“Where is she?” Jacob looked around “Where’s the girl?” “Gone along to the cantina,” I said, and for the first time I looked down at the bodies.
There were but three: Rad Huber, Fletcher, and the don.
Chato? Chato was gone!
“Meghan!” I shouted, and I slapped spurs to that black stallion and took off with a lunge.
That cantina was only a little way ahead, and Chato … ! The others were behind me, running their horses. The dump of trees, the hitching rail, the patio with its tables …
I hit the ground running.
Chato was standing in the shade of a big oak on the edge of the patio. His gun was in his hand. “Meghan?” I shouted.
“I do not fight women,” he said. “I fight only men.” “I am a man,” I said. I was fairly certain now that he had not harmed Meghan, so I could concentrate fully on the job I had to do. Shadows fell on the cruel face, the flat nose, the old scars. “I should have killed you then, in spite of the old man. You were trouble. I could see it in your eyes, and you were but a baby.”
“I am a man now,” I said, and I shot above the stabbing flame from his gun. He took a slow step back, and I shot again. The gun fell from his hand, and he grabbed for it, falling to his knees. He tried to get up then, and fell headlong, his hat rolling free.
“You should have died in the desert,” he said.
“I am Johannes Verne,” I said, “and I was not afraid.”