by Paul Henke
‘I’m sure going to enjoy this,’ said Sonny.
We went downstairs. I wished I had the same feeling.
23
I tried to settle down to work but found it impossible. I hoped Roybal would turn up soon and we could clear the air and get it all over with. Finally I gave up and threw down a half completed stock list in disgust. For some time, I sat and thought of how far we had come in such a short period. A lot had happened and a lot more was going to happen. Provided we survived the day. We? No, that was wrong. Evan was the driving force and Meg the main support. Without either of them, there was no future. I hoped Evan knew what he was doing. I went down below to the stove and got myself a cup of coffee from the staff room.
It was late afternoon when we received the message. I stood by the door to Evan’s office, Evan sat behind his desk. John sat on an upright chair against the wall, his right hand out of sight by his side. From where I stood I could see the main door. The minutes dragged by. More than once I thought I saw somebody outside but then I realised it was my eyes playing tricks. I decided if we got through the day all right I was going to an optician. I thought I saw something and screwed my eyes up to see better. I was not mistaken: some men had just entered. They went behind a high centre rack of shelves and were approaching the steps next time I saw them. I spoke quietly to John and Evan.
‘I don’t know for sure, but I guess this is it. There’s three of them. The one in front is about fifty, well built and about as tall as you, Evan. The two behind are both wearing guns tied low on their legs. I guess it’s like Sonny said. They’re his gunslingers and mean looking swine.’ I trailed off as they reached the top of the stairs and marched into the office. The front man’s eyes swept past John and me and rested on Evan.
‘You Griffiths?’ he asked with a growl.
‘Yes, I am,’ said Evan, smiling politely, standing and coming round his desk, his hand outstretched, a smile on his face. ‘And who are you, sir?’ Evan asked, taking the man’s hand, even though it hadn’t been offered. Roybal was so surprised he allowed Evan to sit him in a chair placed directly in front of his desk. The thumb of Evan’s right hand was casually hooked into his belt close to where I knew the butt of his gun lay. It had all happened smoothly and quickly.
Roybal came to his wits and lurched to his feet. ‘Cut out this horseshit,’ he leaned on the desk, his face a foot or so from Evan’s.
‘I’ve come here to give you the same hiding you gave my son. Now get on your feet before I drag you across your desk.’
Evan sat still and looked calmly at the enraged face before him. Roybal had worked himself into such a state that his face was mottled red.
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Evan asked softly.
‘Huh? It was you, wasn’t it, that beat up my son last night?’
‘Are you talking about that drunk who tried to . . .’ before Evan got any further Roybal, with a snarl of range went to draw his gun. His two men behind him were doing the same thing when Evan’s voice came across like a whiplash. ‘Don’t.’ As he said it he pulled out the sawn off shotgun from beneath his desk. ‘Now look behind you and to the side.’
In the doorway and lined up along the glass partition were five of our men, each pointing rifles into the office. John had lifted his gun from besides his chair and I now pulled mine from its holster.
‘If you make a move of any description you’ll be dead,’ Evan’s quiet voice was like ice, his face carved from wood. ‘Now tell me exactly why you’ve come here.’
‘For you, for what you did to my son. You’re making a bad mistake, Griffiths. I’m not a man to cross easily. One of the hands I left at the door will see the guns and go for the rest of my men.’
‘Sonny?’ Evan kept his eyes on Roybal.
‘Just like you said Mr Griffiths. Mac and Frank got their rifles right up the man’s nose now. In fact, I’d say Frank is just itching to pull the trigger.’
‘Did you suggest that you’re not a man to cross easily, Roybal? If I were you, I’d think twice about issuing stupid threats. At the moment your chances of leaving alive are looking pretty thin. Now, nice and easy, drop your gun. Sonny, get the guns. Now sit in that chair, Roybal . . . Good. Is your son a man or a mouse that his father has to come to fight his battles?’
‘He’s little more than a boy. He told me how he come to your place and asked all polite like to see his girl and how you got the drop on him and then gave him a hiding. With,’ Roybal spat the words at Evan, ‘two of them no good German farmers holding onto him. Well, today I’ve come to even that score and this time nobody will be holding my hands.’ The man was trembling and in such a rage he seemed oblivious to our guns.
‘Mr Roybal, it will be with delight that you and I shall meet outside and I shall enjoy teaching you some manners. You are nothing but a common, loutish bully. Your son rode up to my place last night while my guests and I were enjoying my party and tried to force an entrance. He was drunk and abusive. It was only by luck on my part that he didn’t shoot me. I was unarmed at the time. After disarming him,’ the contempt in Evan’s voice was as thick as butter, ‘I threw him into my horse trough. At that point he threatened my children. I have two boys aged ten and twelve, Mr Roybal,’ while Evan spoke the anger was draining from Roybal at about the same rate as the blood from his face, which by now was chalk white.
‘I don’t take kindly to threats against them. Mr Buchanan here saved your son from the biggest hiding of his life.’ Evan took a deep breath, and went on. ‘At the moment I am seriously considering pressing charges against him for assault, disturbing the peace and attempted murder. I have enough witnesses to prove what I have just told you and there’s more than a good chance he’d be convicted. Can you imagine what five years in the state penitentiary will do to him? I can.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said the man but with no conviction. ‘I don’t believe you. My son wouldn’t lie to me.’
‘From what I’ve heard about your son he’d do a lot worse than that. He’s a no good . . .’ Evan stopped. ‘I have no need to tell you what he’s like, do I? Because you already know. Let me tell you something else. I am also tempted right this minute to send for the Marshal and have him arrest you for threatening me.’
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ said Roybal heatedly. ‘I’d close this place in a month if you tried something like that. You’ll learn out here, Griffiths, that men don’t run to the law, they settle their problems themselves.’
‘Oh, I’ve noticed,’ said Evan. ‘Which is why until you stop acting like children and use your laws you’ll be a second rate country.’ Evan pulled back the two hammers on the shotgun. The slightest pressure on his finger would blow Roybal to Kingdom come.
Nobody moved a muscle. The tension in the silence reached breaking point. Roybal knew death was close and was sweating profusely. He was the first to break the silence.
‘What do you want?’ he croaked.
‘Nothing. You and I are going downstairs and out to the back where I am going to give you the hiding of your life. When you return home I suggest you do something similar to your son, before it’s too late. Though I suspect it is already. The reason I’m going to do this Roybal is so you’ll realise that I am not a man to be trifled with. I don’t trust you not to leave here, get your men and return. I think you’re that sort of coward. Like father like son. And I know what the son is like. Afterwards, you’ll see I do mean business and if you ever cross me again I’ll come after you, shooting. Now, on your feet.’
On the way downstairs I caught Evan’s arm. ‘Are you crazy, bach? He’ll beat you easily. What the hell are you achieving by doing this?’ I was so angry I felt like hitting Evan myself.
‘Just as I said, Uncle James. Though that’s only part of it. If I win then the word will spread and they’ll leave me and the family alone. You know what this place is like. They seem to think it necessary to find out how tough a man is before they’ll leave him in peace.’
I did not, could not and never would agree with him but when it came to Meg and the kids Evan was almost irrational. I believed his real fear was that if Roybal did not control his son then there was a possibility his son would do something stupid. If Evan won the fight, then perhaps the humiliation would force Roybal to do something about Junior. Maybe Evan was right, maybe he was wrong. But as I said, Evan was irrational when it came to Meg and the kids.
‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ said Roybal with a sneer as he shucked off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Evan did the same, though without bothering to reply.
We formed a loose circle around them but were careful to keep an eye on Roybal’s man.
‘Are you ready you English pig?’ challenged Roybal, stepping forward.
‘Welsh I am, boyo and I’ll thank you to remember it.’
A half dozen or so of our customers joined us and as soon as the first punch was thrown it was obvious which side they were on. Roybal was far from popular with the local people, that much was clear.
Roybal came in fast in spite of his age and the gut he carried. He threw a heavy fist at Evan’s head which if it had landed would have finished the fight there and then. Evan ducked, skipped to one side and punched Roybal in the kidneys. It was not very hard, but hard enough to make Roybal gasp.
This time Roybal closed more cautiously. Evan stood in the centre of the circle his feet planted firmly, waiting. Roybal held a loose guard position with his right fist across his chest, his left slightly forward and lower. Evan had his chin well protected with his right, his left further forward, his right arm protecting his body. Evan waited patiently. Suddenly Roybal stepped in and swung at Evan’s stomach. This time, instead of avoiding the blow, Evan blocked it and jabbed two fast left hooks at Roybal’s chin. Both connected and Roybal’s head jerked back each time. Again, I was sure Evan had not hit him as hard as he could.
The yells of encouragement from the small crowd had brought more people, many of whom appeared to be cheering for Evan.
Roybal rushed in again, trying to get close, throwing punches at Evan’s face and body. Evan blocked or ducked them all. The wildness of his movements left Roybal exposed and Evan landed seven or eight blows to the man’s face and stomach. Roybal ignored the punishment and went on trying to land one good punch, but finally he staggered back. He reeled slightly, while Evan stood there as calmly as ever, a mocking smile on his face. Roybal gulped in air, looked about him at the grinning crowd and lost his temper. He threw caution to the wind and went lumbering in. He took a hell of a battering trying to land his wild punches. One or two got through Evan’s defence, but they did not seem to bother Evan in the least.
Roybal now went down for the first time, blood pouring from his nose and cut lips. He was gasping for breath. Evan stood poised, and then relaxed.
‘Come on, Roybal, that’s enough. There’s nothing to be won by beating you anymore and there’s nothing for you to prove by taking any more punishment. You’re a brave man, nobody will deny that, but I’m twenty years younger and a lot fitter.’
Evan offered his hand, bending towards the prone figure laying in the dust. Roybal accepted the hand and Evan pulled him to his feet. As Evan did so, Roybal’s right hand picked up a load of dust and he threw it into Evan’s eyes, blinding him.
Evan staggered back, Roybal closed in, not as quickly as when the fight started maybe, but still fast enough. Evan groped to clear his eyes. Roybal landed three or four heavy blows to Evan’s stomach. Evan grunted, gasping for air and then he lost his temper.
Evan gave a roar which startled the crowd and startled Roybal too. With his eyes nearly shut, Evan stepped in and took hold of Roybal by the left shoulder, ignoring the two punches Roybal landed on his side, and went berserk. He hit, kicked, kneed so fast that Roybal was probably only half conscious when Evan took hold of his hair and lifted the man’s face up, landing a piledriver of a blow which hit Roybal on his chin and threw him half a dozen feet backwards where he sprawled in the dust. He was an inert bloody mass, though he was still breathing. The crowd, silent during that final onslaught gave a whoop and a yell. Sonny, John, myself and the others forgot about Roybal’s men as we rushed forward to congratulate Evan.
One of the gunslingers with Roybal pushed one of the crowd forward and grabbed the man’s pistol.
‘Griffiths,’ the gunslinger screamed. We all turned to look, the gun was pointing at Evan’s stomach. It was all so clear, time seeming to stand still. There was a shot, the gunman clutched his stomach, shock written on his face, blood oozing between his fingers. The gun slipped from his hand just as he collapsed. We were too stunned to move for a second and then Hans Reisenbach stepped out of the crowd, a pistol in his hand.
‘I know these men,’ he said in his guttural accent. ‘And I do not trust them. It is just as vell, Evan, ja?’ He came forward to shake Evan’s hand. ‘That vos some fight, my friend. I t’ink now ve go for a beer and a schnapps. Vot do you say, James?’
‘I agree,’ I smiled with relief. ‘I thought you said Roybal was a just man, Hans? He’s just as bad as his son.’
‘Ja, it seems that way. But then I have never seen Roybal in any other position than that of vinner. It is easy to be nice when one always vins. Is that not so?’
The crowd was beginning to break up now the excitement was over. Evan walked over to the two Roybal men who now had guns trained on them.
‘You two pick up that hoodlum and your boss and get out of here.’ When the men stood still for a second too long, he shouted, ‘Move,’ and they jumped to pick up their dead comrade. ‘Sonny, do you think you can hold the fort for a while? I sure could use that drink Mr Reisenbach just offered me.’
