Ralph Compton Nowhere, TX

by Compton, Ralph

  “You haven’t paid for the last one.”

  Shocked and a little angry, Seth responded, “Since when hasn’t my credit been good enough?”

  “Since you’ve taken to paying your account off later and later.” Lafferty was pencil thin, with bushy eyebrows and a hawkish nose. He was from Illinois and had drifted West after the Civil War and somehow or other ended up in Nowhere. Seth knew little else about him.

  “I’ve always made good, haven’t I?”

  “That was yesterday. We’re talking today.” Lafferty’s nose crinkled. “Yesterday you were dependable. Today you spend a lot of time in Beaver City.”

  “Where I spend my time is none of your damn business,” Seth said angrily.

  “I beg to differ. It is when your behavior reflects on how you pay off your bills. Don’t look at me like that. Your fondness for cards has become common knowledge. So has a rumor that you recently lost big against a professional gambler.” Lafferty uttered a few tsk-tsks.

  Dumbfounded, Seth struggled to collect his wits. “How did you hear about that?”

  “My sources, to quote you, are none of your damn business. Now, are you going to pay what you owe and clear your account, or aren’t you?”

  “I don’t—” Seth clenched his fists. “I don’t have the money at the moment.”

  “When you do I will gladly sell you more supplies. Until then, kindly refrain from gracing my establishment.” Lafferty turned back to his seeds.

  “I really need the oats.”

  “I really need a lot of things but I’m sensible enough and thrifty enough to save for them and not squander my income on frivolous pursuits like poker.” Lafferty sniffed as though he had caught the scent of an offensive odor. “You’d never catch Chick Storm doing anything so reckless. Now there’s a man who knows how to run a ranch.”

  Lafferty would never know how close he came to being shot. Seth was furious. Whirling, he stormed out and tramped along the boardwalk, not knowing where he was going and not really caring. He heard someone call his name but he didn’t answer them.

  Then a tiny bell jangled, and Seth looked up to discover he was at the restaurant. He opened the door and the bell tinkled again. Tim Wilson was in back in the kitchen, cooking. Agnes was cleaning a table.

  “Mr. Jackson! We don’t see you often enough,” she warmly greeted him. “Would you care for some coffee?”

  Svenson was there, devouring a plate heaped with steak and potatoes. He nodded at Seth and indicated an empty chair at his table. “How are things at the Bar J, Mr. Jackson?” He said “things” as if it were “dings”, his accent thick enough to cut with a dull butter knife.

  “Fine. How are things with you?”

  “They could not be better. I have had more business than I know what to do with.” Svenson’s “have” was more like “haf” and his “with” more like “vith.”

  “The new bunch, I gather,” Seth said.

  “Yes. All their horses needed new shoes. And they pay with cash and coins.” Svenson forked a fatty piece of steak into his mouth and hungrily chomped.

  “So like everyone else, you think they’re the greatest thing since spurs were invented?”

  Svenson talked while chomping. “I don’t know about that. Some of them have hard eyes. The one with the shotgun. And the twins who talk funny.” Svenson stopped chewing. “But the worst is the man with the two shiny guns. In my country we say people like him have dead souls and want everyone else dead, too.”

  Agnes Wilson brought a coffeepot and a cup and saucer. “Here you are, Mr. Jackson. It’s fortunate you’ve come when you have. Not fifteen minutes ago we were so busy, I could scarcely catch a breath.”

  Seth poured himself a cup and blew on the steaming coffee to cool it. “You’ve been busier than usual too.”

  “I should say we have. The new people eat and eat. Why, that Mr. Craven and Mr. Shelton are bottomless pits. I’ve never seen grown men down so much at one sitting in all my years.” She grinned. “Except for Mr. Svenson, of course.”

  Svenson guffawed and stuffed half a baked potato into his mouth. “You are a most funny lady, Mrs. Wilson.”

  “I love the way you say ‘funny’ as if it were ‘vunny.’ ” Agnes smiled and left them.

  “Nice lady,” Svenson said.

