Apparently sensing this, and realizing that it gave him an advantage, Jess became bold.

``Having all the guns makes you a big man, don't it, Adams? If we was both armed, you wouldn't talk so tough.''

``No?'' Curt reached out and dropped Jess's pistol back into the holster. He retreated a step and holstered his own.

``All right, Crouch; we're on even terms. Now draw!''

Sweat bubbled out on Jess's swarthy face. The fingers of his right hand twisted into a claw, but he didn't reach for the gun.

Curt, angry enough to be a little reckless, raised his hands shoulder high.

``Does this make it any easier, coward?''

``I ain't drawin' against you,'' Jess said thickly. ``I heard how you outdrew Chico. I ain't a gunslinger.''

``No. You're the kind of bastard who sneaks up on a man from behind and hits him with a club. I just wanted to hear you say so.''

Jess stared at him without answering and let his hands fall to his sides. He had found Curt's weakness, or what to Jess was a weakness, and was smart enough to take advantage of it.

Somewhere in the distance, a woman screamed. Curt was too involved in his own problems to pay much attention. He had to make Jess talk, and he had to do it before Stacey Black got curious and came to investigate. Once more he lifted Jess's gun from its holster, only this time he tossed it into the stall with the frightened buckskin. He dropped his own beside it.