Rattler's Law, Volume One

by James Reasoner

  The first person he noticed there didn’t make him feel any better about von Berndt. Rose Keller was sitting halfway up the tiers of benches, watching the count's performance with rapt attention. Rose probably just wanted to make sure her medical treatment was satisfactory and that the count wasn’t having any trouble using the injured arm. Not that it was any of his damned business, Flint muttered to himself.

  Sitting next to Rose was Sister Lorraine. At the other end of the bench was Alice Hammond, and the space between was filled with the orphans in Sister Lorraine's care. The faces of the children were covered with huge smiles, and Flint thought he had never seen such a happy-looking bunch. Directly behind them sat the Reverend Joshua Markham and Angus MacQuarrie, an unlikely duo but one that would have no trouble keeping order if the children became too rambunctious.

  He strolled around the ring, and a few minutes later, met Cully coming toward him. "Any sign of Cooper?" Flint asked the deputy.

  Cully shook his head. "Nope. No trouble at all, in fact. Everybody seems to be too interested in watching the circus to raise a ruckus."

  "Good. Let's hope it stays that way," Flint said. "We might as well sit down and watch the show ourselves."

  "Sounds good to me."

  Some of the townspeople on the front row were happy to move over and make room when they saw the two lawmen searching for a place to sit. Flint and Cully settled down on the wooden bench, content for the moment to be spectators. Both of them stayed alert for anything unusual, however.

  After a while, the acts began to run together in Flint's mind. He laughed at the clowns who performed between each of the major attractions, was properly impressed by the strong man—who, to Flint's trained eye, looked a little hung over—and applauded with the rest of the crowd as two men juggled razor-sharp knives.

  Although Cully was interested in the other acts, he was clearly impatient for Jemma Richardson to make her appearance. Finally, Professor Houser went to the center of the ring and said through his megaphone, "And now for a special treat, ladies and gentlemen, we have a young woman who is not only lovely...she is also the most deadly shot with any sort of weapon that you will ever see! Yes, my friends, I am speaking of that belle of the plains, that eagle-eyed sharpshooting beauty...Miss Jemma Richardson!"

  Enthusiastically, Cully clapped, then put his fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly as Jemma came riding into the ring on a handsome palomino stallion. The horse reared, pawing the air, and then Jemma urged him into a gallop. As she raced through the course, which had been set up after the previous act, she slipped her Colts from their holsters and fired from horseback, shooting at targets on the stakes that marked her course. While she was entertaining the crowd, several roustabouts worked ropes that were attached to the peak of the tent, opening the canvas and rolling it back like a curtain, so that the entire center overhead was exposed to the sky. This was to ensure that when she fired at targets hurled into the air, the bullets didn’t tear the tent to shreds.

  Like nearly everyone else in the tent, Cully was fascinated by the lovely young woman and could not tear his eyes away from her. Flint, on the other hand, was turning in his seat to glance toward the main entrance of the tent. If Ned Cooper was going to show up, this would be the time for him to cause trouble.

  A sudden flurry of motion near the entrance brought Flint to his feet, but he was too late. A tall figure in flashy range clothes burst into view. One of the roustabouts lunged toward Ned Cooper as the man strode toward the ring. Cooper met him with a solid punch to the jaw, and the roustabout went sprawling. More of the circus laborers started to close in, and a pistol appeared in Cooper's fist.

  Flint dug a sharp elbow into Cully's side, jerking his attention away from Jemma. "It's Cooper!" Flint barked. "Let's go!"

  Cully cursed as he spotted Cooper, and then both lawmen lunged from their seats and vaulted the rail around the ring.

  Cooper was threatening the roustabouts with his pistol, and they had no choice but to fall back and let him pass as he strode into the ring.

  Jemma hadn’t noticed the potential trouble. She had dismounted and started on another portion of her act with the help of the midget called Grady, who was made up as a clown. Grady had several dinner plates in his hand, and at Jemma's signal, he began to toss them into the air, much as he had done with the wooden balls during the afternoon practice session. Jemma had holstered her guns, and now she drew with blinding speed, shattering the plates with her shots.

  The final plate left Grady's hand and spun high into the air, but before Jemma could fire at it, a shot rang out from behind her. She jumped, startled, as the plate exploded into a thousand pieces.

  Jemma turned to see Ned Cooper swaggering toward her, smoke curling from the barrel of his revolver. Behind him, Lucas Flint and Cully Markham were hurrying forward, guns drawn. Although Jemma had never seen Cooper before, she knew from what Cully had said that this stranger had to be him.

  "Howdy, little lady," Cooper said as he came to a halt several yards away. "Sorry if I scared you there. I just thought you might like to see how a real man shoots."

  By now the audience realized that something was wrong, and a tense silence was dropping over the tent. Cooper's words were clearly audible to Flint and Cully as they approached.

  Jemma faced him calmly and said, "You're disrupting my performance. I'd appreciate it if you'd go back and sit down and watch the show."

  Cooper grinned arrogantly. "You would, would you? Well, I can't do that, lady. You see, my name's Ned Cooper, and I aim to prove that there's no way any woman can outshoot me."

  "Come now, Mr. Cooper," Jemma replied. "I'm sure you don't really need to prove that."

  From behind Cooper, Cully said, "He sure as hell doesn't."

  "Drop the gun, Cooper," Flint added. He and Cully stood with their weapons leveled at the young gunman.

  Cooper didn’t turn around. Still grinning, he said, "So, the law dogs are here, eh?"

  Cully's face was dark with anger. When Cooper made no move to put down his pistol, Cully said, "If you really want a shooting match, Cooper, just turn around, and I'll be glad to oblige."

  Before Cooper could reply, Jemma stepped closer and shook her head. "Thank you, Marshal," she said past Cooper. "You, too, Cully. But I'd be obliged if you'd let me handle this."

  "What?" Cully exclaimed. "But this fellow—"

  "Wants a shooting match, as you said," Jemma replied. "I don't mind testing my skills against his."

  Twisting his head to smirk over his shoulder, Cooper said, "That's what the little lady wants, Marshal. You ain't goin' to disappoint her, are you?"

  Flint looked closely at Jemma and saw the confidence in her eyes. With a nod, he holstered his gun and said, "Miss Richardson wants to handle this, Cully. I think we should give her a chance to do just that."

  "Thank you, Marshal." Jemma nodded.

  Cully began to protest, then stopped as Flint motioned him to step away. Keeping his gun drawn, Cully joined Flint, although he kept glancing over his shoulder at Jemma and Cooper.

  "What the hell are we doing, Marshal?" Cully demanded in rasping whisper. "You know Cooper can't be trusted!"

  "I know," Flint agreed. "That's why we're going to stay close by. But I saw Miss Richardson shoot against you this afternoon. I think Cooper is in for a rude surprise."

  Jemma turned to Grady, who was standing nearby with a concerned expression on his painted face. "Fetch the silver dollars," she told him gently.

  Grady grinned and nodded, then hurried over to Jemma's horse. Stretching up on tiptoes, he reached into the saddlebags.

  "Plates are too easy," Jemma told Cooper in a cool voice. "Let's make it more of a challenge, shall we?"

  Cooper still had the cocky grin on his face. "Whatever you say, lady. All I know is, the woman ain't been born who can outshoot me."

  "We'll see," Jemma said.

  Flint saw Professor Horace Houser hurrying into the ring. He met the ringmaster
and stopped him by laying a hand on Houser's arm. "Hold on," Flint said. "Miss Richardson's got everything under control."

  "But...but that ruffian is interrupting her act!" Houser sputtered. "He attacked one of my men!"

  "I saw that." Flint nodded. Glancing toward the tent's entrance, he saw Cooper's two friends there, surrounded by angry roustabouts. The two men were making no threatening moves and were watching Cooper to see if he could make good on his boast. Flint said to Houser, "You'd better make sure your men don't jump Cooper's friends. I don't want a brawl here."

  Staring angrily at Flint for a few seconds, Houser then nodded. "All right," he said, turning to leave. Under his breath, he muttered, "Trouble, always trouble—"

  Grady, ready with the handful of silver dollars, asked, "Who's going first?"

  Jemma glanced at Cooper, who said, "Hell, go ahead. Ladies first, I reckon. Ain't gonna matter, anyway."

