by J. T. Edson
Timing his movements perfectly, Mark acted with devastating speed. Turning, he jerked up the schooner to propel its contents into Silky’s face and brought to an end the shouted request. The abrupt change from apparently passive immobility to sudden and rapid motion took the saloon worker completely by surprise. Temporarily blinded by the flood of beer, he skidded to a halt.
Down and around whipped Mark’s right hand, smashing the base of the schooner against the lining of the out-thrust jacket at the point where the fist and weapon formed a bulge. There was the crash of detonating powder, mingling with Silky’s yelp of pain. Flame spurted through the cloth, which started to smolder, but the .41 calibre bullet found its billet in the front of the bar and not human flesh.
Releasing the schooner, Mark knotted and flung out his left hand. