Ed Gorman - Showdown

She smiled. "I couldn't ask for better than that."

"I'm getting cold," Cassie said.

Prine had moved away from her, perched himself on a small boulder near the timber. He rolled himself a cigarette.

"Aren't you going to say anything, Tom?"

"What am I supposed to say?"

"That you understand. That you don't think I'm just a foolish little rich girl. That you don't hate me. The only reason I did this was so that my brother would notice me. Maybe value me a little. I didn't do this for selfish reasons."

He got his cigarette going and thought for a moment. There was no sense hurting her feelings. She was doing a good job of that herself. She was trying to justify a stupid, reckless act and having a hard time doing it.

The romance of her was gone. When he looked at her there in the moonlight, she didn't even look so pretty anymore. Just dirt-smeared and sort of pathetic. No allure at all in standing near an outhouse that had been turned on its side and an ancient wagon with only three wheels.

"You wanted Richard's attention," he said. "You got it. And I feel sorry for him. He damned near came undone this afternoon. Judging by what I saw today, I'd say he loves you a lot more than you think he does."

She walked up and down to keep warm. "You're seeing it from the outside. You're not seeing how he orders me around and never takes me seriously and makes up these stupid rules. I'm an adult, and he doesn't seem to understand that. I just wanted to teach him a lesson, scare him a little. Maybe he'll appreciate me now."

He couldn't resist. "Do you have any idea how much turmoil you've caused today? How worried people are? I don't think an adult would do anything like that."

"Oh, fine, now you sound just like Richard. So high and mighty all the time. Why don't you just leave?"

"Not without you."

"Well, for your information, I'm not going anywhere. Tolan and Rooney are coming back. They're my partners in this, remember?"

"How'd you meet those two, anyway?"

"Tolan came to the church basement one afternoon. He was looking for a winter coat. I'd had this idea for some time. I think he has a little crush on me. He kept coming back. One day I told him about the idea. We're friends, sort of."

"Some friends, Cassie. These are dangerous men. Ruthless."

"They haven't hurt me, have they?"

He flipped his cigarette into the darkness, watched as it struck a tree, disintegrated into a dozen stars. "You're coming back with me. Now."

"You're not my boss."

"Looks like somebody needs to be." He sounded, and felt, disgusted. He was tired of her whining, tired of her dramatics. "Let's get going."

The Colt came from the front of her butternuts. Tucked behind her blouse. "Head back to town, Tom. Now. You keep my secret and I'll see that you get the reward. That's more than somebody like you'll see in the next thirty years if you're lucky."

The scorn for workingmen was clear in her "somebody like you" remark. He'd been around rich people enough to know that many of them divided the world into two groups—peers and everybody else. And "everybody else" fell into the category of servants. Even if you weren't in livery, they used you anyway. Sometimes they paid you; other times they forced you to do it free. But one way or the other, you did their bidding. And sometimes you didn't even know about it.

"I need you to drop your Colt and your Winchester, Tom."

"Do you know what the hell you're doing?"

"I know exactly what I'm doing. I don't want you coming back here threatening Tolan and Rooney. They just went to have a few beers. But they'll be here soon. I've got my cash payment ready for them. I don't want anything to go wrong here. So I'm taking your guns. You head back and sit on the outskirts of town. I'll meet you there. I've got a horse in the barn over there. Then we can ride into town together and I'll tell everybody you rescued me."

He hadn't complied with her request for his guns. She reminded him of this by stepping close to him and bringing the barrel of the Colt down hard across his cheek. She was capable of much more force than he realized.

"Your guns, Tom."

He would've fought back, but what was the point? As much as he despised her now, he despised himself even more. Going against all his principles to make it appear that he'd "rescued" her so that he could get the reward and maybe her hand. He was just as foolish, just as selfish, just as mercenary as she was. A good lawman would've broken up the "kidnapping" before it happened.

The sharp wind was beginning to freeze his nose and give him an earache. He just wanted away from here, away from her. If only he could get away from himself, too.

"Don't bother with the reward," he said. "Just ride back to town and tell everybody you got yourself free."

"I'm going to pretend I don't know who kidnapped me. I want you to go along with that, too." An ironic smile. "I'm a lot smarter than you thought, aren't I?"

"Not smarter," he said. "Just more foolish. And I'm even more foolish than you are."

He dropped Winchester and Colt on the ground. "I want my guns back. You know where I live."

"You'll have them tonight."

He climbed up on his horse, weary, addled, sorrowful. Not until now did he realize his true nature. He was a con, a grifter, just like so many of the men he'd arrested over the years.

He swung his horse westward and, without saying anything, headed back to town.

Chapter Eleven

Prine spent a mostly sleepless night. He realized that while he'd always been a law-abiding man, he'd never been a good one.

All it took was the temptation of a reward and he forgot everything he supposedly knew about morality.

Cassie no longer mattered to him. She had her own life. He wouldn't tell anybody anything about the kidnapping—not for her sake but for his. If Sheriff Daly ever found out what he'd done, he'd fire Prine for sure. And let every lawman he knew know just how much a risk Prine was as a lawman.

He didn't delude himself. Part of his shame was his anxiety over being found out. Cassie could always say the wrong thing. Richard could start taking a closer look at the entire incident and begin to expose it. Tolan and Rooney could ask for more money to be silent—and where would something like that end?

Dawn found Prine in a wooden chair, a big gray tomcat in his lap, watching Claybank begin, groggy and reluctant, to awaken.

He shaved, washed up, dressed, and headed for The Friendly Café. He felt ridiculously happy to see Lucy.

She brought him his first cup of coffee.

"You didn't get much sleep last night, did you?"

"Not much."

She leaned in so she could whisper.

"And you didn't tell me the truth about what was going on out at that farmhouse, did you?"

He stared at his coffee cup.

"Are you in trouble, Tom? D'you need to get out of town? I've got a few dollars put by. . . ." He touched her hand.

"Did I ever tell you how sweet you are, Lucy?"

"Not for a long time."

"Well, I'm telling you now. And I'm going to tell you every single day from now on."

She did something she'd never done before—knew she shouldn't have done. She sat down at his table. Serving women were never supposed to sit with customers while on duty.

"You're in trouble, Tom. And I'm afraid for you. But that's not a reason to come back to me. You know I love you. But right now's not a good time to try and make up. You have to be a man and face up to whatever you've done."

He laughed. "You sound like one of the nuns at Catholic school. Be a man and face up to whatever you've done. They told me that the day I broke the school window with a baseball. They couldn't figure out who'd done it. So they held up class until the guilty party confessed."