Chapter Two Three Seconds in Hope

The bartender swallowed and poured coffee into a cup. Jack lifted the cup and took one swallow before Rusk spoke. "You Jack Walker?" The air in the saloon tightened. Jack did not turn. "Best give your own name before asking for mine." Someone sucked in a breath. Rusk smiled slowly. "Caleb Rusk. Folks usually know that name before I clear leather." Jack set down the coffee. "Then you've met too many men who talk." Chairs creaked. Some men moved toward the door. Others crouched lower. The piano player pulled his hands from the keys as if sound itself might draw a bullet. Rusk stood. He was half a head taller than Jack, with shoulders broad enough to block a doorway.