  “Salt of the earth,” Seth said testily, and drank some coffee.

  “What do you think of the new people?” Svenson inquired.

  “The same as I think of apples.”

  “I am sorry. Apples?”

  Seth set his cup down. “How do you get a mule to go when it doesn’t want to move? You tie an apple to the end of a stick and hold the apple in front of its face.”

  “I do not understand,” Svenson admitted, eating lustily. “If they are the apples, who is the mule?”

  Seth didn’t answer. He finished his coffee in silence, paid and headed for the saloon. Two nearly identical young men with curly mops of hair and boyish grins were on the bench out front. They wore the exact same clothes, down to their short-topped boots. Both had the same model revolver tucked under their belts, and wore the same big knives on their hips.

  “How do, neighbor,” one said. “I’m Jeb Ellsworth.”

  “And I’m Jed Ellsworth,” parroted his twin.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be from the South, would you?” Jeb asked.

  “Texas,” Seth said, passing them.

  “That’s good enough for us,” Jed said.

  The saloon was as busy as before and Dub was pouring drinks nonstop. Jack Shelton sat at the same corner table, the man with the shotgun and the man with the two Remingtons beside him. They rose when Shelton said something to them. “Mr. Jackson! You’re back! Have you made up your mind about my offer?”

  Seth claimed a vacated chair. “How will it work, exactly?”

  “I’ve been doing some askin’ around. I’m told that the northwest part of your ranch has plenty of water but it’s rough country and you don’t use it much.” Shelton bent forward on his elbows. “Once every few months or so my boys will bring a herd in and keep them there. It won’t be for long. Once I sell the cows, you get your cut. How much you get will depend on how much I get.”

  “You said something about four thousand dollars.”

  “I already have a sale lined up. Some of my boys leave tonight to collect the cows. The herd will be a big one. Soon as I’m paid, you get the four thousand.”

  Seth glanced over his shoulder. “And this will be our little secret? No one else will know?”

  Jack Shelton had an oily smile. “It’s to my benefit as much as yours not to say anything.”

  Indecision knifed through Seth, and he hesitated.

  “Look. I’ll be straight with you,” Shelton said. “I like Nowhere. It’s just what I’ve been lookin’ for, and I plan to stick around. The people here will be makin’ a lot more money than they ever did. Why not dip your hand in the pie and come out ahead like everyone else?”

  “What about the Circle C?”

  “What about it?”

  “Chick Storm can’t be bought, broken or sweet-talked. If he learned what I was doing, he’d brand me a rustler and have me hung.”

  “He’ll never find out. And even if he did”—Shelton indicated the man with the Remingtons and the man with the shotgun—“I take care of my friends.”

  “I don’t like talk like that,” Seth said. “The Circle C is a salty outfit. Tangle with them and you’ll know you’ve been in a fight.”

  “I told you before, why spill blood when there’s no need?”

  Seth bowed his head, then looked toward the bar where Dub was grinning and talking to the oldest dove. A man in a floppy hat slapped a dollar on the bar and Dub scooped it up and gave him a bottle.

  “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

  “We have a deal,” Seth Jackson said.

  Chapter Nine

  Billy Braden came out of the saloon with a whiskey bottle in his hand. He
tilted it, gulped the last of the red-eye, then dropped the bottle on the boardwalk and started across the street. He changed direction when he saw Marshal Lunsford coming up the other side. “Well, look who it is. Folks were beginnin’ to think you’d died. It’s been over two weeks since anyone has seen you.”

  The lawman came to a stop and swayed slightly. “What would you know?”

  “Sheath your claws. I’m only being sociable.”

  Marshal Lunsford’s shirt was splotched with stains and the top of a flask poked from his vest pocket. “When I want your company I’ll ask for it.”

  Billy put his hand on his pearl-handled Colt. “You’d better climb down a few rungs, cripple. I don’t take that guff off anyone.”

  “What would your boss say?” Lunsford smirked. “You’re supposed to make nice.”

