The Strip Gun Hawk

The man shifted his glance to Barton for some sign, but Barton ignored him, watching Tex. He couldn't back down so he shoved his plate aside, spat on the floor, and said with a sneer: "You seem to be the big tough guy in town now. Why don't you make me move?" The words were hardly out of his mouth when the right hand gun of Tex came crashing down on the gunman's head. He slumped over and fell to the floor. Turning to face the room, Tex motioned to the men at the next table. "You men work for Barton?" There was a nod from the men at the table. "Then take this hunk of trash outside. Now, dang it!" The last words lashed out at the men and they jumped up to obey. Grabbing the unconscious man by the legs and arms, they carried him outside. Seating himself, Tex looked grimly at Barton, who had an odd smile on his face. "You always treat my men a little rough, don't you?" "You want a man that can handle them, right? You see now that I can. And next time we make a deal, don't send one of your amateurs to trail me." Seeing Cindy in the kitchen door, Tex removed his hat and said casually, "Mrs. Webster, I would like the biggest steak you have and plenty of potatoes to go with it." Then he smiled at her. She hurried into the kitchen, full of glee. Barton had been eyeing Tex warily, but now he relaxed. "So this means you're taking the job. I thought you'd skipped the country or joined the Hole-in-the-Rock gang. By the way, you really didn't have to use your gun on Mitch." "When I tell a man to do something I expect him to do it. What did you think, that I'd use my fists on him? That might slow my draw, then the next fellow would think he could beat me. Now your men know that fists won't work. If they challenge me in any way, they get the gun." There wasn't a person in the room at that time that didn't believe what Tex said. A chill went through most of the diners. Not one of Barton's men would meet his gaze as Tex glared around the room.