For a one-horser, it
sure could get mighty lively!
ALL’S HELL ON PEACH STREET
Shooting a quick look through a window as he shrugged out of his slicker, he glimpsed a dozen familiar faces dotted around the barroom. They looked strangely glum, he thought as he stepped toward the batwing doors. He was framing a quip in his mind — something about how they shouldn’t take on so about a little bit of late spring rain — when he palmed the doors inward.
It was only then that he saw the stranger, a tall, reckless-faced man near the bar. There was a dangerous look about the stranger who twisted toward the doors at the sound of his entrance.
For a long moment Radigan stood framed in the doorway, staring questioningly into those menacing eyes. Then finally he dropped his gaze to the big blue Colt Peacemaker that was trained squarely on his belt buckle.