Blood Bond 3
Page 25
Mister Dale chuckled. “Logic. Well, yes, I suppose you’re right. But Hugo and his men live and work and spend their money in this town. You boys are just drifters. You’ll spend a few dollars and then drift on. You catch what I mean? By the way, I’m Mayor Dale.”
“I’m Matt and this is my brother, Sam.”
“Smith and Jones?”
“We’re half brothers,” Sam told him.
The mayor nodded his head. “Boys, don’t play dangerous games with me. You won a fistfight. Fine. No real damage done. The people I talked with said the Lightning crew started it. All right. No charges will be filed.” His face tightened and his voice became hard. “Now let’s get down to the nut-cuttin’. I own this hotel and dining room. You boys spend the night, sleep well, then get out of here come morning. You catch my drift?”
“Oh, yeah,” Matt said. “We’ll check out in the morning.”
Mister Dale smiled. “Fine, boys. Fine.”
“Is there a boardinghouse in town?” Sam asked.
The mayor sighed, losing his smile. “You don’t seem to understand. I can have you arrested for vagrancy.”
Matt tossed a sack of gold coins on the table. Sam did the same. Matt said, “I’d sure like to see that charge stand up in a court of law.”
Mister Dale carefully opened each sack. The banker in him surfaced. His eyes glinted at the dull gold shining at him. “That’s a lot of money for a couple of saddlebums to have. I just might ask the sheriff to lock you up until we can decide if that money is stolen.”
“We both own ranches in Wyoming,” Sam told him. “And there are papers in our saddlebags to prove it. I would imagine our spreads are as large—or larger—than those around here. Try again, Mister Mayor.”
Mister Dale sugared and creamed his coffee. He sipped and added more sugar. “Two ranchers passing through,” he said softly. He shook his head. “We all make mistakes. Why did you go into the Plowshare instead of the Red Dog?”
“The Red Dog looked full,” Matt said. “We chose the quieter saloon.”
Mister Dale chuckled. “Things are tense here, gentlemen. My apologies for the behavior of Hugo’s boys, and for my ordering you out of this hotel. Stay as long as you like.” He tapped one sack of gold. “I’d bank that money, boys. That’s a tidy sum to be carrying around.”
“We might do that,” Sam told him.
The mayor stood up. “Smith and Jones,” he muttered. “Why not?”
He walked out of the dining room.
Bodine and Sam looked at each other and grinned.
Hugo brought every hand he could spare into town. They made quite a show of it and succeeded in raising a dustcloud that a tornado would have been hard-pressed to match.
Mister Dale met the rancher on the boardwalk in front of the Red Dog and briefly explained the situation.
Hugo Raner shook his big head. Everything about Hugo was big. He was a bear of a man. “That don’t make a damn to me, Dale,” he said. “I aim to see those two horsewhipped. Now get out of my way.”
“Just calm down a second,” Mister Dale said. “And think about what you’re planning. Smith and Jones came into town looking for a room and a meal. That’s all. They are respected Wyoming ranchers and have the funds and the papers to prove it. Your men were out of line. What we don’t need now is trouble that will be carried out of this area. We don’t want outside authorities to catch wind of this upcoming war. Now think about that, Hugo.”
The big man thought for a moment and then sighed. He removed his hat and ran thick, blunt fingers through his dark hair. “All right, Dale. All right. I see what you mean. It was a misunderstanding all the way around.”
“There they are, boss.” Tulsa spoke from the saddle.
Hugo looked at the two men coming out of the hotel. His experienced eyes took in Matt’s two guns and the way the man walked. He shifted his gaze to Sam. “They’re gunfighters, Dale. Both of them. And that one has some Injun in him. Injun! Jumpin’ Jesus Christ, Dale, they’re ranchers, all right. But I’ll tell you something else: that’s Matt Bodine and Sam Two Wolves!”
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Copyright © 1991 by William W. Johnstone
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