Elmore Leonard - Gunsights

“What're you nervous about?” Early asked him.

Bruckner pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead and down over his nose and mouth. “Goddamn dinky office is like a hotbox. I'm gonna get out of here pretty soon, run for the job in Tomb-stone next year. Shit, if I can't beat Fly, with my experience in law enforcement-”

“Let's get this done first,” Early said.

Bruckner nodded, mind made up. “Tonight, eleven o'clock… No, five minutes before eleven. You come, leave a horse for him in front. Step inside and give me a nod. I'll go back and get your partner, lock myself up in his cell.”

“Why not the back door?” Early said. “In the alley.”

“That door don't open. It's bolted shut.”

“All right, let me talk to him now.”

“Tell him five minutes before eleven,” Bruckner said.

This time it was Moon in the cell and Early looking through the bars.

He said, “I talked to John Slaughter before they moved their show out of here. John says they didn't have a choice, you shot three men in that yard. They'll hold your trial at the county seat. Now, considering everything, the company'll turn on the pressure to get a conviction. See if they can send you to Yuma.”

“It's a lot of country from here to there,” Moon said. “Kate visits tomorrow, I'll talk to her about it. You don't have to get involved in this.”

“I already am,” Early said. “Sundeen was here about a half-hour ago. The way I see it, he doesn't want you in here either. He's been keeping quiet, but that business in Sonora's still eating him.”

“I know that,” Moon said.

“I talked to Bruckner and he was already there waiting. Had the time set and everything.”

“What'd you pay him?”

“Not much. He owes me a favor. But wouldn't it make his heart glad to shoot you going out the door and me standing there? Or Sundeen. He paid a visit-something's already been arranged here, I can feel it.”

“I can smell it,” Moon said. “But this isn't any of your business. If he's gonna open the door, I'll take my own chances.”

“What was it you said the time I was in there and you were out here?” Early paused before reciting the words from three years ago. “‘You might see it coming, but I doubt it.’ Well, you'll probably hear me three blocks away.”

“Drawing your sword and yelling, ‘Charge,’” Moon said. “It should be something to watch.”

The parlor was semi-dark with only one lamp lit, turned low. When Kate came down the stairs, Janet Pierson turned from the front window.

“Did you rest?”

“A little. I didn't sleep though.”

Kate walked over to the hall tree and took down her husband's suitcoat and holstered revolver. (They had taken him out of the house in his shirt-sleeves, hurrying to get him past the throng of newsmen.)

Watching her, Janet said, “I envy you. I'm not sure why, but I do.”

Kate draped the coat over the back of a chair. Holding the shoulder holster, she slipped the Colt's revolver in and out of the smooth leather groove, then drew the gun and looked at the loads in the chambers as she said, “You don't have to envy anyone. You can do whatever you want with your life.”

“But you know what you want.”

“This minute I do,” Kate said. “I want my husband. If I have to shoot somebody to get him, I will. It's not something I have to think about and decide.” She looked toward the kitchen, at the sound of the back door opening and closing, then at Janet again. “This doesn't mean anything to you personally. Why get mixed up in something just for the sake of taking sides?”

The question was left unanswered. Bren Early came in from the kitchen with saddlebags over one shoulder.

“I haven't seen a soul in front,” Janet said to him.

“Tired of waiting around,” Bren said. “They're in the saloon telling each other stories.” He took the holstered revolver from Kate and slipped it into the saddlebag that hung in front of him. “I still think it'd be better if you waited here.”

Kate shook her head. “I'll be out on the road. If you won't let me any closer-”

“You might hear shooting,” Bren said. “This man wants to make it look real. Stay where you are till Moon gets there. But for some reason he doesn't-he gets delayed or has to ride out the other way, you come back here.”

“What do you mean, gets delayed? I thought it was all arranged.”

“It is. I'm talking about if something happens to change the plan…somebody comes along doesn't know about it. That's all.”

“You're not telling me everything,” Kate said. “What is it?”

“Believe me,” Bren said, “Dana's gonna walk out. But you have to be patient and not spook if you hear a lot of noise. All right? Wait'll I'm gone a few minutes before you leave.”

“I'll be out there before eleven,” Kate said. “By the first bend.”

Janet watched Bren pick up Moon's coat, then lean toward Kate and kiss her on the cheek. Turning he looked at Janet. “I'll be back in a little while.” And went out through the kitchen.

The room was quiet again.

“I don't know what to say to him.” Janet turned to the window to watch for him. He'd ride past the front of the house leading Moon's horse.

“Then don't say anything,” Kate said, walking over to her, her gaze going out the window to the dark street.

“I feel-I don't feel part of him or what any of you are doing.”

“Well, you can come up the mountain for a visit, except I don't think it's a very good time.” Kate paused and put her hand on Janet's shoulder. “Why don't you just marry him and quit thinking about it?”

“You sound like Bren now.”

“If you have to be absolutely sure before you make a move,” Kate said, “then forget it. Else you're gonna be sitting here with cobwebs all over you.”

LaSalle street was quiet: first-shift miners in bed for the night, the second shift still up at the works where dots of lantern light marked the shaft scaffolding and company buildings; the crushing mill was dark, the ore tailings black humps running down the slope.

Sundeen, mounted, came down out of that darkness into the main street, holding his horse to a walk past the store fronts and evenly spaced young trees planted to grow along the sidewalk. The porch of the Congress Hotel was deserted. Lights showed in the lobby and in saloons and upstairs windows down the street. It was quarter to eleven. At the sound of gunfire they'd pour out of the saloons-most of them who were sober or not betting against a pot-the news reporters coming out of their hangout, the Gold Dollar, which was on the northeast corner of LaSalle and Fourth streets. The jail was on the southwest corner, the cellblock extending along Fourth toward Mill Street. On the corner across Fourth from the jail was the Maricopa State Bank. On the corner across LaSalle-where Sundeen now dropped his reins and stepped down from his horse-was the I.S. Weiss Mercantile Store.

Sundeen, looking at the jail and its two lighted windows-the one to the left of the door Bruckner's office-did not see the dark figure sitting on the steps of the bank, catty-corner from him.

When the figure got to its feet Sundeen caught the movement and knew who it was: yes, crossing Fourth Street toward the jail with something dark draped over his shoulder and carrying a short club or something in his left hand. No, not a club. The object gave off a glint and took shape in the light from the jail window and Sundeen saw it was a stubby little shotgun.

Early stopped. He half turned to look across toward the Mercantile Store.

“It isn't gonna be as easy as you thought.”

“What is?” Sundeen said. Shit.