“Obliged,” Matt replied. He walked back over to the table where Strayhorn had been sitting. The untouched steak had fallen back onto his plate, and Matt cut off a generous piece of it and stuck it into his mouth. He picked up the pitcher of beer and took several swallows before he set it back down. The rest of the saloon continued to watch him in silence.
“I hear tell nearly everyone in Dorena is an outlaw,” Matt said. “Whether you are, or you aren’t makes no difference to me. I’m not here after anyone except Strayhorn and whoever was with him when he took a young woman from the train. And I’m also looking for that young woman.”
“You ain’t the only one lookin’ for her,” the bartender said.
“What do you mean?”
“The girl got away from Strayhorn sometime this mornin’,” the bartender said. “He’s been looking for her all day.”
“So she is still alive?” Matt asked, feeling a sense of relief.
“As far as I know, she is. Leastwise, she was this mornin’.”
Matt looked over at Strayhorn. “Who else was with him?” he asked aloud.
“Mister, you’re crazy if you think you can come in our town and get one of us to squeal on our own,” Murdoch said.
Matt pulled his pistol and shot, doing it so fast that everyone was caught by surprise. His bullet clipped off the fleshy bottom part of Murdoch’s earlobe, and even as Murdoch was putting his hand to his bloody ear, Matt put his pistol back in his holster.
“Who else was with him?” Matt asked again.
“No Nose Nelson and Pauley Moore,” Murdoch said quickly.
“You know where they are?”
“No, no, I don’t know.”
“How about you?” Matt asked the bartender. “Do you know where they are?”
“Mister, I can’t answer that,” the bartender replied. “My life wouldn’t be worth a plug nickel if I did.” Even as he was refusing to speak, however, the bartender flicked his eyes up.
“All right,” Matt replied. “I’ll find them myself.”
Upstairs in one of the rooms, in the bed of a whore, No Nose heard the gunshot. Then the saloon suddenly grow strangely quiet. He stopped.
“Are you finished, honey?” the girl asked.
“Shut up,” No Nose hissed.
“What?” the girl asked, surprised by No Nose’s harsh command.
“I said shut up!” No Nose hissed again, putting his hand over her mouth. When he was sure she wouldn’t speak again, he pulled his hand away. The girl took a long, gasping breath.
No Nose sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then reached for his pistol. It was still deathly quiet below. “Don’t you hear that?” he asked.
“I don’t hear anything,” the girl answered in a quiet, whimpering voice.
“Yeah, that’s just it,” No Nose said. “Neither do I.”
Still holding his pistol, No Nose began slipping back into his pants. As he was pulling on his boots, he kept his eye on the doorknob. He had just got them on when he saw the doorknob move ever so slightly.
Raising his pistol, No Nose began firing, punching a pattern of six bullets through the door in such a way that one of them was sure to be fatal for whoever was on the other side.
With an angry shout, No Nose rushed across the room and kicked open the door. He ran out onto the landing just outside the door.
Matt had jiggled the doorknob, then stepped to one side, no more than a second before the fusillade of bullets. He stood on one side of the door with his back to the wall, watching the spray of splinters as the bullets came through. Then he heard No Nose’s loud, angry shout as the outlaw dashed across the room. When No Nose appeared on the landing, Matt brought his pistol crashing into the back of No Nose’s head. The blow, plus the momentum of No Nose’s rush, carried him through the banister, causing him to crash headfirst onto one of the tables in the room below.
Matt looked down at him, then realized he didn’t have to hurry. No Nose was dead.
“He’s here!” Pauley said. “He’s in town, now.”
Goneril, who was sharing a stall with his horse, was sitting in the corner, eating beans from a can.
“Where is he?” he asked, wiping some bean juice away from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Pauley pointed. “He’s in the saloon. He’s already kilt No Nose, and he’s got Strayhorn chained up to a post.”
Goneril laughed. “Trussed up like a pig goin’ to market, is he?”
