"Harlan Ellison - The End of the Time of Leinard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ellison Harlan)

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The End of the Time of Leinard


by Harlan Ellison

Fictionwise Publications
This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ©1958 Harlan Ellison. Renewed, copyright © 1986
HarlanEllison. All rights reserved.


Sheriff Frank Leinard felt the creeping cold of the grave—his or the
old man's—riming his body. Every inch of his skin; but not the flesh
of his right hand. He stood ready, right hand warm and loose, poised
in limbo above the gun. His belly was drawn in tightly, his legs well-
planted, body half-turned to present the narrowest target.
“I don't want to draw on you, Gus ... don't make me,” he said softly.
But his voice carried down the street to the old man.
The breeze coming in from the west end of town ruffled his lank
brown hair. The breeze whispered of holy rain for which the town
had hoped, and it bore the metallic scent of the barranca, miles
away. The breeze also stirred the shirttail hanging from Gus
Tabbert's pants. The flap of cotton shirting over the old man's

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holster.
Tabbert swayed. It was obvious he was drunk. “’N I ain't gonna
make ya draw, Sher'f. But you ain't gonna take me t'no jail,
neither...”
The Sheriff's hard, square face grew even tighter. “We don't like
drunks that make noise and shoot up the Palace, Gus. You know
that. Now just settle back and don't make me draw on you.”
There was a staggering movement from Tabbert, and he fumbled
awkwardly past the shirttail, trying to get his fingers around the old,
heavy Colt Walker.
Frank Leinard's right hand became invisible for an instant, and
reappeared with the big Colt Army .44 free of the holster; and the
August peace of the town was shattered by two sharp, quick reports,
like a bull-whip snick-snickering.