Don't Tamper with Horses

Continuing from December 12.

Jim took a deep breath as he poured ipecac-spiked whiskey into glasses on the bar. He met June's fearful eyes as she arranged them on a tray and gave her a tiny smile. Behind her, the saloon was full of Deveney's gang. Jim gave her a nod, sending her off to the tables with another round of truly medicinal whiskey and took another deep breath. He hoped Moss knew what he was doing.

Deveney's men had ridden into town the same as ever, running their horses straight down the street and stopping at the saloon in a cloud of dust. They looked the same, sounded the same, and Jim struggled not to think of the last time they'd come, when all that stood between he and Junie and death was a lucky saddle bum. He picked up another bottle and filled glasses along the bar, watching the men for any signs of the ipecac taking effect.

June walked from the door that led to the kitchen, a cup of black coffee in her hand. She glanced at Jim, worry in her eyes, as she took it to the table and set it in front of the head outlaw himself.

Jim ran a rag over the bar, mopping up spills and hiding his shaking hands.

"What are we going to do?" June whispered as she stood beside him. "Deveney isn't drinking whiskey today, neither is Riker."

"We knew it was a long shot that we would get everybody," Jim mumbled back. "It's too late to back down. Stick to the plan, Junie, and wipe the fear off your face." He smiled at her as she straightened her back and met his eyes. A new light of determination fired in them.

One of the outlaws stumbled against the bar. He'd been pouring shots down his throat like water and Jim wondered how much ipecac the young man had ingested. Enough, he supposed, as the boy grabbed his stomach and ran for the door. The sound of his retching made the other outlaws laugh...To be continued