  “Make nice, yes, but not eat crow. And the boss ain’t here. He and most of the boys had business elsewhere. But I suspect you know that or you wouldn’t be pokin’ your head out of your hole.” Billy looked the marshal up and down and shook his head. “What have you been doing? Suckin’ down coffin varnish and wishin’ you had courage?”

  Lunsford’s lips became thin slits.

  “You know, don’t you?” Billy asked.

  “It’s my job to know.”

  “But you haven’t told anyone. You haven’t called the sheep together and demand we be run out. Why not?”

  Pulling the flask from his pocket, Lunsford uncapped it and took a swig, then replaced it. “They’re good people. I don’t want them hurt.”

  “Is that all? Or could it be you don’t feel up to leadin’ the charge? It was easy to be the law when there wasn’t any lawin’ to do, but now that there is, all that badge is good for is target practice.”

  “I’m still the marshal here and don’t you forget it.” Billy put an arm around the lawman’s stooped shoulders. “Truth is, we like you wearin’ the tin. You’re so useless, it’s the same as havin’ no law at all. So you go on being marshal for as long as you want, you hear?” Laughing, he went into the general store.

  Sally Palmer was behind the counter seated on a stool, reading a book. She heard his spurs and glanced up with a smile but when she saw who it was she frowned and went back to her reading.

  Billy strutted to the counter and leaned on it. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’re not glad to see me.”

  “My folks are over at the restaurant,” Sally said without lifting her eyes from the page. “They’ll be back in an hour. If you have business to conduct, conduct it with them.”

  “That’s not very neighborly of you,” Billy teased. “And I know where they are. I was watchin’ and waitin’ so I could talk to you alone.”

  “Why do you keep doing this?”

  “Why do you think?” Billy plunged his hand into a jar and helped himself to a gumdrop.

  Lightning danced about Sally’s blond head. “You’re despicable. Day after day you come in here and bother me, and day after day I tell you to leave me be.”

  “When I want something I generally don’t back down until I have it.” Billy hopped up on the counter and leaned toward her. “Goodness, you smell nice. Better than Belle and all those others ever could.”

  “I’ll thank you not to mention me in the same breath as those hussies.” Sally slammed her book shut, slid off the stool, and came around the counter. “I want you out of here. I want you out now. Or so help me, I’ll scream.”

  Billy sucked on the gumdrop, making a slurping noise. “And then what? Your pa would come runnin’ and get all mad and maybe try to throw me out and I’d have to unravel some cartridges.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Sally exclaimed.

  “Not unless you force me, no.” Billy opened his mouth and showed her the gumdrop on the tip of his tongue, then closed it and grinned. “I wish this candy was you.”

  Flushing, Sally raised the book as if to hit him with it. “You are the lowest of the low! How you think I could ever be interested in someone who treats me so poorly is beyond me.”

  “Poorly?” Billy slid off the counter. “I just paid you the highest compliment a man can pay a female and you’re ready to bean me?”

  “You call that a compliment? Decent ladies don’t like having tongues wriggled in their faces.”

  Folding his arms, Billy smiled his most dazzling smile. “I’m sorry. I admit I don’t have a lot of experience with ladies of your caliber. But all I wanted was to make you grin.”

  “Just go.”

  “Have you ever seen a waterfall?” Billy asked her.

  “What?”

  “I did once, up in the mountains. Hundreds of feet high, it was. The water tumblin’ and sparklin’ and as beautiful as anything that ever was until I set eyes on you.” Billy paused. “How can you blame me for comin’ back every day to talk to the loveliest girl in this territory or any other?”

  “Now you’re poking fun,” Sally said. She had lowered the book and was holding it close to her bosom.

  “Look at me. At my face. At my eyes. I’ve never been more serious since I was in diapers.” Billy reached out and touched her fingers. “The day I first set eyes on you, you took my breath away. And you’ve been takin’ it away every day since.”

  “I’ve told you before. I’m spoken for.”

  “By that Circle C puncher? How much can he care for you if he keeps comin’ around month after month and doesn’t do more than hold your hand and eat your ma’s cookin’?”

