“So you’re out here trying to avoid the tax,” the rider stated.
“Yes,” Doc admitted. “Being a free man, I have no love for most barons. They are generally only tyrants with self-aggrandized titles.”
The coldhearts broke into sudden laughter, the noise startling their horses. The sounds of leather creaking and the stamping of restless hooves filled the small area under the canopy of branches.
Ryan knew he was drawing more stares than Doc. The gang had already written off the old man as harmless. Him, they recognized as danger. But Ryan had counted on that. The riders didn’t know about the big Le Mat blaster Doc had hidden behind a nearby tree.
“If you’re gonna do business in these parts,” the rider said, “you’re gonna pay a tax.”
“I thought the wares I am exhibiting might preclude any such taxation without representation,” Doc replied.
The rider looked uncertain, obviously not following all of the words the old man used. He peered over his shoulder, back at the Hazard ville sec chief. “What he’s saying, Philox,” Liberty said in a quiet baritone voice, “is that he thinks the stuff he’s got is worth so much that he ain’t gonna have to pay a tax ’cause we’re gonna like it so much.”
Philox swiveled his head back to Doc. “Mister, I ain’t seen nothing we couldn’t live without. And if I did, I’d take it anyway.”
“Always happy to see a confirmed consumer.” Doc nodded happily. He looked beyond Philox. “Mayhap I could have your name, sir, since it appears I am going to be conducting my business with you instead of your associate.”
Anger deepened Philox’s coarse features. He put spurs to the mare and started forward.
Doc stood his ground, both hands resting lightly on the lion’s-head sword stick. “I warrant, young man, that you should remember what was said about respecting one’s elders.” The good-natured grin never left the old man’s face.
Philox grinned, and the expression was one of the purest expressions of evil Ryan had ever seen. “If I get a hankering, I’ll beat you to death, gray hair.” He urged his horse forward, straight into Doc.
Instead of stepping aside, Doc reached out and seized the horse’s reins. He yanked them roughly, twisting the bit in the animal’s mouth and causing the horse to rear in pain and surprise.
Philox bellowed and grabbed for his saddle pommel, but missed. He landed hard on the ground and came up roaring, pushing away from the rearing horse. The sec man pulled his pistol, fisting it in one beefy hand while he tried to hold on to the horse’s reins with the other.
For a moment Ryan thought he was going to have to chill the coldheart right then and there, and open the ball on the rest of it. Then Liberty’s voice roared.
“Philox, you pull up right now or I’ll chill you myself!”
The big man froze into place, shooting the sec chief a glare that told Ryan he was contemplating disobeying the order. Ryan closed his hand around the SIG-Sauer’s butt.
Liberty pulled up the Winchester and levered a round into the breech with a metallic ratchet. “I said pull up, you stupe bastard!” The rifle barrel pointed straight at Philox.
“This what it’s gonna come to, Liberty?” Philox demanded. “We start protecting some bastard ville, tying ourselves down like nurse-mommas, then we’re gonna start taking guff from a near-deader?”
Liberty kept the rifle pointed. “We’re gonna do what I say we’re gonna do. That ain’t gonna change. Ever. You don’t like how I call the shots, you’re free to pull up stakes and ride on.”
Ryan’s respect for Liberty rose. The one-eyed man had ridden as lieutenant for the Trader in years gone by. Keeping the crew of War Wag One in line had been demanding, and a weak man or one hesitant to chill someone who spoke out against him wouldn’t have lasted a tick of a chron.
Philox’s displeasure with the harsh words from his commander showed in the dark blood that filled his face. He shoved his pistol back into his holster and gathered his horse’s reins. He mounted and rode to the back of the band. They parted and let him through. As he passed, another man pulled out of the crowd and rode with Philox.