“You’re talking like a moon-struck schoolboy,” she said. “Now do as I tell you and get Reilly out of town.”
“I want to marry you,” Ernie said. “Once you wanted to marry me too, Jane. You don’t belong in a saloon, or with Burk Seever.”
“So you know about that.” Her shoulders moved in a small shrug. “I suppose you’d go noble on me and say that it didn’t matter.”
“It don’t,” Ernie said. “Whatever reasons you had would suit me. I wouldn’t even ask what they were.”
“You’re not fooling me,” Jane said. “I know how it would be. You’d work on me and pester me until you found out, and then we’d be through.” She shook her head and her ringlets stirred. “And even if that didn’t happen, I don’t want to work my life away on some quarter section. I told you that before.”
“You’re lying. You love me and you can’t hide that.”
“Get out of here now,” Jane told him. “Go on, take your fighting friend and beat it.”
“All right,” Ernie said, and touched her cheek. She slapped his hand away.
“You got away with it once,” she snapped. “Don’t press your luck.”
“You’re not fooling me,” Ernie said. “I’ll wait, Jane. Whatever’s hangin’ over you is goin’ to show its hand one of these days, and when I find it out, I’d say you’ll get out from under it mighty quick.”
She said, “Be careful with that kind of talk. Get Reilly out of town now.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Ernie said. “I’ll see you again, Jane. I’ll see you lots of times.”
“Don’t count on it,” she said, and watched him walk down the alley.
Ernie did not use the gap between the buildings. He walked to the end, came out the side street and crossed over on the other side. Reilly Meyers was sitting on a bench in front of the mercantile, smoking a cigarette, when Ernie came up and hunkered down to one side. “Have a good visit?” Reilly asked.
“I guess,” Ernie said. “Jane says to get you out of town, Reilly. She seemed real worried about your health.”
Reilly took the cigarette from his lips and spun it into the street. “That’s interesting. Tell me more.”
“Nothin’ to tell. She wouldn’t say what or anything. Just to get you out.”
“Somethin’ in the wind?”
Ernie snorted. “You put a crimp in Seever’s tail. Bucks lays Indian Jim low, then Henderson, and you want to know what’s in the wind.” He stood up. “I’ll get Walt and Bucks and we’ll get the hell out. What do you say?”
“All right,” Reilly said, and flipped his head around sharply as a tin can clattered across the street. There was little movement along the other walk. Two men sat before the shoemaker’s talking. Another man walked along a half a block up.
“That’s peculiar,” Reilly said. He shifted until shadows masked him. “Where’d that come from? That tin can?” He scanned the street, pausing at each gap between buildings. Then full awareness hit him and he gave Ernie a shove that sent him sprawling.
The dark slot on the near side of the saloon bloomed like a sunflower and a rifle bullet puckered the plank walk near Reilly’s feet. Echoes pounded along the street and somewhere a man yelled.
Reilly pulled his gun and fired hurriedly at the muzzle flash. He started for the street but caution checked him. Ernie rolled to a sitting position in the dust and stood up, beating rank clouds from his levis.
“Damn it to hell,” he said.
Kneeling, Reilly felt of the splintered walk. The clerk came out of the store, asking questions in a high, excited voice. “Get me a lantern,” Reilly said, and the man hurried back inside.
By the time the clerk came back a good sized crowd had gathered. Reilly held the light low to examine the chewed spot. He whistled softly and said, “A forty-eighty-two. That bastard wasn’t after quail.”
Milo Bucks and Walt came up then, pushing their way through the crowd. Reilly spoke to the crowd. “Let’s break it up. The fun’s over.”
“Didn’t look like fun to me,” one man said as he turned away. They broke off in chattering groups, leaving Reilly and his crew standing before the mercantile.
“There was the try I was tellin’ you about,” Ernie said.
“What was you tellin’ him?” Walt wanted to know.
“Never mind,” Reilly said. “Get the horses, Milo. We’re goin’ home.”