‘No problem, Mr Griffiths,’ Sonny was pleased at the trust Evan was putting in him. ‘And Mr Griffiths, that sure was some fight,’ he spoke with admiration. The rest of the men chorused an agreement.
‘Thanks, it’s nice of you to say so and I won’t forget what you all did for me today. I really appreciated it.’
We went to the nearest saloon where the tale of the fight had already been told a dozen times and had been exaggerated by the same amount. We never did get back to work that afternoon. The Marshal tried to make something of it but there were too many witnesses for him to do much and finally he was forced to make sure Roybal and his men left town quietly.
Meg was angry when we got home, though I suspected the anger was to hide her worry at how close Evan had been to being killed. Within the community Evan’s standing was higher after the fight and this became reflected in the business. John had returned to New York shortly afterwards, promising to return as soon as he could. He intended to let us know in good time when the SS Cardiff was back in New York so that Evan and Meg could visit him.
Over the next month we re-examined our buying policy and the sales of non-food items. Those things that were selling well, like dinner and tea services, glassware and cutlery, we kept on. Other things, like furniture and cheap jewellery, we stopped.
Meg and Evan went to New York on another buying trip and returned with the familiar train load. It was the middle of February and though there was still snow on the ground it had never been really bad. They had been back for three days when Evan was at the bank seeing Fforest and Meg was in town doing a bit of shopping. (Though you’d have thought we had enough stuff of our own, but I guess there is no satisfying a woman . . . any woman). She went under the guise of comparing prices. It was a quiet afternoon, normal for a Tuesday when we had the hold-up.
I was upstairs at the warehouse talking to Sonny when we heard the commotion down below. I rushed out to see what was going on. Three men with guns were lining up the customers and our staff against the wall. Sonny stood at the door watching what was happening while I picked up Evan’s sawn-off shot gun and hefted it in my hands.
Although I was now the proud owner of a pair of gold rimmed spectacles through which I saw the world in a much clearer light, I still wasn
’t much of a shot with the pistol Evan had given me. With the scatter gun, though, it was a different proposition altogether. I walked over to the window and threw it open. As I cocked my leg over the sill to get onto the fire escape Sonny stopped me.
‘This is for me to do, Mr Price, not you.’ He took the gun out of my hands.
‘Wrong, Sonny. You’re just the hired help and not paid to risk your life. You know what Evan said if anything like this happened. Just give them the money and let them go. Well that applies to you, not me. Nobody takes from me or mine and the Griffiths are more family than I’ve ever known. So give me the gun, quick; before they get away.’
‘I ain’t arguing with you, Mr Price,’ he said taking hold of my shoulders and pulling me back into the room. I sat ignominiously on the floor as Sonny slipped through the window and down the steps.
I got up, dusted myself down and went to the door to take another look. Two of the gunmen covered the people who were lined up against the wall and the third was making one of the girls stuff money into a sack. I knew there was not much cash there because Evan had taken it to the bank. That being the case I expected their attention to be directed up to me at any moment. Nor was I disappointed. Frightened I was, disappointed I wasn’t – though I wished it had been the other way around.
I don’t know what would have happened if a fourth man had not put his head in and yelled, ‘Junior, it’s the Marshal, with Griffiths.’ The masked man at the tills whirled around. Up until that moment I would not have recognised any of them but now I knew who it was . . . Duke Roybal’s son, Junior.
‘You’re Junior Roybal,’ one of the women customers called, pointing a finger at him. What possessed the damn fool of a woman I don’t know. At that second Sion ran in from a side entrance, and I knew Meg would not be far behind him. Sonny came in from the back and a number of things happened at once. Junior must have panicked when the door burst open and Sion appeared because he whirled and fired, shooting Sion in the head. A woman screamed and the three robbers turned to run for the door. Sonny stepped forward and fired both barrels into the backs of the fleeing men. Roybal was in front and was screened by his two friends. He escaped unharmed while the other two were cut down, almost blown in half by the force of that scatter gun. All this I saw without really looking because I was stumbling and running down the steps to get to Sion.