William MacDonald - Shoot Him On Sight

I said cheerfully, "Morning, gents."

They both frowned at me. Webster said, "Give him a drink, Turk. On me. He may not have another chance."

I didn't like the sound of that, but I laughed and told Turk, "Beer—not warm, and not frozen." Turk moved down the bar.

Webster scowled. "What you doing in town, Cardinal?"

I appeared surprised. "Came in for the obsequies, of course. Tried to buy flowers, but—"

"What obsequies you talking about?"

"Are we not about to say a fond farewell to our dear departed brother—Hondo Crowell?"

Webster looked disgusted. "Of all the buffalo-chips I ever heard! Pretty damn cocky, aren't you, Cardinal?"

I laughed in his face. "That's my natural act, Shel. Don't tell me you're not going to have proper services for your murderin' jackal."

Webster swore. "There's a dump heap out beyond town. I give orders to have him planted there."

"Seems right appropriate," I nodded. Turk brought my bottle of beer and a glass. It was just right. I wiped foam from my lips. "Actually, I rode in to see if there was any mail for the Box-CT. There wasn't. So now I'll be riding back."

"You staying out there?"

"I slept there last night."

"What's back of it?"

"Hell, do you have to ask? Didn't I tell you I was going to get acquainted with Tawney? Anything wrong in that? You know what we talked about."

He frowned uncertainly. "Look here, Cardinal, I've decided to raise my price to seven-fifty—"

"My price is a thousand, as I told you."

"Seven-fifty, and that only on condition Tawney is rubbed out within the next two-three days."

I put down my glass, turned and started off.

Shelby rasped, "Where you going?"

I paused. "I can't waste more time discussing chicken-feed with a cheap-jack."

"Come back a minute," he scowled.

I returned to the bar. Finished off my beer, then, "What's on your mind?"

"Cardinal," he stated venomously, "I think you've stalled long enough. I'm beginning to think you're all bluff—"

"You're just thinking that—you're not sure," I said brazenly, though my heart started to beat faster. Maybe this was that showdown I'd been thinking of. "You'd like to hire my gun, but you're not sure where I stand, whether you can trust me to keep my mouth shut. Isn't that it?"

He looked a bit startled and I knew I'd hit the target.

"We-ell," he started uncertainly. "I—"

"Meanwhile," I cut in, "you go on putting your trust in a bunch of lunkheads, as you called them. Now, I ask you, is that good sense?"

"I use the material at hand," he growled. "I'm not sure but what if you're one of the same lunkheads. I was a fool to trust you—"

"Of course you were," I laughed. "This is a town of lunkheads, and I'm not making any exceptions."

A flush rose to his cheeks, then he forced a thin smile, in an attempt to be affable and prolong the conversation. "Now look," he protested, "there's no use you and me making war-talk. But confess, you're not as fast with your gun as you claim. Sure, you got Hondo Crowell last night, but you say there were two others. A fast man would have had all three."

"With the start they had?" I guffawed. "Hell, Webster, I'm the only gun-slinger in town who could've got one of those skunks."

He stiffened. "I'm not so sure of that," he muttered.

"Want to try proving it?" I sneered.

"How? What do you mean?"

"Get out that hide-out gun of yours, and we'll go to work." I started to back off a step. So there it was—a challenge. I waited, tense, for him to make a move, while my knees were practically knocking together. But he wasn't up to it. He shook his head, trying to speak words that wouldn't come, and placed both hands on the bar in front of him. I could almost hear the sudden silence from the other men at the bar behind us.

Finally he drew a long breath of suppressed anger. "Now, look, Cardinal, there's no use you and me—"

"Now, who's been running a bluff?" I jeered.

"Cut out that bluff talk," he snarled. "Can't you realize it's more profitable for both of us, if we pull together?"

"Sure, but you can't seem to." I was relaxed, feeling good again, and I decided to bait the animal a little more. "Where's Topaz this morning?"

For a moment his face went fiery red, then he regained control. " Miss Topaz, to you," he growled nastily. "And her whereabouts is no business of yours."

"Don't get proddy with me," I said mildly. "I was only interested after what happened last night. Isn't that natural? You act like I was trying to beat your time. Why so huffy?"

He simmered down after a moment. "I just don't like fellers getting too familiar with Topaz. For your information, she won't be in today. Sent a message just a minute before you come in. She's still pretty well shook up, after that experience last night. Has a bad headache and said her nerves were shot. Can't say I blame her. One of those damn fool lunkheads might have hit her."

"That's possible," I nodded seriously. "Hadn't thought of that. Give her my sympathy when you see her. By the way, did you discover who the other two lunkheads were?"

He shook his head. "Not yet, but I've got men working on it. They'll get turned up." He shot the next question fast, almost catching me off guard. "Where's that Mexican, Serrano, this morning?"

" Mister Serrano," I laughed and he got the point. "He's here, only you probably won't get to see him. As a bodyguard, he can't be beat, can Fanner. I feel safe with him around to see I don't get shot in the back. Or spied on. I don't like my actions watched." He didn't have a reply for that. I said, "Well, I'd best get back to the Box-CT. Maybe we can talk another time, Shel."

"Yeah, maybe so," he agreed absently.

I nodded and left the barroom. On the street I walked aimlessly about for a time, then headed down toward the railroad station. The horses were there, but no sign of Topaz. Well, it wasn't quite noon yet. And then, suddenly, my heart gave a jump that almost carried it into my mouth, and I realized it wasn't only fight talk that made my heart beat so fast. She was coming at a fast walk with long even strides. Riding boots, divided skirt, mannish flannel shirt and the glorious red-gold hair tucked beneath a cream-colored sombrero. Beautiful! I hadn't felt this way since I was a kid, gazing up at the top ornament on the Christmas tree. I hurried to meet her and tell her how wonderful she looked.

That, she disregarded. "Johnny," she said soberly, "there'll be hell to pay if this gets found out."

Her hand was still in mine and I was ready to pay any price that happened to become due. After a moment she released her hand, and we neared the horses. She didn't need any help mounting, and I saw at once she was a rider. I adjusted the stirrup straps, then mounted, with me carrying the basket, and turned out horses. I'd been hoping the station-master wouldn't pop out of his door to get nosy, but he didn't show. Hoof beats in the vicinity of his station weren't noticeable to him, I suppose.

"Johnny, where are we going?"

"Figured we might head over toward the Doladera foothills." I gestured toward the basket. "I brought some fodder."

"That was a good idea." She didn't say anything for a time, until we were well clear of the town, though I'd noticed her cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder from time to time. Finally she said, "This is a dandy pony. Yours or did you hire it?"

"It's half mine."

"Half?"

"It's branded Box-CT. Half the outfit belongs to me." Hell, I had to boast a mite.

"It does?" Her eyes widened under the cream sombrero.

"That's not news for the world, yet," I told her. "I'll explain some other time." I tried to press further talk, but she didn't appear to want any. We loped easily along with the bright blue sky overhead, and a cool breeze whipping into our faces. Lord, I felt proud to have her riding at my side and I felt as though I could go on and on, without ever stopping.