“It’s time,” Bucks agreed. “We’ve had ourselves a real play party.” He walked down the street, whistling softly between his teeth.
Reilly and the others waited until Bucks came back with the horses, and then they mounted. Childress stepped down from the hotel porch and walked toward them. “Wait a minute,” Reilly said.
After looking Reilly over carefully, Childress said, “Well, Reilly, you always wanted to lick Burk.”
“Is that what you came here to tell me?”
“No,” Childress said. “We’re moving stock tomorrow. You ready for it?”
“We’ll take care of it,” Reilly assured him. “Anything else on your mind, Paul?”
“There might be,” Childress admitted. “I’d like to talk to you a little later, if you’re not in a hurry. I have a room at the hotel.”
“All right,” Reilly said. He nodded to the others. “I’ll meet you at the place.”
“I think I’ll stay,” Ernie said in a blunt way that invited no argument.
“Take this then,” Milo said, and unbuckled his gun. “Seems that this here’s a real live town and a man ain’t sure what the hell he’ll run into.” He grinned, wheeled his horse and followed Walt out of town.
Childress patted his pockets absently for his pipe. He said, “I’ll see you at the hotel,” and walked away.
They dismounted and retied the horses in front of the store. Ernie fidgeted with the reins, then said, “You’re a damn fool for sure. Somebody wants you to stay in town and you’re playin’ right along with ’em.”
“Paul?”
“I didn’t say that.”
They went down the street toward the restaurant. The activity of the town had died down a little. Many families were already heading home. Bloom was closing his barbershop when Reilly and Ernie paused.
Bloom peered at the cuts on Reilly’s face. “I got just the thing for them,” he said.
“What? Cuttin’ the head off?”
“I’m serious,” Bloom said. He was a little man who took a great deal of pride in his profession. “I’ve patched up worse than that.”
Footsteps rattled on the steps, and Bloom turned the key in the lock and walked off. The doctor stepped down to the street level and rubbed his stomach. He smelled strongly of shag tobacco and chemicals. Behind him. Sheriff Henderson paused, a large white bandage around his head.
He saw Reilly and Ernie standing there and pushed the doctor to one side. “What are you hangin’ around for?” he asked.
Reilly grinned. It hurt his face, but he couldn’t resist rubbing salt in Henderson’s wounds. Now that the war had opened, he decided to declare it properly. “You don’t like it?” he said.
Henderson scowled, and when the doctor moved to speak to Reilly, the sheriff gave him a shove that sent him off the boardwalk.
“I want to tell you somethin’ now,” Henderson said. “I’m declarin’ open season on that punk friend of yours.”
“Better be careful,” Reilly said. My punk friend has a hell of a big stinger.” He turned as though to leave, and then swung back. “How’s Burk? Dying, I hope.”
“He’s in bad shape,” Henderson said. “You hit him with a lot of furniture.” The sheriff tapped Reilly’s chest with his finger. “Burk just may die, bucko boy, and if he does I’ll be coming after you with a warrant.”
“Somebody took a shot at me tonight,” Reilly said. “Where were you?”
“With Burk,” Henderson said. “Reilly, you’re heading for a great big fall. First thing off you’ve got to start foolin’ around with a man’s wife. Burk was only doin’ what any man would have done. When you fool around with a woman, you can figure on havin’ to square the bill with her husband.”
Reilly hit him with a suddenness that shocked even Ernie Slaughter. Henderson went back against the wall of the barbershop, both arms flailing to keep his balance, and Reilly was on him before he could set himself.
He hit the sheriff again, a spearing blow that brought him to his knees. Then he cracked Henderson on the base of the neck with a downsledging fist. Ernie jumped on Reilly’s back, pinning his arms. He spread his legs wide and pulled Reilly away from Henderson, who braced himself on stiffened arms and tried to get up.
“Leave him alone!” Ernie snapped, and released Reilly.
“To hell with that noise,” Reilly said. He moved toward Henderson again. “Get up, you mouthy bastard. You want a fight, then you can have it.”
