Hollicott Crossing

Bert Rawlings, he called.
Rawlings turned in his seat and slowly rose to his feet. He knew he, himself, was fast with a gun and it had come down to who was faster, him or Johnson. When he was fully erect, he kicked the chair from him. With a smirk of a smile on one corner of his mouth, he spoke.
Well, what can I do for you Mr. Johnson? There was a mocking tone to his voice.
Ive come to settle a d...