“What are you goin’ to do?” Pauley asked.
Goneril stood up, then walked over to his saddle and tack. He pulled the Remington rolling-block rifle from from its sheath, picked up a little cloth bag of .50-caliber shells, then started toward the ladder that led to the loft of the livery barn.
“I’m goin’ to kill the son of a bitch, is what I’m going to do,” Goneril said.
“What do you want me to do?” Pauley asked.
“I don’t care what you do,” Goneril called back over his shoulder as he climbed into the loft.
Pauley watched the half-breed until he could no longer see him. Then it dawned on him that if shooting started between Goneril and Jensen, the livery barn would not be the safest place to be. He left the barn, and stepped into the billiards parlor next door.
Up in the loft of the livery, Goneril prepared for his target. Cocking the hammer on his rifle freed the pivoted breechblock. Then he thumbed the rolling block backward and down to expose the chamber. Pulling a. 50-caliber shell from the little cloth bag, he inserted it into the chamber, then rolled the block upward and forward to again seal the breech. After loading, he eased the hammer forward to the half-cock position, got down behind a bale of hay, and looked up the street toward the saloon. He aimed at the front door of the saloon, then waited.
Back at the saloon, Mabel had watched the drama unfold, culminating with No Nose crashing through the upstairs banister and breaking his neck when he fell. Several of the saloon patrons gathered around the body, looking down at it with morbid curiosity.
“You all seen that!” Strayhorn shouted from his postion on the floor, handcuffed to a supporting post. “He kilt No Nose in cold blood. Same as he tried to kill me!”
“Where’s the girl?” Matt asked.
“Even if I knew where the bitch was, I wouldn’t tell you,” Strayhorn said.
“I know where she is,” Mabel said.
“Where is she?” Matt asked.
“According to a story I read in the paper, there is a thousand-dollar reward to anyone who finds her. Is that right?”
“How is the girl?” Matt asked.
“She is fine. What about the reward?”
“Yes, there is a reward. And I will see that you get it,” Matt said.
“You bitch!” Strayhorn shouted to Mabel from his position on the floor. “You know where she is and you didn’t tell me?”
“I not only know where she is, I’m the one who took here there,” Mabel said.
“Whore, your life ain’t worth a plug nickel,” Strayhorn growled.
“Yeah? What are you going to do to me, chained up to the post like you are?”
“I got friends in this town,” Strayhorn said.
“You’ve got no friends,” Mabel said.
“Where is the girl?” Matt asked.
“Like I told you, she is safe. I took her over to the house of a friend, Frederica Arino.”
“The Mexican whore?” Strayhorn said. “You took her over to that . . .” Strayhorn stopped in mid-sentence. “Wait a minute! Yes, I saw her!” he said. “That was her! Frederica told me it was her sister, and I believed her because I didn’t recognize her. But I know now that it was the McKenzie bitch!”
“Where is this place?” Matt asked.
“Come with me, I’ll show you,” Mabel said.
“You don’t need to be worryin’ none about no reward!” Strayhorn shouted as Mable and Matt start toward the front door. “Do you hear me, bitch! Neither one of you w
ill get out of this town alive!”
At the far end of the street, in the loft over the livery barn, Gonreil saw the front door of the saloon open. Pulling the hammer back, he rested the rifle on a stanchion, then looked through the sights.
There he was! Matt Jensen stepped through the door and was standing on the front porch, a perfect target!
As Mabel started to step down from the stoop, she caught her foot on a loose board and nearly tripped. In order to regain her balance, she stepped in front of Matt.
Just as Goneril squeezed the trigger, he saw the whore move in front of Jensen.
“Careful,” Matt said, reaching out to keep Mabel from falling. That was when he heard the angry buzz of a bullet.
“Uhnn!” Mabel said.
Matt was holding her, and he felt her slump in his arms as the heavy bullet plunged into her chest.
“Oh!” Mabel said. “What happened?”
“You’ve been shot,” Matt said.
“Shot,” Mabel repeated. It wasn’t a question, it was an observation, and there was more a sense of awe than fear in her voice.
Looking up, he saw a plume of gun smoke drifting away from the open window of the loft of the livery barn.
“Shit!” Goneril said aloud when he realized that he had hit the woman instead of Jensen.
Pulling the hammer back again, he opened the breechblock. The extractor did not eject the empty cartridge, but it did pull it up for enough for him to be able to remove it by hand. Quickly, he slipped another shell into the chamber, closed the block, and looked down the sights for a second shot.
Goneril had not intended to shoot the whore. But having shot her, he expected to get a second attempt at Jensen. But Jensen wasn’t there, and neither was the woman.
“What the hell? Where did they go?”
Matt dragged Mabel back into the saloon, then knelt down beside her.
“I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere else anyway,” Mabel said. She coughed, and flecks of blood appeared on her lips. “Once a whore, always a whore.” She tried to laugh.
“You were trying to help an innocent woman,” Matt said. “That had nothing to do with being a whore.”
“Promise me you’ll get her back home safe,” Mabel said.
“I promise,” Matt replied.
Mabel nodded. “That’s good,” she said. “That’s good.”
Mabel died.
“Well, now, that was just real tender,” Strayhorn said from the floor where he was handcuffed to the post. “Yes, sir, that just brought tears to my eyes.”
Matt stood up and looked down at Mabel for a moment, then started toward the back door of the saloon.
“You goin’ to buy flowers for the whore’s funeral, are you?” Strayhorn called out to him. Strayhorn laughed, a high-pitched cackle. “Yeah, I belive that’s what you’re goin’ do do all right. You goin’ to—unh!”
The grunt came from a kick in the face, rendered by Matt as he walked by him. Matt said nothing to him, nor did he even look back. It was just a kick in passing, but it was enough to leave Strayhorn bleeding from the nose and lips.
“I’ll kill you, for this!” Strayhorn shouted as Matt started through the back door. “Do you hear me? I’m going to kill you!”
“Strayhorn, if I was you, I’d shut up about now,” the bartender said.
Strayhorn glared at the bartender, but said nothing else.
Once outside behind the saloon, Matt darted down the alley, not toward the livery barn, but away from it. When he reached the far end of the alley, he saw a wagon coming up the cross street. Matt got on the side of the wagon away from the livery barn and, shielded by the wagon, crossed the main street unseen.
“What’s goin’ on?” the wagon driver asked.
“Nothing,” Matt said. “Just keep going.”
When Matt drew even with the alley on opposite side of the street, he started up the alley toward the livery barn.
At the sound of Goneril’s shot, Pauley left the billiards parlor, ran across the street, darted up alongside the leather-goods store, then started up the alley. He saw Matt leaving the back of the saloon and, gasping, he jumped back behind the corner of the leather-goods store to avoid being seen. When he looked around again, he saw Matt slip around behind a wagon and duck down to use it as concealment.
Pauley ran up the alley to the saloon, then went inside.
“Strayhorn! Strayhorn, you still here?” he called.
“Where the hell else would I be?”
“Damn, what happened to you?” Pauley asked when he saw Strayhorn’s face.
“Never mind what happened to me. Just get me loose from here.”
“How the hell am I goin’ to do that?” Pauley asked. “I don’t have the key.”
“You don’t need a key,” Murdoch said. Murdoch was the one who had had part of his ear shot away by Matt. The ear was no longer bleeding, but he was still cutch-ing a bloody handkerchief.
“What do you mean, you don’t need a key?”
“All you need is a nail or something to stick down inside the cuff there. Push the clasp out of the way, and you can open it.”
“Where the hell am I goin’ to get a nail?”
“This’ll do it,” Murdoch said, opening the little shell-extracting ramrod on his pistol. In less than a minute, he had Strayhorn free.
Strayhorn stood up and rubbed his wrists for a moment. “Come on,” he said to Pauley. “I intend to put a few bullets in Jensen’s carcass.”
