolish thing to do in a fight!

It wasn't right, something was very, very wrong, for I lay on the ground, breathing in dust and smelling blood. I jerked violently at the thought. My blood-! I was lying in the sun baked grass, bleeding! A shadow darkened the blue sky above me and I saw Emmett Rivers looking down at me.

"Foolish thing, mister," he commented quietly. I tried to smile but could not quite manage it.

"Nothin' personal Rivers-" I gasped, coughing, bubbles forming on my lips. "A man does what he has to do."

"Who hired you?"

"Locke-" the world was growing dark and I was afraid. "Owed him a favor, and you killed his brother."

"Ain't you Tap Hardy? I heard you was startin' fresh, why'd you throw it away? You never seen the day you could shadow me."

I managed a gagging chuckle this time, all light fading, leaving me in darkness.

"He said if...I cut the highest card, he'd forget the favor an' let me leave with my stake. I-I thought...I had a chance, and split the deck-"

The man waited but Tap Hardy was finished, dead. Going through his pockets Emmett found a wallet with a name card in the man's clothing, and a jack of spades in his vest.

"Poor devil." Emmett Rivers shook his head as he rose, favoring his side, panting a little. It was a hard thing to accept, he thought, that a man's life was worth so little.