William MacDonald - Shoot Him On Sight

She glanced up suddenly, saying, "Hello, Shel. Business looks good tonight." Webster had arrived at the table.

I tensed, wondering how he'd take to my being with Topaz, wondering what chance I'd have against his underarm gun, if the worst came. I had half started to rise from my chair, but he put one hand on my shoulder. "Sit easy, Cardinal. I'm just passing by." Even so, I caught the brief scowl that flitted across his face, then he forced one of his thin-lipped smiles, saying to Topaz, "Yes, I can't kick on the money rolling in. The bar is jammed. I had to get another barkeep to help Turk."

Topaz said quietly, "I think I'll leave early tonight. Things are running all right. I'll tell Doris to take over for me. Is that okay with you?"

"Anything you say, Topaz," he replied genially. "Not off your feed, are you?"

She shook her head. "A bit tired, that's all." A sort of meaningful glance passed between them. I didn't miss that, and it started me wondering.

"I'll see you in the morning then," Webster said. He patted my shoulder. "Enjoy yourself, Cardinal."

"How could I do otherwise—here?"

He caught my meaning all right, and his lips tightened. Then he laughed shortly and turned away. I twisted in my chair and saw he had returned to the barroom.

I turned back to Topaz. "Danged if he wasn't almost friendly for a minute."

"Don't think he trusts you though, Johnny, not for a second," she said surprisingly. "He doesn't like you bringing some Mexican into town—Serrano, is it?" I nodded. She continued, "He may appear to be playing along with you —but—" She broke off. "I understand you and Shel are dickering over some matter regarding Tawney, the man who runs the Box-CT Ranch."

"We've mentioned him a couple of times," I said cautiously. "What do you know about it?"

"Shel can't believe you're on the square with him, despite your talk."

"Maybe he's smarter than I think," I laughed. "I don't sell my gun for peanuts."

"Johnny, don't try to pull the wool over my eyes," she smiled. Then abruptly changed the subject. "I can make a fairly decent cup of coffee. I'm going home to make one now."

"Is that an invitation?" I grinned.

"If you like," she said carelessly.

"I like! Jeepers, how I like!" I started to rise from my chair.

Topaz said, "Please don't follow me too closely. Give me time to leave."

On my feet, I said "Good-night," and watched her while she circled the room and stopped long enough to talk a minute with one of the girls. Then she pushed through the big double-doored entrance of the gambling parlors and disappeared to the street.

I waited ten minutes that seemed like an hour, then took my departure by way of the bar, where two perspiring bartenders were serving the needs of thirsty customers. I looked around for Webster. He stood at the far end of the bar conversing with three hard-looking characters. He glanced up, saw me taking my departure and nodded pleasantly enough. Somehow, that didn't seem natural, and it got me to wondering.

On the street, I headed for Topaz's house, slowing my step a mite. I was still doing some wondering. Webster's unusually pleasant manner was making me suspicious. This whole thing could be some sort of frame-up to get me out of Webster's hair. That, of course, involved Topaz. I didn't like that thought a-tall. Regardless, I couldn't figure her as a double-crosser. Anyway, I refused to. Well, as the poet said, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The directions Topaz had given were simple to follow; I couldn't miss. I left the main drag, turned a block along one street, then turned again. There was the house all right. Whitewashed adobe, white picket fence, big cottonwood. I slowed step a moment, to look over the terrain. There were but few houses along here, all of them dark. There was a light at the back of Topaz's house, but no light shone at the front. Nor were any houses near at the rear. There wasn't too much light from the moon—too many clouds drifting overhead—but I could see the wide open space at the rear of the house where Topaz had her garden.

I pushed through a low gate in the white picket fence, closed it softly behind me, then approached the door. I didn't knock too loud, but I guessed she'd been waiting for me, as the door opened almost at once. She stood framed a moment in the doorway, filtered moonlight on her face, and my knees began to shake a little. Lord, I was tense.

Then she stood back, drawing the door wider, saying in Spanish, "Enter your house, Señor ." And there was a nervous little laugh that started my blood coursing hotly. Words wouldn't come. I stepped inside and she closed the door. In a brief glance I caught sight of the kitchen beyond, where an oil lamp burned. Here, where we stood facing each other, it was in semi-gloom. I caught sight of a bed with a white covering at one side, a chest of drawers. I sort of mumbled, "Nice little place you have here…" And then I could resist no longer.

We were standing so close I could hear her soft breath, feel it on my face. If she'd moved back, I'd have kept my head, but she didn't. My arms whipped hungrily around her, drawing her close, and I felt her soft lips under mine. I was sure acting crazy, but I'd gone beyond the point of caring whether this was some sort of frame-up or not.

I felt her arms start to move up about my shoulders, then stop, and her head jerked away. I heard her say with a soft nervous laugh, "You certainly are impulsive, Johnny Cardinal," as she moved back. "Remember, I promised a cup of coffee, nothing more." And then in a steadier voice, "Come on through to the kitchen. This is my bedroom, and I think you'd better come to your senses."

I followed her to the other room, where a fire flamed in an iron stove and a kettle of water was slowly steaming. I glanced around, trying to think of something to say. At one side was a deal table, with a straight-backed wooden chair at either end. The stove was across the room. At the rear was a closed door with a key in the lock, and to the left of the door was a double window, nearly head high. There were curtains at the window, made of some heavy flowered material.

I finally found my voice. "Topaz, I hope you'll accept my apologies. I just sort of lost my head for a moment. I—"

"Maybe I did too," she said shortly. She laughed, but it sounded rather forced. "I'd just hate to think what a fight I'd have on my hands if anybody else in this town had got that far—"

"Including Shel Webster?"

Her face hardened. "Johnny, you ask too many questions." Then she showed her dimples again. "But you're the safe sort, courteous, a regular Sir Walter Raleigh. Bad man? I can't believe it. Why, I'll bet if a lady dropped her handkerchief, you'd hurry to pick it up."

"Why not?"

"Could you really act fast if I dropped my handkerchief?"

"Try me."

Topaz laughed softly. "All right, I'll remember that. You remember it too."

She turned to a small cupboard against the wall near the stove and procured a coffeepot and cups. A sack of coffee appeared next. She sifted coffee into the pot, poured water from the kettle, then set the pot on the stove. "That will take a spell before it's ready," she said, placing cups, saucers and spoons on the table. She added a sack of gingersnaps, then paused, as though suddenly remembering something.

"Now that I've a man to help maybe you can help me," I said sure, and she continued, "I've a mirror I want placed on this wall. Sometimes I eat alone here, and if there's a mirror directly opposite where I sit, I'll feel as though I wasn't quite alone."

She went to the bedroom and came back lugging a Big plate-glass mirror, about five feet long, indicating a place on the inner wall, next to the door to the bedroom, where she wanted it hung. There was a nail already there but when I placed the mirror by its hanging-wire, it wasn't right to suit her. She got a hammer and I yanked out the nail and tried again where she told me to put it. There were a few more tries until we got it right. Then she had me sit at the end of the table, my back to the rear wall of the house. It all sounded sort of crazy to me, but I was at the stage where I'd done anything she asked, even to picking up handkerchiefs in a hurry.