Flynn Book II

She watched helplessly as Preston stepped into the street, conscious of the sudden hush that fell over the crowd.  They had gathered to watch their marshal accept a challenge that could cost him his life.  This was his first since he took office, and they were anxious to see this right-handed man use his left to protect himself against a man who''s reputation was only surpassed by his own.  It was possible that they were about to witness the downfall of this powerful young lawman.                           

Anna stood paralyzed with fear in front of the hotel, forcing herself to watch, realizing that the intense moment that was about to occur could be the last act of Preston''s life.

Freeman took his rifle down from the gun rack, checked the chamber, and stalked out the door.

Bert watched him with a worried frown, then followed.  "Give this some thought, Freeman."

"I have.  If that bastard drops Preston, it''ll be the last thing he ever does.  He won''t be around to enjoy his cowardly reputation for shooting a United States Marshal who ain''t able to rightly defend hisself."

"You won''t do that, Freeman."

"By God, I will.  I''ll kill any man that harms Preston."

He walked along the boardwalk, step for step with every stride Preston took.  When Preston stopped, he stopped, watching him, then Quirk, waiting for the sign that would tell Preston when to make his move.

Like all the other men Preston had faced, Quirk was disturbed by his calm manner, shocked in the face of his superior appearance and dispassionate composure.  The cold and deliberate conveyance in his ice blue eyes was as expressionless and fixed as the blank stare of a corpse, drilling him, and he imagined Preston was looking into his very core.  Quirk stared back, swallowed hard, felt a jolt of fear travel up his spine when Preston shifted into his stance, and the slight smile he was famous far touched his lips, never reaching his eyes.  A murmur swept the crowd.

Freeman saw Preston close down, imagined he could feel the heat of his awesome concentration.  He was unreadable, his emotions sealed, his breathing no longer discernible.  Quirk was at his mercy, this he knew.  Preston seemed to have slipped into a sixth sense, becoming aware of the invisible flick of a muscle, the hint of a blink, a change in breathing, the whisper of a finger.  Freeman held his breath.