“No.” Henderson raised a hand. “No.”
“Then get out of my sight,” Reilly told him.
The sheriff tried to stand. Reilly kicked out, driving his feet from under him. Henderson fell flat, rapping his head on the boardwalk. He cried out in sharp pain and Reilly said, “Crawl away. Don’t walk.”
Henderson began to inch toward the street on his hands and knees. He went into the dust and halfway across before he stood erect and weaved into the saloon. The crowd of men standing on the porch parted to let him pass, but they said nothing.
Ernie Slaughter said, “You were wrong, Reilly. Dead wrong.”
“He had no right to say what he did.”
“Man calls the shots as he sees ’em,” Ernie, said. “She came to you twice. The whole town knows it. You make a mistake with Jack. No need to give a man a reason to kill you.”
“I play it the way I see it,” Reilly said, but he felt ashamed for letting his temper get the best of him. “If you don’t like it—”
“I didn’t like it,” Ernie said, “and I’m telling you so to your face. A man don’t stand by and see his friends go wrong, not if he’s anythin’ himself.”
“The damage is done now,” Reilly said, and regret began to dig deep. He stirred restlessly. “Let’s get something to eat.”
The restaurant was nearly empty when they entered and took a back table. A cowboy, with too much to drink, slept across one table. The proprietor, a large man with hairy knuckles, woke him and moved him on his way.
“Coffee,” Reilly said when the waitress came over. She had flushed cheeks and drooping skin under her eyes. She even walked tired.
The coffee came, hot and strong enough to float a .45 pistol cartridge. Reilly raised the cup and jumped when it burned his cut lips. He diluted it with water and then drank it.
In cowboy fashion, they ordered pie next, eating their meal backwards with the steak and potatoes following the pie. There were no niceties like soup or salad; they would not have known what to do with them anyway.
Reilly passed his tobacco to Ernie Slaughter after the steak had been reduced to a clean T bone, and they smoked. Reilly asked, “Kick me if I’m nosy, but how’re you and Jane coming along?”
“No change,” Ernie said, and took a last puff before letting it sizzle in the coffee cup. “What happened there, Reilly? You tell me.”
“How can I tell you?” Reilly murmured. “Hell, when I left for the pen, you and her was fixin’ to get married.”
“Yeah,” Ernie said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Then her ma died and something went to hell. Jane got a job over at the Indian Agency and wouldn’t let me come see her any more.”
“How come she’s singin’ in Burkhauser’s?”
Ernie’s shoulders rose and fell. “She quit the Agency two years ago and the next time I saw her was in the saloon, dancin’ with them bastards lookin’ at her legs.”
“Take her out of there if you want her that bad,” Reilly said.
“That’s your way, not mine.” Ernie shook his head. “I know Jane, Reilly, and she’s not doin’ this ’cause she wants to. Somethin’s makin’ her do it.”
“What? Any guesses?”
“Burk Seever, maybe. She’s got a cabin at the edge of town. I followed him there one night. He didn’t leave until dawn.”
“And you still want her?”
Ernie’s eyes were bleak. “I’ve done my hellin’, Reilly. I’d be a poor one to preach to any woman.”
“Better get yourself another girl,” Reilly advised.
“Can’t,” Ernie said. “I didn’t do the pickin’. Somethin’ inside a man sort of takes care of that.”
“Now who’s the damn fool?”
“We all are, I suppose. It’s funny, Reilly, but to me she ain’t never done nothin’ wrong. Inside, where it counts, she’s clean.”
Reilly stood up and dropped some money on the table. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
They stepped to the boardwalk as a horseman rode down the street and dismounted by the saloon. Ernie murmured, “Max is a little late, ain’t he? Or did he plan it that way.”
“I don’t see a rifle,” Reilly said. “But then, he could have borrowed one.” Horgan turned, once he mounted Burkhauser’s porch, and surveyed the street carefully. His eyes tarried a moment on Reilly Meyers, then he went in. The batwings flapped idly behind him.
