No priest ever
handled a Colt .45 like he does!
THE BRAVE ONES
“You have somethin’ I want. Give it to me and you’ll get no trouble from me. Refuse and . . .”
“What have I got that you want — apart from five thousand head of cattle?”
“A man. I’m huntin’ a man who killed my compañero. He joined your crew last night. You need not deny it, we are excellent trackers.”
Macallister looked at Rebo, then back at the outlaw.
“He might be wearin’ the robes of a priest, but he is not a man of God. He’s a gunfighter from Colorado, Kid Latigo. In Bernadino I fought with him and Myer Saul. Saul escaped, but Latigo slew my compañero, Boyd Ekron. Latigo will die for that.”
“You’re crazy. That man is a priest, Father Latigo.”
“He is the killer.” Kellick turned to his companions. “Is this not so?”
When six rough heads nodded in unison, he said, “Well, Macallister?”
“Look, I wouldn’t take your word if you had five hundred head-waggers to back you. For my money, that feller is a priest and because he’s a priest, he’s goin’ to stay with us and have safe passage to the Cimarron and Fiftyfour.”
Kellick’s right eyebrow lifted significantly.
“Safe passage? Cowman, it will be anythin’ but a safe passage for you if you harbor that killer.”