Head Of The Snake. G. Rehder
stepped back and stammered, “No, sir.”
I pulled out my wallet, pulled another twenty out, and slapped it on the counter. “This should cover anything I might steal. We good.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, a startled look on her face.
“So, young lady, where can I get a good steak?”
She hesitated a moment, like she was thinking about a real difficult question. “Saddle Back Saloon, just down the street.”
I turned and walked to my vehicle, looking up to the second-floor landing for my room, number 211. As I looked up, I noticed the gray storm clouds and the towns lights reflecting up on the weather front that had followed me all the way from Montana. I knew it would bust loose anytime.
I had a secret compartment under a hatch in the back of the Toyota. I had placed my bag with my weapons and SAT phone there for safekeeping. I grabbed my clothes bag, pulled my Desert Eagle out of the hidden bag and tucked it in the back of my jeans hidden by my coat, went up to my room, and set my bag down.
The room was sparse but looked clean. I checked my appearance in the bathroom mirror, removed my ball cap and rinsed my face, water clinging to my untrimmed beard. My stomach was growling. Time for that steak.
I found the Saddle Back Saloon just as the rain started bursting from the sky. I pulled up my collar, cinched my ball cap down on my head, and went for the door. I got on the covered porch and looked into the front window, only a few patrons sitting at tables and three guys playing pool. I was hoping the young lady didn’t steer me wrong since I gave her a bad time.
I walked in, and the three guys at the pool table stared at me as I waited for the waitress to seat me. She was a short redhead that looked like she had squeezed into her uniform.
“You by yourself tonight, mister?” she asked.
I looked behind me, then said, “As far as I know.”
“I got a table by the fireplace.”
“Sounds good to me,” I answered.
I sat down, and she handed me a menu.
“Anything to drink tonight? We got some good microbrews on tap.”
“Yeah, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”
She turned and left.
After watching me get seated, the three guys playing pool went back to their game, laughing and talking loudly. I guessed I wasn’t going to have a peaceful meal. Short red brought my draft and set it on the table. The wet glass slid to my right. The table slopped that way.
“So what brings you out on this stormy night?” she asked.
“Just traveling through,” I said.
“You heading to Cheyenne?” she asked again.
I was tired and hungry and getting annoyed at her questions.
“Just looking for something to eat right now,” I replied.
“Okay then. What can I get started for you?” she asked curtly.
“How’s your rib eye?”
“Best if you have it medium rare.”
“Okay, I’ll have one with a baked potato.”
“Sorry,” she said, “we just got mashed. That okay?”
I was tired, and my patience was slim at this point, I just answered, “Whatever, whatever you got is fine.” I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture.
She turned away, and I saw her throw a nod of her head back at me while looking at the pool players.
Several minutes later, the smallest man at the pool table walked toward mine. I went to high alert. He had a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were squinting from the smoke as he looked my way. When he got to my table, he was still carrying his pool cue, his hand was wrapped around it tight as it rested on his shoulder, I noticed tattooed letters above his knuckles. I recognized TINA in script.
“You got a problem, mister?”
I looked him in the eyes without answering. I moved my hands to the edge of the table.
“Why you givin’ my lady a hard time? She’s just doing her job. I need you to apologize to her when she brings your meal. You hear me, man?”
I saw the other two men began to walk across the room to back up their partner. The three men looked related, ugly men, with meanness oozing from their eyes.
“Answer me, mister. You gonna apologize? Or are we cracking you upside your head?”
I didn’t want the other two men to get any closer. I pushed the table hard and fast into the smaller man’s thighs. He stumbled back as I stood. I grabbed his cue at the narrow end with my left hand as he stumbled. I swung it around my head then hard against the right side of his skull. The crack was loud, and it briefly startled his buddies. He dropped to his knees.
The bigger guy to my right pulled a long hunting knife and lounged my way. As he swung it at my face, I hit his wrist hard with the cue. I knew I had broken it. I grabbed his wrist and turned it backward, inflicting more pain as he screamed the knife fell to the ground.
I dropped the cue stick and used my left hand to deliver an open palm strike to his nose. I felt bone break on contact. As he was dropping, I pulled my Desert Eagle from behind my back and pointed it at number three.
Then a loud voice yelled, “That’s enough.”
I glanced to my left and a rain jacketed man with a Stetson dripping water stood there with a shotgun aimed at all four of us.
The third man that was still standing backed away, almost cowering.
Stetson looked at me and asked, “Army?”
“Yep,” I said.
Then he asked, “You got a permit for that cannon?”
“I do.”
“You LEO?” I asked him.
“Federal, Park Ranger, from Flaming Gorge.”
“You gonna arrest me?” I asked.
“Not if you put that gun away.”
I slowly put the Eagle back behind my back under my belt.
Stetson was still looking at me, ignoring the three others. “I know these boys here. They’re trouble. They set strangers up all the time. So I’m going to take your side on this one. Besides, I saw your moves as I walked in the back door. Special ops training’s my guess.”
“Yep, your guess is right.”
“Okay, listen, if you have a room here in town, I’d recommend you grab your belongings now. Move on down the road whatever direction you’re heading. I’ll hold these boys off. Maybe call them an ambulance. Now get moving.”
Then he looked over at short red. “Tina, you stay right there. No calling your kin in on this, lest you want Wayne, Billie, and Ansel to feel my wrath.”
Tina nodded and stood there.
I turned and walked out the front as the rain was heavier than earlier. I jumped in the Four Runner and headed to Motel 8. I got to my room, grabbed my bag, and left my key on the dresser. I didn’t want to talk to the blond in the office again she might have set me up.
I drove out of the lot, got to 80 East, to Cheyenne. I was still tired and hungry, but the adrenaline rush from the bar brawl kept my eyes wide open. I remembered that I didn’t even thank Stetson as I walked out. No matter, I knew he was ex-Army like me, a brother helping out a brother.
I would find food and sleep in Cheyenne. I looked at it in a positive way, just brought me closer to Questa, New Mexico, and Mike Groves.
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