“Half the town misses all of them, especially Jake’s wife and that beautiful daughter,” Fenton mused.
Red grasped Dixie’s wrist and signaled for her to lean closer. “Hey, Dixie, go ahead and bring me and Fenton a beer,” he said, lowering his voice. “And I want you to go up to the bar and cozy up to that stranger that just walked in. See if you can get him to tell you his name. And tell him to come over here.”
Dixie glanced the stranger’s way. He’d turned away again. “Sure, honey.”
She sauntered away, and Fenton shook his head. “She’s something, that Dixie.”
Red nodded as he watched the stranger. “Fenton, I know that man. I just can’t pinpoint it, but I know him, and something about him smells.”
Dixie ordered their beers, then spoke with the stranger as she waited for the bartender. She glanced at Red and Fenton, and the stranger turned, eyeing them closely. A look of arrogance showed itself as he straightened and cast Red what seemed almost like a warning glare. Dixie brought over the beers and set them on the table, and the stranger followed her over.
“You two askin’ about me?” His eyes were a steely blue, and he needed a shave. A tan, wide-brimmed hat covered wavy, mousy-brown hair.
Red felt a deep dread. It was all coming back to him now—the medium build and a belly that pooched out more than it should for a man who otherwise was not that much overweight, plus…the odd Z-shaped scar on his chin. He remembered that scar. “I’ll be goddamned,” he growled. He jumped up so fast that his chair fell over. “You’re Mike Holt!”
Everyone in the saloon turned to stare, and Dixie stepped back. “My God,” she muttered. “You filthy rapist! What are you doing in Guthrie!”
Holt took a defensive stance, stepping back from Fenton and Red. “I was cleared of them charges, and I’m just moving on through—headed west. I ain’t from here, and I don’t intend to stay.”
“You came here to see if it was true that Jake Harkner doesn’t live here anymore!” Red roared. “And if you’re headed west, you’re out to find him!”
Fenton also rose, folding his powerful arms.
“Where I go is nobody’s business!” Holt sneered.
“How dare you come to Guthrie!” Red bellowed. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I told you they cleared me of all charges!”
“Not all charges! Far as I’m concerned, any man who stands by and lets other men abuse a beautiful, innocent woman is just as guilty of rape as the ones doing it to her! Get the hell out of Guthrie while you’re still able to walk, Holt! A lot of people in this town were right fond of Evie and her husband—fond of the whole Harkner family! Me and Fenton were at that shoot-out. We know what happened, and you’re just as goddamn guilty as the rest of them! I don’t care what that judge decreed!”
Practically everyone in the bar began moving toward Holt, who backed toward the door.
“I think we ought to teach him a lesson,” one of the other patrons spoke up, “in case he’s got plans to go make trouble for Jake or Lloyd. He ought to know he’d better not try it, and he should know how we feel about what he did back at Dune Hollow.”
“I’d like to shoot you myself,” Dixie sneered at Holt.
Holt looked her over scathingly, his upper lip curling when he spoke. “You that whore Jake Harkner used to fuck when he was off pretendin’ to be a lawman?”
“You bastard!” Red roared. He landed into Holt, shoving him out the door and into the now-bricked street. A man known around town for his fighting skills, he pelted Holt over and over while the rest of the men urged him on. Even Dixie screamed for Red to “beat him to a pulp!”
Holt was no match. It took only a few punches for Red to land him flat on his back, helpless against more blows. Finally, Fenton pulled Red away.
“You’ll kill him and go to jail!” he warned Red.
Red stood there panting, looking down at a bloodied Mike Holt. “That was for Jake—and for his angel of a daughter!” he growled, his hands still clenched into fists.
Hearing the ruckus, Sheriff Herbert Sparks was already on the scene. “What’s going on here?”
“Sparky, that man on the ground there is Mike Holt,” Fenton told him. “One of them that was at Dune Hollow—that one that got released.”
“Arrest that sonofabitch!” Holt told the sheriff, pointing to Red.
“For beating the hell out of a filthy rapist?” the sheriff answered. “I don’t care if he kills you, mister, so I suggest you get out of Guthrie just as fast as you can, or I’ll come up with some kind of charge that warrants a hanging.” He stuck his thumbs into his gun belt, which was half hidden by his big belly. “Everybody in this town was real fond of Harkner’s daughter, Holt, so you picked the wrong place to hang your hat!”