The Reluctant Pinkerton

by Robert J. Randisi

  This had to be Nancy’s work. She knew he was coming back. She must have set this up.

  “Now look, friend—” Roper started, but the big man wasn’t having any of it.

  He put his big paw on Roper’s chest and pushed.

  “I think I need ta teach you a lesson,” Manko said.

  Normally, Roper would have tried to talk his way out of this, but now he was forced to act as Andy Blake would.

  Before he could move, though, Manko grabbed the glass of beer and dumped the contents on Roper’s shirtfront. It dripped down and wet his trousers as well.

  “Hey, look, Manko,” the second man said, “it looks like he wet hisself.”

  “Yeah,” the third man said, “you scared him so bad, he wet himself.”

  Damn it, Roper thought, but it was Andy Blake who threw the punch.

  Roper was wearing a gun, as were the other men, but it did not occur to him to draw it. This did not yet seem to him to be a life-or-death situation. It seemed as if they were simply goading him into a fight, and Andy Blake certainly would have been goaded.

  His punch landed solidly, dead center on the big man’s face. His nose exploded and blood poured down the front of his shirt, but he did not go down. Instead, he threw a punch of his own that landed on Roper’s jaw. The disguised detective was rocked back. He would not have gone down, though, except for the fact that he tripped on someone’s foot. Later it would seem to him to have been deliberate, but at the moment he was only concerned that he was going down. He’d seen a lot of men kicked when they were down. It just seemed to invite it, and often it resulted in someone dying, sometimes by accident, and sometimes on purpose.

  He looked up and saw the big man, Manko, bleeding profusely from the nose, and his two cohorts both coming toward him with bad intentions.

  He knew the kicks were coming…

  * * *

  Nancy could hear the commotion from her room as the piano had stopped. She came out of her room, went right to the railing, and looked down at the saloon floor. The action there centered on the bar, where moments before Andy Blake had been standing.

  Satisfied, she went back into her room and closed the door.

  * * *

  Manko and his friends were preparing to launch their kicks at Roper when the batwings opened and the Fixx brothers entered. They noticed the action right away, and saw Roper on the ground.

  “Fight!” Larry shouted.

  “Come on!” Stan yelled.

  They charged the bar and bulled into Manko and his friends before they could land their kicks.

  Roper scrambled to his feet, and suddenly the fight was three-on-three…

  * * *

  Roper knew he could not go toe-to-toe with Manko. The man was simply too big. And so far no one had gone for their guns, which was good, since the Fixx boys weren’t wearing any. And no one else joined in, which left the fight three-on-three.

  Manko threw a vicious punch at Roper, which he ducked. Missing threw the big man off balance, and Roper took the opportunity to kick one leg out from under him. The big man went down hard. Roper looked over at the Fixx brothers, and they were handling their opposition pretty easily. He saw them each land several punches, and their opponents went down.

  Roper turned just as Manko came to his feet and charged him. He sidestepped the man, putting both hands out to push him as he went by, so that he went into the bar headfirst with considerable force.

  Suddenly, it got quiet.

  Stan and Larry Fixx came over to stand by Roper, who was looking down at Manko. The man’s head had cracked the wood of the bar, and he was lying there, stunned. They could all have stomped him if they’d wanted to. Instead, Roper turned to the brothers.

  “You guys got here just at the right time,” he said. “Saved my bacon.”

  “What was that all about?” Stan asked.

  “I don’t kn—” Roper started, but looking past the brothers, he saw one of the fallen men get to his knee and draw his gun. Roper pushed Stan Fixx out of the way, drew his gun, and fired. The bullet hit the other man in the shoulder, and he dropped his gun.

  “No guns!” Roper yelled. “This was just a brawl. No need for guns.”

  Manko rolled over, blinked, then waved an arm and shouted, “No guns!”

  The second fallen man took his hand away from his gun. The first man was clutching his wounded shoulder.

  Roper holstered his gun, then reached down and helped Manko to his feet.

  “I think,” he said, “we should all have a beer before the sheriff gets here. We’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Step right up, boys,” the bartender said, putting beers on the bar. “On the house!”

  22

  Sheriff Reynolds arrived moments later, had a free beer, then marched all the combatants over to the jail for a conversation. He put them all in cells, except for the one who had been shot—he went to the doctor’s office—and then took them out one at a time to question them.

  He was talking to Manko, which left Roper alone in the cell blocks with Larry and Stan Fixx, and the third man in Manko’s group.

  Roper was in one cell with the Fixxes, while the other man was in the next cell. Roper went to the bars that separated them.

  “Hey.”

  “Yeah?” the man asked. He was lying on the bunk with one arm across his eyes.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Riggs.”

  “Riggs,” Roper said, “what was that all about?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  “Well, what did Manko tell you?” Roper asked. “Hell, I don’t know any of you.”

  Riggs dropped his arm from his face and looked at Roper.

  “Friend,” Riggs said, “all I know is Manko said Miss Nancy told him to rough you up. He offered us fifty dollars each to help him.”

  “That was it?”

  “That’s all I know.”

  “Was he told to kill me?”

  “If he was, he didn’t tell us.”

