“My Coffee’s Getting Cold,” He Didn’t Blink… As the Gunslinger Put His Gun to the Old Cowboy’s Head скачать в хорошем качестве

“My Coffee’s Getting Cold,” He Didn’t Blink… As the Gunslinger Put His Gun to the Old Cowboy’s Head

The gunman put the gun barrel to the old man's forehead. The old man didn't even blink and just asked: "Will it take long? My coffee is getting cold." The saloon in Broken Creek fell silent that October morning in 1882. Every man present knew Jake Tolliver, the fastest gun that ever crossed the Pecos River. Seven confirmed kills, maybe twice that without witnesses. But nobody there knew the white-bearded old man sitting at the corner table, calmly sipping his coffee. Jake had ridden into town at dawn, his duster coat dusty from three days on the trail. He was hunting a man, and word in the territory said that man might be hiding in Broken Creek. When Jake walked through those batwing doors, his hand already resting on his Colt, he scanned every face in the room. Then he saw him. The old man. Something about those eyes, those weathered hands wrapped around that tin cup. "You're him," Jake said, his voice cold as a December wind. "You're Samuel Cross." The old man took another sip of coffee. "That name doesn't mean much these days, son." "Means plenty to me," Jake replied, drawing his revolver in one fluid motion. He pressed the barrel against the old man's forehead, expecting fear, expecting pleading. Instead, Samuel Cross looked up at him with tired eyes that had seen too much death to be afraid of one more. "Will it take long?" the old man asked. "My coffee is getting cold." Jake's finger trembled on the trigger. Something was wrong. No man faces death this calmly unless he's already made peace with it, or unless he knows something you don't.