Ralph Compton - Bluff City

They were almost to the stairs. Suddenly a pair of purple-clad underlings appeared out of the throng to bar their way.

“I’m sorry, Marshal,” one said, holding out a hand, “but Mr. Barker left instructions that no one is allowed upstairs without his personal say-so.”

Vale touched his tin star. “Do you see this? It gives me the right to go where I damn well want when I damn well want to. Unless you and your friend want to spend the night in the hoosegow, you will step aside.”

“We can’t do that,” said the other one. “We will lose our jobs if we do.”

Clay stepped out from behind Vale. “With any luck, someone can fetch a sawbones to tend to you before you bleed to death.”

“What?” the second man said.

“What?” his partner echoed.

“I am going to count to three,” Clay told them. “If you are still in our way when I get to three, I am going to shoot you. I will try to wing you, but I can’t make any promises.” He barely paused. “One. Two. Th—”

“Hold on, damn it!” the first one bleated, and the two hastily backed away, their arms out from their sides.

Marshal Vale went up the stairs, two at a stride, saying, “I liked how you handled that. But tell me. Would you really have shot them if they didn’t move?”

“Let’s just say I am glad they didn’t put me to the test,” Clay said.

They reached the first landing. A woman tottered out of a room on the left. Naked from the waist up, she giggled to herself. She did not see them, and went into a room across the hall from the one she came out of.

“I have heard tales about what goes on up here late at night,” Marshal Vale said.

“I’ve seen what goes on,” Wesley Oaks said. “A person can buy anything, and I do mean anything. Barker makes almost as much money off the late-night shenanigans as he does the gambling.”

“That must be a lot of shenanigans,” Clay said.

“Reverend Wilcox would say it was Sodom and Gomorrah all over again,” Wesley observed.

“How does all this help us find Jesse Stark?” Clay asked.

“It doesn’t,” the gambler answered. “But if you start opening doors, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Marshal Vale rubbed his chin. “This floor, you reckon, or higher?”

“That I can’t say,” Wesley answered.

Clay had another question. “How did you know it was Stark? Have you seen him before?”

“Your lady friend described him quite well in the newspaper. That, and someone whispered and pointed and said it was him.”

Marshal Vale moved toward the first door. “Well, I guess there is no getting around it. We will go from room to room. Knock, announce yourself, and open the door quick-like. Close it right away if Stark isn’t there.”

“And hope no one shoots you for disturbing them,” Wesley said.

They began their search. But they had barely checked half the rooms on that floor when a member of the Emporium staff, passing on the landing, saw them, stared in puzzlement a few moments, then took off up the stairs as if his britches were on fire.

“You know where he is going, don’t you?” Wesley Oaks said.

“To tell Barker,” Marshal Vale agreed.

Their prediction was borne out not five minutes later when the Emporium’s owner came marching down the hall with six armed men in purple at his back. He did not give them a chance to explain but tore right into them, snapping, “How dare you barge in on my customers without my consent.”

Marshal Vale had been about to open another door. “I am on official business, and that gives me—”

Barker poked the lawman in the chest. “That badge doesn’t give you the right to make a nuisance of yourself.”

With a visible effort Vale controlled his temper. “I can when I am after a wanted outlaw.”

“Who would that be?” Barker mockingly demanded.

“Jesse Stark.”

“Not him again—” Barker began, and abruptly stopped, shock registering as he noticed Clay. “What the hell? Why is he wearing a badge?”

“Deputies are required to,” Marshal Vale said.

“Deputy?” Barker sputtered. Rage seized him. He was like a steamboat about to burst a boiler. “You can’t just appoint anyone you like.”

“On the contrary,” Marshal Vale said with assumed patience. “I can and I have. There is nothing you can do about it.”

“We shall see about that,” Barker declared. “This won’t do. This won’t do at all.” He moved aside and gestured at the landing. “I want you out of my establishment, and I want you out now.”

“I told you. We are searching for Jesse Stark.”

“Search somewhere else, because he sure as hell is not here. And before you say anything, if you don’t go, I will make your life as miserable as you are making mine. I can, and you know I can. All I have to do is whisper into the ears of a few of the town council and you will be out of a job faster than you can spit.”

“You would obstruct us in the performance of our duty?”

“Don’t you dare try pulling that formal claptrap on me,” Barker said. “Get out, Vale, and get out now.”

“Very well,” the marshal said.

Clay Adams gave a start. “How can you kowtow to this son of a bitch? We’re the law. We can do as we want.”

“Need I remind, you, Deputy Adams,” Vale said, “that as a citizen and not a criminal, Mr. Barker is entitled to a certain respect?”

“Damn right I am,” Barker declared.

“But Stark!” Clay protested.

“Come along quietly, Deputy Adams,” Marshal Vale said. “We have imposed too much on Mr. Barker’s good graces as it is.”

“Now you are talking,” Barker said.

The purple minions parted, and Vale and Clay and Wesley Oaks filed to the landing and down the stairs. As they came to the bottom Clay started to unpin his badge, saying, “If that was your notion of upholding the law, I don’t want any part of it. You have no more sand than a turtle.”

Marshal Vale only grinned. “When I was your age I was just as hasty. But you might want to hold onto your star a while yet. Barker thinks we are slinking off with our tails between our legs, but we’re not.”

“It sure seems like we are to me,” Clay said.

“Patience, son. The one quality a lawman needs more than any other is patience.” Vale stopped and made sure no one was eavesdropping. “There are only two ways in and out of the Emporium: the door at the front and the door at the back. I’ll keep watch from across the street while you go around to the rear. If Jesse Stark is in here, sooner or later he has to leave.”

“What about me, Tom?” Wesley Oaks asked.

“Go back to your cards. I hope Barker doesn’t take it into his head to banish you or some such for helping us.”

“He won’t. I’m a favorite of some of the high-stakes players, and they wouldn’t like it.” The gambler smiled and ambled off.

Clay turned toward the back.

“Not yet,” Marshal Vale said quickly. “Barker is bound to have us watched. We’ll mosey out like good sheep, then sneak back.”

“You sure are a tricky cuss,” Clay said by way of praise as they threaded through the press of humanity.

“I have my moments,” the lawman said. “Our job is as much mental as it is anything. The trick is not to seem too smart, so everyone underestimates you.”

“There is a lot more to you than you let on.”

“Don’t tell anyone. It is supposed to be a secret.”

The night air was bracing. They went two blocks, to where they had left their mounts, and ducked into a doorway. After a while Marshal Vale said, “I reckon no one followed us. Off you go.”

Clay climbed on the claybank. He rode warily, alert for Barker’s underlings. Soon he came to the street that flanked the rear of the Emporium. Unlike the busy thoroughfare out front, it was shrouded in stygian shadow. Which made it easy for him to conceal himself and the claybank in a gap between two buildings. Nearby were barrels filled with refuse. The stink was abominable. He breathed shallowly and hoped he would not have long to wait.