  “Your buddy went for his gun.”

  “Dolan’s an idiot,” Riggs said. “That was his own idea.”

  “I see.”

  “You coulda killed ’im,” Riggs said. “Why didn’t you?”

  “What makes you think I wasn’t trying?”

  “The way you handled that gun,” Riggs said. “You were three feet away. You coulda killed him.”

  “I’m not lookin’ to kill anybody,” Roper said in Andy Blake’s voice. “I just wanna be left alone.”

  The sheriff came in with Manko, then put him in with Riggs. The big man wasn’t breathing real well through his mashed nose.

  “I need a docta,” he said mushily.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Reynolds said, “after he gets that bullet outta your friend’s shoulder.”

  “Blake,” he said, “you’re next.”

  Reynolds opened the door and Roper walked out, waited while the sheriff locked it again.

  “Siddown,” Reynolds said, “and tell me what the hell happened.”

  “Damned if I know,” Roper said. “The big fella came over and started a fight with me. Him and his friends were about to stomp me when the Fixx brothers came in and saved my ass.”

  “Just like that?” Reynolds asked. “Why would they do that?”

  “We met yesterday.”

  “And now you’re friends?”

  “Looks like.”

  “And what about Dolan?”

  “Who?”

  “The man you shot.”

  “He was about to backshoot one of the Fixx boys,” Roper said. “I stopped him.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Reynolds said. “Way I hear it, you stopped him slicker’n snot.”

  “I got lucky.”

  “So you ain’t a gunhand?”

  Roper snorted. “Not hardly.”

  Reynolds regarded Roper suspiciously.

  “You already killed two men since you’ve been in town,” he said finally, “and
now this. What am I supposed to think, Blake?”

  “Think what you want, Sheriff,” Roper said. “I came here to try and get a job. Before I know it, somebody’s trying to rob me, and somebody else is pickin’ a fight. Now, I don’t look for trouble, but I don’t back away from it neither.”

  “No, you sure don’t.”

  Reynolds sat there, looking at Roper and frowning. For just a moment the detective had the urge to confide in the lawman, but it passed quickly. He never even considered telling the man what Riggs had told him about Nancy. He was going to have to take that up with the woman himself. And somewhere away from the Bullshead. He wasn’t going to try that again.

  “All right,” Reynolds said.

  “All right, what?”

  “Your stories match,” the lawman said.

  “What did Manko say?”

  “That you bumped into him,” Reynolds said, “and you say he bumped into you. The Fixx boys say they came in, saw you in trouble, and helped out.”

  “What about Riggs?” Roper asked. “What did he say?”

  “That his friend’s an idiot, and went for his gun,” Reynolds said. “He doesn’t know why you didn’t kill him.”

  “I don’t wanna kill anybody, Sheriff,” Roper said. “I just wanna make a livin’. Why can’t anybody understand that?”

  Reynolds took Roper’s gun from his drawer and handed it over.

  “What about the Fixx brothers?”

  “I’m lettin’ them out,” he said.

  “And the others? Manko? Riggs? Dolan?”

  “They’ll stay in jail overnight,” Reynolds said. “Seems to me they started it.”

  Roper strapped his gun on as the sheriff made for the cell blocks. He stopped before entering.

  “One other thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I talked with Pete Orton,” Reynolds said. “I gave you a clean bill of health, so he’s gonna hire you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks for tellin’ me that.”

  Reynolds pointed a finger at Roper and said, “Don’t make me sorry I did that.”

  “I won’t.”

  23

  Roper stepped outside the sheriff’s office with Stan and Larry Fixx.

  “Come on, let’s get a drink,” Stan Fixx said.

  “Not at the Bullshead,” Roper said.

  “Naw,” Larry Fixx agreed. “We’ll go someplace else.”

  “You fellas lead on,” Roper said. “I’m the new guy in town, remember?”

  “Yeah, well, for a new guy,” Stan said, “you ain’t makin’ friends real quick.”

  “Those guys?” Roper said. “No friends of mine.”

  “Why’d they start a fight with you?” Larry asked.

  “Ya got me,” Roper said. “Maybe it was because I’m the new guy in town.”

  As they walked away from the sheriff’s office, Stan said, “Manko’s for hire, Andy.”

  “That’s right,” Larry said. “Somebody sent him after you.”

  “Well,” Roper said, “I ain’t got any idea who would do that.”

  “Maybe the same person who sent those other two men after you,” Stan said. “The ones you killed.”

  “When you got on the wrong side of the sheriff,” Larry added.

  “Could be,” Roper said. “But I sure as heck don’t know why.”

  “Come on,” Stan said, “there’s a small saloon around this corner.”

  “I just want one beer to wash away the taste of that cell,” Roper said, “and then I gotta turn in. The sheriff told me he talked to Pete Orton and he’s gonna give me the job tomorrow.”

  “One drink it is, then,” Larry said, “to celebrate our new coworker.”

  “What are you gonna be doin’?” Stan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Roper said. “I told him I can do about anythin’.”

  “And is that true?” Larry asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Well,” Stan said, “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

  They stopped in front of the Ace High Saloon, a much smaller place than the Bullshead, which offered whiskey and beer but no gambling.

