"Stranger, you'll have to shuck them irons. City ordinance says a man can't carry pistols inside the city limits."
"I notice I ain't the only one with a full gunbelt," Brek said slowly.
The man's eyes narrowed. "Them happens to be John Sager's men, mister, and they all happen to be deputies." His pistol came out suddenly. "I'm orderin' you to take 'em off."
Brek shrugged and unbuckled the belt.
"I ain't lookin' for an argument," he said, handing the gunbelt to the sheriff. But as the sheriff reached for the belt, Brek lashed out with one hand, slapping the other's weapon aside. It skittered across the floor as Brek jerked one of his own guns from the belt and sent the sheriff reeling backward with a blow in the chest.
Several of the other armed men started to reach for their hips, but Brek's icy voice stopped them short. "First man to touch a gun gets lead!"
The sheriff's face grew red. "You've got trouble, stranger."
"Maybe. But them guns is mine."
"You're trying to buck the law," said the sheriff.
Brek grinned. "It's a damn fool law that needs so many men to enforce it. If you was the only one packin' irons, I might be persuaded to gie 'em to the barkeep here. But as long as everybody is carryin' full holsters, I reckon I don't want to be out of style. I'd look too conspicuous."