His sorrel horse stood in the full light coming through Burkhauser’s door and Reilly cast his attention on it. “I’ve seen that horse before,” he said. “It’s the damnedest feelin’, seein’ something and not bein’ able to place it. Somehow I get the idea all the time that someone else owned that sorrel horse.”
“What the hell difference does it make? You goin’ to see Paul?”
“Later,” Reilly said. “I thought I’d wander around a spell.”
“Sure.” Ernie smiled faintly. “I know how it is.”
“Do you?”
“I reckon,” Ernie said, and sauntered toward the hotel.
Reilly glanced toward the bakery. Finding it dark, he moved down the street to come in through the alley.
CHAPTER 8
Reilly tried the back door of the bakery. It wasn’t locked. He stepped into the thick darkness and moved slowly, his hand outstretched before him. He came against the table edge and pots hanging from the center rack rattled.
A streak of light came from beneath Tess Isham’s door and then it opened suddenly. She said, “Who’s there?” and her voice was high pitched.
“Me,” Reilly said, and stepped into the light. The lamp behind her laid shadows over her face as she stepped aside. He entered her room and she closed the door.
“Your face looks terrible,” she said. “You ought to see the doctor.”
“He’s busy takin’ care of the other fellow,” Reilly said. He tossed his hat onto a small table and settled gingerly into a chair. His muscles felt tight now. Tight and aching.
The small potbellied stove in the corner sighed. Tess removed the top lid, laying it in the coal scuttle. She set the coffee pot over the open hole and then crossed her arms, leaning against the wall to watch him.
“Why did you do it, Reilly?”
He shrugged. “Been long overdue.”
“You know how the talk will be now, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t give a damn. I was thinking of what they’ll be saying about you.”
“Forget about me,” Tess said. “I told you once, Reilly—I’m a big girl now and I can take care of myself.” The coffee pot began to rumble and she took it off the stove. Two cups clinked against each other, chuckling in the saucers as she set them on the table. Over the rim of her cup, she said, “I thought you’d changed, but you haven’t. You’re still a mucklehead
with more fight than sense.”
“You trying to draw blood?”
“I would if I thought it would do any good.” But abruptly the stiffness left her face and moisture gathered in her eyes. “Oh, Reilly, look at your face.”
She came around the table and touched his face gently. “Go lie down, Reilly.”
He settled himself on her bed, the springs protesting beneath his unaccustomed weight. She poured a pan full of water and ripped an old sheet into rags. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and bathed his cuts.
“I heard the fight going on,” she said. “It sounded like you two were tearing the saloon down.”
“Practically. Seever stomps his feet when he walks.”
“That’s not funny,” Tess said sternly. “How do you think I felt, listening? And then Ernie carried you out. I thought Burk had won again.”
“And then they carried Burk out,” Reilly said. “For years I’ve wanted to see him horizontal.”
She set the pan of pink water on the floor and folded her hands in her lap. “Maybe you liked it, but someone else didn’t. At least enough to take a shot at you.”
“Some drunk,” he said.
“Was it?”
He sighed and swung his feet to the floor. “No,” he admitted. “It’s got me worried some, Tess. Is Burk in so solid with the wild bunch that they’d shoot me because I whipped him?”
“He could be Mister Big.”
Reilly shook his head. “I can’t believe it. Even if I was faced with the fact, I’d still not believe it.”
“Why not? He’s in a position to be, isn’t he?”
“There’s someone else, Tess. I know Burk. Even as a kid he was mean. Just plain ornery. He’s never been any good and that kind of a man couldn’t boss anyone. A man can be tough as hell, and ruthless, and still head other men—but as a general rule they don’t like a mean man. They just won’t work for him.”
“Then who?”
“Horgan, maybe,” Reilly said. “Or Winehaven. They’ve both got a crew of toughs working for them.” He braced his elbows on his knees and set his chin in his palms, the fingers splayed along the cheeks. “Don’t know what’s got into me, Tess, but all of a sudden I’m worried. Worried and scared.”
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