  Which suited Roper.

  * * *

  After the one promised beer with the Fixx boys, Roper tried to wish them good night. But they wouldn’t leave him alone.

  “You get in trouble too easy, boy,” Stan said.

  “We’re gonna walk you to your hotel and tuck you in,” Larry said. “We don’t want you gettin’ yerself killed before you can start yer new job.”

  “Well, much obliged,” Roper said, because he knew he’d never talk them out of it.

  When they reached his hotel, Stan Fixx said, “Shitfire, boy, no wonder you almost got killed. This ain’t no place for a workin’ man to be stayin’.”

  “It’s fer workin’ girls,” Larry said.

  “It’s cheap,” Roper said.

  “Well, tomorrow mornin’ you check out,” Larry said. “We got a place you can stay that’s cheap, and a helluva lot cleaner than this place.”

  “You boys are really takin’ me under your wing,” Roper said.

  “Hey,” Stan said, “we don’t forget you saved one of us tonight. That jasper was gonna plug me.”

  “An’ you plugged him,” Larry said. “We don’t really know which one of us he was gonna shoot, so I figure you saved both of us.”

  “I’ll see you boys tomorrow, then,” Roper said.

  “We’ll be right here bright and early, waitin’ for ya,” Larry said.

  “We’ll take you to a good place for breakfast.”

  “Good night,” Roper said, wondering if he was ever going to be able to get away from his new friends to do his job.

  His real job.

  * * *

  Nancy heard about what had happened in the Bullshead when she came down to work, and she wasn’t happy. The man closest to the action—the bartender—gave her most of the information.

  “It was odd,” he said, “but Manko and his boys seemed real determined to get into a fight with this fella. If those Fixx brothers hadn’t come in when they did, they prolly woulda stomped him to death.”

  “What about the shooting?”

  “One of Manko’s friends went for his gun,” the barman said. “That fella Blake outdrew him slicker’n spit.”

  “Is he a gunhand, do you think?”

  “He don’t look like one,” the bartender said, “but he handled that gun okay.”

  “Where are Manko and his boys?”

  “In jail overnight, way I hear.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Nancy said. “Thanks.” She turned and saw her boss at the Bullshead, Aaron Bonner, coming toward her. Bonner was a small, dapper man in his forties who had run many businesses in the East, and then came west to Fort Worth specifically to buy and run a saloon and gambling hall. He was, however, disappointed to have found the only one available located in Hell’s Half Acre, but decided to buy it anyway. The place had been called something colorful when he bought it, but he changed the name to the Bullshead.

  “Nancy, what the hell,” he said.

  “Just a little excitement, Aaron,” she assured him. “It didn’t distract anyone from the gambling.”

  “This is why I’ve got to get a bid in on the White Elephant.”

  “Is it up for sale?”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “That would be fabulous.”

  He rubbed her arm and said, “And I’d be taking you with me…though none of these others.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she said. “That place reeks of class.”

  “No nightly shootouts there, I’m sure,” Bonner said.

  “Not that I know of.”

  Bonner looked around, satisfied that things had gone back to normal.

  “All right, then,” he said. “I’ll be in my office. Come in later and give me a report, will you?”

  “The night’s almost over,” she told him.

  “I know,�
�� he said. “Just do it, okay?”

  “Whatever you say,” she replied. “You’re the boss.”

  He touched her arm again, rubbed it, and said, “Remember that.”

  She fought the urge to recoil from his touch and said, “I will.”

  He nodded, turned, and walked back to his office.

  Nancy turned to the bartender and said, “I need a whiskey.”

  24

  Roper found the Fixx brothers waiting for him outside the hotel the next morning.

  “Hey, you’re nice and early,” Larry said. “We got us an hour before we gotta start work.”

  “Did you check out?” Stan asked.

  “I did.”

  “Where’s yer things?”

  “All I got’s in here,” Roper said, indicating the saddlebags over his shoulder.

  “Well,” Larry said, “you’ll have to buy some work clothes after you get yer first pay.”

  “I figured that.”

  “Let’s get some breakfast,” Stan said. “We can talk more over eggs.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The café the two brothers took him to was slightly better than the other places he had eaten while in Fort Worth. It was located about halfway between the hotel and the stockyards.

  “After work we can take you to a rooming house run by a widow lady,” Stan said. “She rents rooms out cheap to fellas who work the stockyards.”

  “Her husband worked there until he died,” Larry said. “She likes to take care of the boys.”

  “That sounds right nice.”

  They all had bacon and eggs, a little greasy, but edible. Around them it looked like most of the diners were also stockyard workers. The Fixx boys seemed to know everyone, and they made a few introductions.

  When breakfast was over, they left the café and walked to the stockyards.

  “We have to get to work,” Larry said, “but you better report to Orton.”

  “Hey,” Roper asked, “what is it you guys do?”

  “We’re wranglers,” Stan said.

  “Somebody’s gotta push those big beasts around,” Larry said.

  Well, they certainly seemed big enough to do that job adequately.

  “I’ll see you guys later,” Roper said. He went up the stairs to the office door, remembered to knock before entering.