Max Collins - The Legend of Caleb York

“Very kind of you, ma’am. Very generous.”

“I told you I prefer ‘Lola’ to ‘ma’am.’ Don’t you think I’ve earned the right to get a name from you?”

“I like the way you call me ‘stranger.’ Kind of has a nice ring.”

“Your name might have a nicer one.”

“Maybe it would...”

“So what is it?”

The jingle of spurs stopped.

The woman asked again, “What is it?”

But there was an urgency in the words that said the female was no longer asking about his name.

Willa froze, already plastered against the mercantile door, shadowed in darkness. She’d made no sound.

What might he have heard?

The spur jingle returned, making quicker music, and he walked right by her. Went over to his hitched-up horse and withdrew a shotgun from its scabbard, and a handful of shells from a saddlebag. He put three in a breast pocket, three more in the right pocket of his black cotton trousers.

The fancy woman was at his side now, concerned, touching his sleeve. Eyeing the shotgun, she said, “What’s that for?”

“I don’t like sudden silences.”

“... It’s a sleepy town after dark. You’ll get used to it.”

“You have to be dead to get used to it.”

Finally they walked on.

This gave Willa the opportunity to slip out of her hiding place. She moved quietly to her horse, disgusted that these two were headed to the hotel together, disgusted with herself that she’d volunteered to come to Trinidad and find the stranger, and what? Bat her eyelashes at him till he gave her his name?

That Lola creature was ready to give him much more than that for revealing his identity. Maybe the woman already had done so, getting nowhere for her trouble. Served the trollop right.

Willa approached Daisy, who whinnied just a little, and the stranger and his female companion turned immediately toward her, just one store down from where she stood. She hoped the red burning her face did not show in the moonlight.

The female smiled big and said, “Well! Good evening, Miss Cullen. Aren’t you afraid to be out in this chilly night air?”

“I am of the people out walking around in it,” she said, even chillier.

The dance-hall queen had the temerity to walk nearer. “Then maybe it would be better if you stayed out on that ranch of yours. Where it’s safe. Trinidad after dark is no place for a sweet young girl like yourself to be.”

Willa glared at her, but said nothing.

With a tiny, sneering smile, the female returned to her escort, offering her crooked elbow for his arm, and said, “Coming, stranger?”

He gave her a mild smile. “Do you mind walking the rest of the way yourself? I have to meet someone tonight, before I check into the hotel.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Nothing to do with you... ma’am.”

He tipped his Stetson.

The female shrugged and said, “Good night, stranger. And thank you for this afternoon. Thank you very much.” She reached her face up and gave him a quick kiss, then crossed the street, hips swaying — Disgusting! Willa thought — heading toward the hotel.

The stranger walked over to Willa, taking his time, glancing toward the retreating female, who was entering the hotel now.

“Well, you choose sides quick enough,” she said to him. “What kind of offer did she make?”

“Does it make any difference?”

Burning, she said, “Not to me.”

She started for Daisy and he stopped her by the arm.

“Let go of me!” she blurted.

“Try shutting up for a change.”

The surprising harshness of that made her draw in breath, but he held up a hand, palm out.

He said, in a near whisper, “I don’t like the smell of this.”

“Smell of what?”

“It’s hanging in the air like smoke.”

“What?”

He put his hands on the sides of her arms, facing her. “Listen to me now. Step back into that doorway. Stay in the shadows. Something’s going to happen and I don’t want you to be part of it.”

“Stop this,” she said through tight teeth, shaking free. “Do you think I scare that easily? Because I don’t.”

“Good for you,” he said. “Because I do.”

Lola unlocked the door of her room at the hotel and flinched, startled by the sight of Sheriff Harry Gauge, seated in a hardback chair arranged to face her upon her arrival.

“What’s the idea?” she said irritably, shutting the door behind her. “Want me to jump out of my skin?”

He didn’t look at all friendly. He leaned forward, hands clasped and dropped between spread knees, his holstered .45 hanging loose, too, its tie-down strap dangling. He was at once casual and deadly.

“Well?” he said.

“Well... what?”

“What did you get out of that S.O.B.?”

She sat on the edge of the nearby bed, a bed big enough for two; its springs whined. “Nothing. Not a damn thing.”

He frowned. “You mean, no name? No nothing? Damn, woman, do you have any idea how long you were in there with him?”

She shrugged. “He was dog-tired. Been riding all night, and probably exerted himself killing your stupid underlings. No hotel rooms available, so I let him nap all afternoon in one of the girls’ cribs.”

Gauge scowled. “You mean, you had him alone in a room, asleep, and didn’t tell me?”

She curled her upper lip at him. “Why, so you could stage another killing in my saloon? And the answer is, yes — what I got out of him is exactly what I said. Nothing. ”

His smile was terrible. “You aren’t that stupid. You got two little fingers you can wrap men around, and I’ve seen you do it.”

She shrugged, shook her head. “He doesn’t talk much. Plays his cards close to the vest... Speaking of which, he won several hundred this afternoon. Man knows his poker.”

“Tell me you picked up something. ”

She thought about it. “Well... whoever he is, he doesn’t want it known. Very cagey about that. I think he really may be passing through. Could be wanted.”

“A dude like that?”

She let out a little laugh. “A dude that shot down two of your boys who already had the drop on him. You can see that this one’s got all the instincts of a gunfighter. I wouldn’t pay any never-mind to the way he dresses. Hell, look how Bill Hickok used to dude up.”

“He ain’t no Hickok.”

“But he’s somebody. He’s got a style about him that I just can’t put my finger on.”

Gauge got up suddenly, standing as straight as he’d been slumped before. “Maybe you’d like to lay more than just a finger on him, huh?”

She bared her teeth. “And what if I do? What if I did ? Didn’t you say you wanted me to use my talents?”

“I don’t care about that. Once a whore, always a whore. Just don’t go takin’ a shine to that dude or anything.” He started toward her, a fist raised like a rock. “Or I’ll...”

“Or you’ll nothing, ” she said, and she showed him the derringer she’d had up her sleeve. “You’re not to hit me no more, Harry. Remember?”

“Not bad,” he said, grinning appreciatively, nodding at the little gun. “Maybe I should’ve sent you to kill that stranger, not Britt and Manning.”

She frowned. “You wouldn’t send saddle tramps like those two to take that one down, would you?”

“Wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head, rolled her eyes. “They aren’t man enough for the job, Harry.”

“We’ll see.”

She found his gaze and held it. “There’s only one man in this town who could take that stranger, Harry... and I’m looking at him.”

He came over and kissed her roughly.