Читать книгу Damn Loot! онлайн

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Fortunately, it didn't last long, because with a knock in the head that would flatten a bison, Joe sent him to sleep as well. In the confusion, the remaining amigo scampered past Weasel on all fours in attempt plant the blade in the calf of the brute. However, the boy saw him coming and promptly and planted the tip of his boot in his temple, putting him definitively out of action. The three amigos would not be back on their feet any time soon. All the other patrons stopped laughing and, feigning disinterest, returned to their own business.

The barman shook his head with a grimace, threw the cloth he was using to dry the glasses onto the counter and took a deep breath. In that godforsaken place, not a week went by without a fight. Otthims noticed his consternation and consoled him: "I hope I didn't do too much damage. I reckon I know what it’s like: I used to run my own saloon once." Except that in his saloon, there had never been enough patrons to even have a one-on-one brawl.

The giant rummaged through the pockets of two of the men he had knocked out. He barely made it to nine dollars in all, which he promptly deposited on the counter. “This is for the ruckus. Young Badfinger, clean that one up too." He pointed to the guy lying beside the boy. It was the braggart who had taunted him. He had only six dollars in his pocket. To compensate, he was able to recover a gold tooth with a well-aimed pistol whip to the mouth.