“He’s goin’ after Goneril,” Pauley said. “Like as not, he’ll be dead by the time we get there.”
“Then I’ll put bullets in his dead body,” Strayhorn said angrily.
Matt moved into the barn through the back door. He had to stand there for just a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the sudden shadows. As he stood there, he heard a slight movement from above, and looking up toward the loft, he saw a few bits of straw fluttering down through a shaft of sunlight.
Putting his pistol in his holster, Matt started up the ladder, climbing up very slowly.
Goneril heard someone coming up and he smiled, then turned and leveled the big buffalo rifle at the top of the ladder. The top of the hat appeared then the crown, and finally the entire hat.
Goneril pulled the trigger and the rifle roared loudly within the confines of the loft. A huge cloud of smoke rolled out from the end of the barrel, and the hat went flying.
“Hah! I got you!” Goneril shouted.
Suddenly, and to Goneril’s complete shock, Matt’s head and shoulders appeared above the top of the ladder.
“No, you got my hat,” Matt said.
Matt had both hands on the top of the ladder, which showed Goneril that he wasn’t armed.
“You son of a bitch!” Goneril shouted. He made a wild, desperate grab for his pistol, drawing it and firing, just as Matt came over the top of the ladder and rolled across the floor of the loft. Goneril managed to fire a second time before Matt was in position to draw his gun. Matt only shot once, but it was enough. His bullet hit Goneril right between the eyes. He walked over to look down at Goneril’s body, then, on impulse, searched through his pockets until he found the little piece of paper he was looking for. He wrote something on the paper, then stuck it in Goneril’s mouth.
This is for my horse, Spirit.
“Matt! You came for me!” Layne said when Frederica opened the door to Matt’s knock. “I knew you would!” She threw herself into his arms, embracing him and kissing him. Matt didn’t push her away. After the effusive greeting, and a heartfelt expression of gratitude to Frederica and Maria, Matt and Layne stepped back outside.
“Well, now, lookie here,” Strayhorn said. “Looks like you found my girl for me.”
Strayhorn, Pauley, and Murdoch were all three standing about ten yards in front of Frederica’s house, and all three had their pistols drawn.
“How did you get here?” Matt asked.
Strayhorn chuckled. “Well, you know what
they say, Jensen. You can’t keep a good man down.” Strayhorm looked at Layne and made a lateral motion with his pistol. “You,” he ordered. “Get over there.”
“Do it, Layne,” Matt said. “I don’t want you anywhere near me right now.”
“Good thinking, Jensen, because we’re about to shoot you dead,” Strayhorn said. “Frederica, you whore!” Strayhorn called. “You come out here too. Do it now, or I’ll kill this bitch where she stands!”
“No, Señor, don’t shoot, I will come,” Frederica said.
“Don’t come out, Frederica!” Layne called. “He’s going to shoot me whether you come out or not.”
From behind him, Matt heard Frederica come out of the house. She moved over to join Layne.
“Now, Jensen, you—”
Whatever Strayhorn was about to say was interrupted by the roar of a shotgun. Strayhorn’s face was turned to a bloody pulp by a load of double-aught buckshot.
Before Pauley or Murdoch could react, or even know they were in danger, Matt’s pistol was in his hand, and it barked twice. Both men went down with fatal wounds.
From behind him, Frederica’s daughter, Maria, came out of the house, carrying a smoking shotgun. Walking over to Strayhorn’s body she kicked him, then spit upon him.
“You will never rape a young girl again,” she said.
Denver
Matt, Layne, and Governor Routt were having coffee and cake in the parlor of the governor’s mansion.
“Another piece of cake, Matt?” the governor asked.
“Thank you, but no,” Matt said. “The piece I had was very good, and very generous.”
Governor Routt laughed. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. I have trained by kitchen staff not to be parsimonious when it comes to serving dessert. What about you, my dear? Would you like another piece?” the governor asked Layne.
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