Snake River Slaughter. William W. Johnstone

made his declaration known.

      Realizing that his backup had not only been discovered, but killed, the expression on Madison’s face changed quickly from one of easy confidence to shock and fear over the fact that he no longer had an edge. Frightened now, he pulled the trigger on his pistol, even before he could bring it all the way up to bear. The bullet from Madison’s gun hit a spittoon that was sitting on the floor halfway between him and Matt, causing a fountain of noxious brown liquid to erupt from the container.

      Matt’s second shot hit Madison in the forehead, and he fell back.

      Matt continued to hold his pistol at the ready as the smoke from the four gun discharges drifted toward the ceiling, then spread out to collect in a bluish gray, nostril-burning cloud that hovered just above the wagon wheel chandelier. He looked around quickly to make certain there were no other challengers.

      Seeing none, he holstered his pistol, then looked over at the bartender who had ducked down behind the bar when the shooting started.

      “You can stand up now,” Matt said, easily.

      “Is it all over?” the bartender asked in a nervous voice.

      “It’s all over, and it looks like I’ll be needing another beer,” Matt said.

      Like everyone else, Gilmore had been shocked by the sudden drama that had erupted in here. Unlike everyone else, Gilmore knew Madison and Jernigan, and he knew they were unpleasant characters, but he did not realize they would actually commit, or at least attempt to commit, murder.

      Logan, the third man of the group, had watched the whole thing from just on the other side of the batwing doors. He came back into the saloon now, to have a closer look at his two dead friends. Gilmore held his breath while he waited to see what Logan was going to do. To his surprised relief, Logan did nothing but look around for a moment, then, turning, he left the saloon.