William Johnstone - A Good Day to Die

“Much obliged,” Luke said, making his way to the convenience.

Johnny sipped some beer. Holding the mug up, he gazed at the wash of foamy suds sliding down the inside of the glass. From behind came soft footfalls, the rustle of a long skirt and petticoats. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Francine Hayes coming out of a back room.

She went to the bar and spoke softly to Morrissey. Reaching under the bar, he set an unopened bottle of whiskey on the countertop. He put two glasses down beside it. Francine picked up the bottle and glasses and started toward Johnny.

Johnny eyed her admiringly without getting overheated about it. She was a good-looking gal, a real beauty. Champagne-colored hair, blueberry eyes, a ripe red mouth that turned up at the corners. A dress of some shiny, satiny material hugged her slim, well-formed body. It was a pleasure just to watch her move.

Francine stood at the table, smiling. “Buy you a drink, cowboy?”

“That’s a switch. Usually it’s the fellow who buys a gal a drink,” Johnny said.

“It’s an unusual day.”

“And it ain’t hardly even got rolling yet.”

“Compliments of the house,” she said, brandishing the bottle.

Johnny rose, indicating an empty chair. “Please.”

“Thank you.” Francine set the bottle and glasses down on the table.

Johnny held the back of the chair, pushing it toward the table after she sat down. He tasted her perfume in his nostrils, light and elusive, yet making his senses tingle.

“You’re a gentleman, sir.”

“Shoot, all us Texas boys is gentlemen.”

She cut him a sceptical side glance, a wry twist to her lips. “Not all.”

“Maybe not,” he allowed as he sat down, turning his chair to face her.

Indicating the bottle, Francine said. “If you would be so kind ...”

“Glad to.” He broke the seal and uncorked the bottle, loosing the rich, dark scent of prime Kentucky bourbon. It smelled almost as heady as her perfume. Almost, but not quite. He filled a shot glass, setting it down before her. “No water for a chaser?”

“Why, do you need one?” she countered.

“I was thinking of you.”

“I take it straight. Especially today.”

“Can’t say as I blame you.” Johhny filled the other glass, raising it.

Francine raised her glass. “Here’s luck.”

“Mud in your eye,” Johnny said.

They drank. She tossed hers back in a gulp, drinking it down, shuddering a little. Color came into her cheeks, some of the tautness leaving her face.

“Good.” Johnny smacked his lips.

“Have another,” Francine invited.

“Why not?” He refilled their glasses.

She sipped hers. Johnny slowed down, too.

She studied his face, thoughtful. “I know you.”

His eyebrows rose. “I’d remember if we ever met before. I never get that drunk.”

“I mean, I know who you are. You’ve been in here before. You and your friend were pointed out to me.”

He’d forgotten about Luke. Where was he? Looking up, he saw his buddy standing at the bar, chatting with Morrissey. Catching Johnny’s eye, Luke winked at him behind Francine where she couldn’t see him. Johnny grinned to himself. Luke had nice timing. He knew when not to show up. Now that was a friend.

“You’re John Cross, the gunfighter,” Francine said.

Johnny smiled, shaking his head. “I’m Johnny Cross, the mustanger. I catch and sell wild horses for a living.”

“Why be coy? I’ve seen what you can do with a gun.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You’re very good.”

“You’re pretty good yourself, Miss Hayes.”

“It’s Francine ... John.”

“Call me Johnny, Francine.”

“All right, Johnny. How is it we never met before?”

“Luke and I are kind of busy out at the ranch. We don’t get into town much. You’re new here.”

She nodded. “I’ve only been at the Spur for a few weeks. Long enough to get into trouble, though.”

“No shortage of that in Hangtown. Is it too late for you to clear out?”

“Is that polite? Trying to get rid of me when you hardly know me. Usually it takes longer than that for someone to tire of me,” Francine said, pouting.

“What am I saying? I must be drunk.”

“And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

“You must be drunk.”

“Not yet.”

“I meant that the party is liable to get rough when the Ramrod crowd rides in,” Johnny explained.

“I’ve got nowhere to go. Why are you sticking?”

Johnny shrugged. “Maybe I don’t like to see a pretty gal get pushed around.”

“I was hoping that was the reason,” Francine said huskily, gifting him with a full-force smile he could feel clear down to his toes.

“Or maybe I’m just an ornery critter that likes to fight,” he added.

“That I believe!” she said, laughing. “You like me, Johnny?”

“Sure, what’s not to like?”

“I know you do. I can tell. I like you, too. But watch out.”

“Why?”

“I’m dangerous.”

“All women are dangerous.”

Francine’s smile faded, the corners of her mouth turning down as she got serious. “I mean it. Look at Bliss Stafford. He got killed because of me.”

“Don’t talk dumb,” Johnny said, frowning, his yellow cat eyes glinting. “I saw it. Stafford got hisself killed because he was a damned fool, a troublemaker who thought he was fast with a gun. He picked a fight with someone who was faster. That’s all.”

“You knew him?” Francine asked.

“Hell, no.”

“You described him pretty well.”

“I know the type. There’s some like him in every saloon from here to the Mississippi. Too many. Seems I happen to meet more than my share, and they all want to fight me.”

Francine showed a quirked smile. “Bliss. Bliss! Was ever anyone so misnamed? All he ever brought was heartache and trouble. He was a swine who thought he was God’s gift to women. The harder I tried to discourage him, the more he wanted me. He kept after me, wouldn’t let me be.”

“No need to explain. What’s done is done.”

“I want you to understand.” Francine put her hand on his, squeezing it. “I like you, Johnny. I like you a lot.”

She let go of his hand. “His brother Clay came to see me a couple times. I suppose you heard about that?” Francine asked, studying his face.

“No.” he said, though in truth he had heard a few comments along those lines earlier.

“Clay Stafford offered me money to leave his kid brother alone and go away. As if that would have done any good! I’d have gone away for free if I hadn’t known Bliss would follow me wherever I went. I begged Clay to ride herd on Bliss and keep him out of my life. He couldn’t stop him. Not even Vince Stafford himself could hold Bliss in line. At least here I knew that Damon would protect me.”

“Bliss ain’t gonna bother you no more, Francine.”

“No. But his father and brothers will come for my scalp.”

“They ain’t gonna bother you. Not while I’m around ... and I’ll be around.” Johnny’s youthful face was set in hard lines, his eyes bright and cold. None could doubt that he meant business and when he was in that mood few would dare to balk him.

“Thanks, Johnny. You’re sweet.” Francine blinked back tears. Leaning forward, she rested her slim, long-fingered hands on his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. Her long, white-blond hair brushed his face.

“I better go before I make a fool of myself by crying my head off.” She rose from her chair and crossed to the staircase. Climbing to the second floor, she walked along the mezzanine and into her room, closing the door behind her.

Luke returned to the table. “What happened, hoss? Looked like you and that little gal was getting along nicely, then up she jumps and runs away.”