  “I won’t stand for you insultin’ Randy. He’s the nicest boy I’ve ever met.” Her back as stiff as an ironing board, Sally returned to the other side of the counter and reclaimed her stool.

  “There’s the problem right there. He’s a boy when what you need is a man.”

  “I suppose you qualify?”

  “Why not? I’d never let a pretty girl like you go to waste. Why, if you favored me like you’re favorin’ him, I wouldn’t let a day go by that I wasn’t over here baskin’ in your beauty. Which is more than can be said about your puncher. How often does he make it in? Once a month?”

  Sally opened her book. “I will never favor you.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with me? I’ve got all my teeth.” Billy flashed his smile. “I take baths regular, and I splash on some smell-good every time I come over.”

  “I told you. It’s your manners. You look just fine.”

  “Do I, now?” Billy chuckled. “Then there’s hope yet.”

  “There is not. I was being polite. Now go away. I’m reading.”

  “What is that book you’re holdin’ upside down, anyhow?”

  Sally looked, and blushed, and reversed the book so she was holding it correctly. “You get me so flustered, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Another good sign,” Billy declared. “My pa always said when a girl is flustered it’s a sign she’s interested.”

  “I can’t imagine you having a father,” Sally jousted. “I figured you hatched from an egg like most lizards.”

  Billy laughed and slapped his thigh. “Dang, girl. You’re good. But you’re right. I did hatch from an egg. That’s why I shed my skin once a month.”

  A grin blossomed on Sally’s face but she immediately wiped it off. “There’s a sight folks would pay to see. You could join a circus and be famous.”

  “How would you like to go for a stroll with me later? Say, about sunset?”

  “And how would you like to jump off the tallest building in town, headfirst?”

  “What, and put a hole in the street?” Billy shook his head. “The marshal might arrest me for my head makin’ a nuisance of itself.”

  Again Sally grinned. Again she fought it. “I’ll say one thing for you. It’s hard to stay mad at a man with a velvet tongue.”

  “You noticed when I showed you that gumdrop, did you?” Billy opened his mouth again. The gumdrop was almost gone.

  “You’re hopeless,” Sally said, and bent to her book.

  Billy scrun
ched up his face, then tapped the counter. “What’s this you’re so all-fired interested in, anyhow?”

  “Ben-Hur by Lew Wallace.”

  “That’s a peculiar name. What’s it about? Horses and such?”

  Sally tittered. “No. It’s about a man who becomes a slave back in Roman times after a great injustice is done him.”

  “Romans?” Billy thoughtfully stroked his chin. “Weren’t they the ones who went around in dresses and rode in big wooden horses?”

  “You’re thinking of the Greeks.” Sally set him straight. “The Romans wore togas and were famous for their laws and their roads. Didn’t you study them in school?”

  “I never went.”

  “Not once your whole life? What sort of parents did you have that they didn’t see to your education?”

  “My folks died when I was young,” Billy revealed. “I’ve been on my own ever since. Anything I know, I’ve picked up from others. That Greek business I heard from an old codger who always carried around a book called the”—Billy’s brow furrowed in concentration—“The Iliad! That’s what it was.”

  “I read that years ago,” Sally said. “Along with The Odyssey.” She paused. “Do you read and write?”

  Billy sheepishly stuck his hands in his pockets. “I can scribble my handle when I have to, and I can wrestle with a menu pretty fair. But I ain’t never read a book all the way through, if that’s what you’re gettin’ at.”

  “Have you ever wanted to?”

  “When I was younger, sure. I’d see other kids readin’ and see the Police Gazette in the barbershop and I’d get a hankerin’ to practice readin’ until I got good at it.” Billy shrugged. “But nothin’ ever came of it.”

  “Why not?” Sally asked.

  “Life.”

  A minute went by, with Sally reading and Billy waiting, and then she said, “I could help you if you wanted. To read, I mean. Since you already know the basics, you would pick it up in no time.”

  “That’s the kindest offer anyone ever made me.”

  “Don’t make more of it than it is. We’ll do it on my terms, and if you so much as give me a lick of trouble, I’ll stop.”