Ralph Compton - Bullet for a Bad Man

Two horses were at the hitch rail. One had a Mexican saddle with more silver than a silverware set.

Wariness crept over the rustlers. Old Man Radler stared at the two horses and put his hand on his six-shooter. ‘‘Porter has visitors.’’

‘‘Just so they are not tin stars,’’ Vance said.

Spurs jangling, swatting dust from their clothes, they filed inside.

Boone and Sassy were the last to go in. He was walking past the two horses at the hitch rail when he abruptly stopped and placed a hand on one of them. ‘‘I’ll be damned.’’

‘‘What is it?’’

Shaking his head, Boone let Sassy go in ahead of him.

Porter was behind the bar. He smiled and greeted them and answered the question in their eyes by nodding at the corner table and saying, ‘‘Those two showed up about four days ago. They say they want to join up with you.’’

‘‘Do tell.’’ Old Man Radler studied the pair. ‘‘They look salty, don’t they?’’

‘‘They are not infants.’’

‘‘Start passing out bottles.’’ Old Man Radler took one, and he and Vance and Skelman moved toward the corner table.

Drub held out a big hand.

‘‘You too? You don’t often drink.’’

‘‘It is not for me.’’ Drub carried the bottle to another table and thrust it out. ‘‘For you.’’

Boone stared at it and then at the gentle giant. ‘‘I thought you were mad at me.’’

‘‘I have stopped. I want to be your friend again.’’ Drub grinned eagerly. ‘‘Please.’’

Accepting the gift, Boone pushed out an empty chair with his foot. ‘‘Join us if you want to.’’

‘‘I do.’’ Drub had to wriggle to fit in the chair. ‘‘I am sorry I was mad for so long. I do that sometimes.’’

‘‘What were you mad about?’’ Sassy asked.

‘‘I wanted him to go to California with me but he wouldn’t. I didn’t figure out why until last night.’’ Drub pointed a finger as big as a railroad spike at her. ‘‘He couldn’t because of you. That’s right, isn’t it, Lightning? That is why you turned me down.’’

‘‘That’s why.’’

Sassy said, ‘‘We could all go together. I have heard it is a wonderful place. Flowers grow all year long.’’ She touched her shirt pocket.

‘‘You would do that? Take me with you?’’ Drub lit like a lantern. ‘‘You wouldn’t mind my company?’’

‘‘Don’t be silly. We will go as soon as your pa sells off the last of the horses and Boone and you get your share of the money.’’

Boone frowned and burst their bubble of delight with ‘‘I have something to do before we can go anywhere.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘I can’t say.’’

Sassy sat back in dismay. ‘‘You are keeping something from me? I thought we agreed. No secrets, ever.’’

‘‘I will tell you when the time is right to say.’’

‘‘Why not do it now?’’ Sassy asked.

Boone gazed across the saloon at where Old Man Radler was talking to the two strangers in the corner. ‘‘It is not you I am keeping the secret from.’’

‘‘I would never tell—’’ Sassy caught herself. ‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘I would never tell either, Lightning,’’ Drub said.

Boone opened the bottle and tilted it to his mouth, then coughed. ‘‘God, this stuff tastes awful. I could never be a drunk.’’

Sassy covered his hand with hers. ‘‘That is fine by me. I have lived with one all my life and I am not hankering to live with another.’’

‘‘I wouldn’t tell,’’ Drub said again.

‘‘I know.’’ Boone slid the bottle toward him. ‘‘But Galeno has ears that can hear a pin drop and he is over at the bar. I will wait for now. Besides, it is personal.’’

Sassy set him straight. ‘‘There is no personal between us.’’

Vance came over and without being asked plopped into an empty chair. He helped himself to a swig and smacked his lips with pleasure. ‘‘See those two men?’’ he said to Drub.

‘‘The Mex and that other one with the scar?’’

‘‘They want to join up with us. The Mex says he has done rustling south of the border and Tinsdale is a curly wolf if ever there was one. Pa wants us to keep an eye on them just the same. He never trusts anyone until they prove they can be trusted.’’

‘‘That Mexican sure likes silver. He has more on his clothes than on his horse.’’

‘‘For you that is a good one, brother.’’

They all looked when Boone’s chair scraped. He stood and loosened his Colt in its holster. ‘‘Stay here,’’ he told Sassy.

‘‘Hold on. Where are you going?’’

Boone smiled at her. ‘‘I hope you will still love me after this. But I have it to do.’’

‘‘What are you talking about? I am confused.’’

Boone regarded Drub a moment. ‘‘If you are my friend again, I have a favor to ask. Keep her at this table. Do not let her get up no matter what. Do you hear me? No matter what.’’

Drub did not ask why. He placed a big hand on Sassy’s wrist, and grinned. ‘‘We are pards again. Don’t you worry. She will stay put.’’

‘‘What the hell?’’ Vance said.

Sassy tried to stand, but Drub pulled her back down. ‘‘Consarn it! Let go of me. What is this? Tell me what you are up to.’’

‘‘Sometimes we don’t see what is right in front of our face,’’ Boone told her. ‘‘I have been so stupid I should shoot myself.’’

‘‘You are making no sense.’’ Sassy struggled, but Drub’s hand was an iron clamp.

Boone stalked toward the corner table. Some of the rustlers noticed, and froze. Old Man Radler and Skelman were talking to the two new men and it was Skelman who saw Boone coming and took a few steps to one side, his brow knit with interest.

‘‘I hope you work out,’’ Old Man Radler was saying. ‘‘I can always use good men. They are hard to come by and harder to keep. None of us live a long life in this trade.’’

‘‘You have,’’ said the man with the scar.

Boone stopped six feet from the table. ‘‘You might want to get out of the way.’’

Old Man Radler glanced over his shoulder. ‘‘Eh? Oh, Lightning. I want you to meet Tinsdale and Rufio. They will be riding with us.’’

‘‘No, they won’t.’’

‘‘Since when do you say who does and who doesn’t?’’ Old Man Radler went to turn, and stopped. ‘‘What is going on here?’’

‘‘This is between them and me.’’ Boone took a half step to his right so he could see the pair clearly.

Rufio pushed his sombrero back on his head. He had a thick mustache and ferret eyes. ‘‘Do we know you, senor?’’

‘‘I am sure he described me.’’

‘‘Who?’’ Tinsdale casually asked. But his scar twitched and his hand eased toward the edge of the table.

‘‘Those are good horses you have.’’

‘‘Our horses, senor?’’

‘‘At the hitch rail. The ones with Circle V brands. Did he give them to you or sell them to you?’’

Tinsdale’s scar would not stop twitching. ‘‘I don’t have any damn idea what you are talking about.’’

‘‘How about you?’’ Boone asked the Mexican. ‘‘Do you want to play dumb too?’’

‘‘I have no need to play dumb, as you call it, so long as I have my pistola, senor.’’

‘‘You are that sure of yourself?’’

‘‘I still breathe, senor.’’

‘‘And the horses?’’

‘‘As you say, they are good animals. Better than the ones we were riding when we went to your rancho. He had many good horses in the corral.’’ Rufio paused. ‘‘I did not think about the brands.’’

‘‘How much is he paying you?’’

‘‘Five hundred. Each. And a good horse.’’