  Jemma nodded. "All right, Grady. One at a time."

  The little clown took one of the silver dollars and flung it high into the air. Jemma drew smoothly and fired a split second later, seeming not to aim at all. The coin went spinning wildly to one side. Grady ran to retrieve it, and when he bent to pick it up, he grinned broadly and waved the silver dollar over his head. The crowd could see the bullet hole punched through its center.

  Cooper snorted. "Not bad," he said grudgingly. To Grady, he called, "Hey, little feller! Toss two of 'em up this time."

  Grady looked to Jemma for instructions. She nodded, so Grady took two of the coins in his hand, drew back his arm, and threw them straight up in the air.

  Cooper still had his gun in his hand. He snapped it up, extending his arm, and triggered twice. The look of concentration on his face fell away and became a triumphant grin as he saw both dollars knocked crazily from their course. With a frown, Grady went to pick them up. He glanced at Jemma again, and once more she nodded. Grady raised the coins so the audience could see that both of Cooper's slugs had found their mark.

  Slowly, Jemma took a fresh cartridge from her shell belt and replaced the spent one in her gun. "Six, Grady," she said quietly.

  "Jemma!" the midget yelped.

  Cully looked at Flint, eyes wide. "Shoot, nobody could hit six at a time like that!" he exclaimed.

  Cooper was trying not to look impressed. "Easy to say, lady," he sneered. "Not so easy to do. You sure you even want to try it?"

  Jemma didn’t bother to answer. She turned to Grady with a slight smile tugging at her mouth and said, "Are you ready?"

  Grady swallowed. Holding a stack of six silver dollars in his right hand, he nodded jerkily. "If you're sure, Jemma."

  She settled the Colt in its holster, the smile still on her face. "Now!" she snapped.

  Grady threw the coins, and the gun appeared in Jemma's hand as if by magic. Six blasts rang out as she dropped smoothly to one knee. The silver dollars spun wildly, all of them dropping to the sawdust far apart from each other. Grady jerked his head from side to side, trying to locate them all. He started running from coin to coin, raising each one into plain sight as he found it. The grin on his face got wider and wider.

  "Damn," Cully breathed in awe.

  The silence in the tent deepened with the discovery of each coin. One by one, Grady showed off the dollars, each of them cleanly pierced by a slug. When he lifted the sixth and final coin from the sawdust and the audience saw the hole in it, a thunderous wave of applause and cheering burst out, washing over the arena and the woman standing coolly in its center.

  Ned Cooper's face was red with rage. He stared at Jemma in angry disbelief, and his fingers whitened as his grip on the pistol tightened.

  "I wouldn't even try if I were you, Mr. Cooper," she told him. "That would only make you appear more foolish."

  Cooper spun to face Grady. "You got more of them coins?" he demanded of the little man.

  "You bet," Grady replied. "Six more, in fact."

  "Then throw 'em, you damn dwarf!"

  Grady's features tightened in anger. "Sure," he said. "Glad to oblige, big man."

  Cully looked sideways at Flint. "Marshal...?"

  "Let him try," Flint said. "That's what he wants."

  When Cooper nodded his readiness, Grady threw the silver dollars into the air. Cooper drew and fired, triggering just as fast as Jemma had done, but everyone in the tent knew right away that he had hit only two of the coins. The others fell straight to the sawdust, untouched.

  Again, there was applause, obviously for Jemma. As the cheers of the crowd fell on his ears, Cooper's rage built. He stalked toward Jemma, the empty gun still in his hand.

  "Try to make a fool out of me, will you!"

  "I'd say you did that yourself, Mr. Cooper," she replied quietly. Behind Cooper, Flint and Cully were closing in.

  "That was just trick shootin'!" Cooper ranted. "It don't mean a damn thing! Why don't you put some bullets back in that gun and we'll see who's really better? Just you and me!"

  Jemma's features were still calm, but she had gone pale under his abuse. "Maybe that's what we should do," she snapped.

  Flint stepped up behind Cooper, thumbing back the hammer of his Colt. "No," he said flatly. "There won't be any gunfighting in here. Too many innocent people could get hurt."

