Max Collins - The Legend of Caleb York

“Not a damn thing,” Gauge admitted. “All we lack is tumbleweed rollin’ down Main.”

That stage would be carrying the first round of cattle buyers. Gauge had already decided to do business with them. With the clock ticking on the cowpox infestation, doing that was critical. No time for competitive bids.

“Stores all closed,” Rhomer was saying, shaking his head, gazing down the street.

“Is the café open?”

The proprietor, Lucas Jones, used to ride with Gauge, who was co-owner.

“He is, and Luke says he sold more than a few cups of coffee, first thing. Right around when men started in just sort of driftin’ out of town, not long after sunup. You know what else he says?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

The deputy’s eyes narrowed meaningfully. “Thought he might’ve saw the stranger goin’ into the hardware store, right after it opened... but ain’t sure.”

Gauge looked up and down the empty street.

Rhomer was saying, “Seems like all that’s left in town is women and kids, and they’re mostly keepin’ inside. What the hell’s goin’ on, Harry?”

He shook his head, disgusted. “It’s that stranger’s work. Has to be. Somehow he convinced these lily livers to go out and help Cullen in his time of need.”

The redheaded deputy tugged gently at his bandaged ear, making a sour face. “You should’ve killed that S.O.B. when you had the chance, Harry.”

“Well, Vint,” came a familiar female voice from behind them, “why didn’t you ?”

They turned to see Lola — ready for riding — in a blue-and-white shirt and navy split-skirt with matching gloves and boots — smirking at them sassily.

Gauge frowned. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Lola shrugged. Her eyes met Rhomer’s and he glanced away. “Nothing. Just an observation, posed as a question.”

“Well, keep your damn observations to yourself,” Gauge said irritably. “Questions too.”

She tossed her head. Her hair was up as usual, but she wore only light face paint. “All right. If you think Deputy Rhomer here is the kind of... advisor you prefer.”

Rhomer gave her a hard-eyed, nasty look, just before Gauge shoved his face at hers, taking her aback some.

He said, “How about you just keep that pretty mouth shut? I just about had it with you lipping off all the time.”

“Harry, I was only...”

“Lola, I killed men for less than I put up with out of you lately. Bear that in mind.”

Rhomer had a goofy smile going that Gauge picked up on. “What you grinning about, Vint?”

“Nothin’, Harry! I...”

He nodded behind him. “Go in and get that doctor out of sight.”

Rhomer frowned, cocked his head like a dog trying to understand its master’s words. “You mean... six feet under, out of sight?”

Gauge touched his chin, thought momentarily. “No. Not yet, anyway. If there’s trouble, we may need that quack.”

“Then... what...?”

The sheriff jerked a thumb toward the office. “Stick the doc in the back cell and keep somebody on guard. When this thing is over, if nobody needs patchin’ up... or, anyway, after they been patched up sufficient... then we’ll dig Miller a new surgery out on Boot Hill. About time this town had a new doctor, anyway.”

Rhomer, liking the sound of that, was just about to head back inside when Lola asked, “Say, Vint, what happened to your ear? Cut yourself shaving?”

The smile in his nest of beard oozed menace, but the deputy was turned away from Gauge, who didn’t tumble to it.

Rhomer said, “Naw, thought you knew, Lola — one of your girls did this to me. I got a little... rambunctious, I guess.”

“Boys will be boys,” she said.

“Well, she better look out. Might get what she deserves.”

He went in.

Then Lola was at Gauge’s side, saying, “So you’ve got the elderly doctor handled. Congratulations. Now, what about Banion? What are you going to do about him?”

Gauge chuckled, stepping away from her. “Banion? Why, I’m not going to do a damn thing about Banion.”

Relishing his secret joke, he got the wire out, reading it to himself yet another time, savoring the words that spoke of Banion’s death two months before. Then he wadded up the slip of paper and tossed it into the street.

After watching this curious conduct with some confusion, Lola reared her head back and smiled at him... but her eyes were hateful, and this he caught.

“Why not go after him, Harry? Or has Banion got you scared?”

He backhanded her and she went down on the porch like a bundle of kindling, the plank flooring groaning though she herself made not a sound. She stayed down there awhile, her back arching like an animal about to strike.

Then she had that derringer in her hand, courtesy of the gambler’s holdout rig up her sleeve.

As she started up, Gauge kicked the little gun out of her gloved fingers, as easy as swatting a fly. The toe of his boot caught her hand enough to make her yowl.

She was still down there, a wounded, cornered animal, breathing hard, looking up at him with eyes showing white all around, nostrils flared, teeth showing, leaning one hand against the planking, the other touching the redness of her cheek.

Her breath regular now, her voice seemed surprisingly soft and almost uninflected — no anger apparent, only hurt, and not the hurt of flesh, but something deeper.

“Why do you keep doing that, Harry? How many times have I told you never to hit me? How can you treat me like this after all we’ve been to each other?”

He grabbed her by an arm and hauled her up, and it took her a while to get her footing, brushing off her split-skirt as she did.

“You’re right, Lola. We have... been... something to each other. ‘Been,’ as in ‘we ain’t anymore.’ ”

She stared at him as if he were a stranger now. “What are you...?”

He took her by both arms and squeezed, not enough to hurt, but to demonstrate control.

“I just don’t need you anymore, kid. Oh, I’m not throwin’ you out — not exactly. You do what I tell you to, and maybe I’ll let you stay on in Trinidad. Misbehave, and maybe I won’t.”

She swallowed hard, her chin quivering, small, trembling fists held waist-high. “I brought you to Trinidad, Harry. Never forget that. I made you. You started with my money.”

“That’s right,” he said. “You made me. But how many times did I make you?” He laughed lightly and shrugged. “It all worked out real nice, didn’t it? Well, it’ll work out even better now.”

She stood very close to him, gazing up at him, and there was something fearless about it that impressed him some.

She said, “You really think that Cullen girl is woman enough for you? Not that she’d ever have you. She’d kill herself before letting you touch her.”

“Maybe I don’t mean to ask,” he said, and he shoved her away and went back into his office, slamming the door on her.

Gauge didn’t see Lola — going out in the street to retrieve the derringer — notice the wad of paper he had tossed there. And bend down in the street to pick it up...

Nor did he see her come back up on the porch, intending to confront him again, but stopping as voices from inside came through the open shutters.

“Vint, that stage stops at the relay station to make its change of horses before comin’ into town.”

“That’s right, Harry, same as always. And the passengers can have a drink or two while they’s waitin’. So what?”

“So we’ll meet those cattle buyers out there, before they even get to town. Old Man Cullen won’t think of that, and even if he does... we’ll be waiting.”