  His voice shaking, Cooper said, "We ain't in Abilene now, Flint. You got no say in this!"

  Cully spoke up. "Then I'll take off my badge, and you and I will go outside to settle things, Cooper. How about that?"

  Cooper, his eyes glittering madly, stared at the deputy. "That's twice you've called me out, Markham," he grated. "You and me, we'll settle things, all right, but not now. Not with Mr. High-and-Mighty Marshal here ready to butt in."

  Flint drew a deep breath. "All right, Cooper," he said. "Get the hell out of here." He glanced over and saw that Houser had come up to Jemma to make sure she was all right. "That is, if the professor here doesn't want to press charges against you for disrupting his show."

  Houser shook his head. "I just want the man out of here, Marshal."

  "You heard him, Cooper," Cully said. "Out!"

  Humiliated at every turn, Cooper jammed his empty gun back in its holster. "I'm goin'," he said. "But I won't forget this."

  He stalked out of the arena, past the roustabouts at the entrance. His two companions fell in beside him, and the three of them vanished into the shadows outside the tent.

  Cully bolstered his gun and went over to Jemma. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

  "I'm fine," she replied with a smile. "Cooper's not the first one to pull something like this. Just the worst, maybe."

  "Do you think he'll be back, Marshal?" Houser asked.

  "I reckon there's a good chance he will be," Flint said wearily. "But we'll deal with that when the time comes. Right now, Professor, I'd say you've got the rest of a show to put on before that audience gets restless."

  "Yes, indeed," Houser said with a humorless laugh. "The show, as they say, must go on."

  The evening's performance continued smoothly, and the interruption by Ned Cooper was soon forgotten as the audience was carried away by the glamor and spectacle of the circus.

  Flint was fascinated by the acrobats as they performed on the high wire and the trapeze. He had never been particularly afraid of heights, but a shiver went through him as he watched the aerialists spinning through midair in their bright costumes. At least there were nets underneath to catch them in the event of an accident. It was a shame, Flint thought, that it had taken the falls by Asa Parker and Houser's own wife before that reasonable precaution was taken.

  Finally, the performance came to an end with Professor Houser thanking the crowd and inviting them to return the next evening for more thrills and excitement. "All of our performers will have new tricks to amaze you," he promised. "Now, good night, everyone!"

  The crowd began filing out of the tent through the big main entrance and several smaller openings. The group of children from the orphanage were still wide-ey
ed and chattering and wouldn’t calm down enough to sleep for at least a week, it seemed like. Sister Lorraine, the Reverend Joshua Markham, and Alice Hammond tried to keep them moving in an orderly fashion, but it wasn’t easy. The sideshow attractions were still open outside, and the bright lights drew the interest of the children.

  In addition, many of the animals were being taken back to their cages for the night. Patrick Hammond's eyes grew larger as he saw a couple of elephants being led away.

  Patrick cast a quick glance toward his sister, Alice, who was busy keeping an eye on the other children. So was Sister Lorraine. Joshua Markham had stopped to speak briefly to his brother as Cully and Flint also left the tent.

  This was his chance, and Patrick realized it. He was willing to risk getting in trouble to see the mighty elephants up close. He hung back from the others for a moment, and as soon as the gap increased enough, he darted away, ducking between two parked wagons.

  He had taken three steps in the shadows when he ran into someone. Bouncing back, Patrick lost his balance and sat down hard on the ground. He shook his head and looked up, expecting to get into trouble for plowing into an adult. Instead, he found himself looking at what he took at first glance to be another youngster. "Sorry, kid," Patrick said, climbing to his feet and brushing himself off.

  "Hold on there," the other person said, and it was no child's voice that issued from his throat. "Where are you going in such a hurry, son?"

  Patrick stared, peering intently in the gloom at his companion. He said in shocked recognition, "You're that clown! The one with the lady sharpshooter!"

  Grady grinned. "That's right. I'm a joey. That's what us clowns call ourselves, you know."

  "What happened to your face?" Patrick asked. "You look like...I don't know, a..."

  "A normal person?" Grady asked, still smiling. "Yeah, once the paint is washed off, most of us are. Of course, some of us are a little shorter than others. Say, you didn't tell me why you were in such a hurry."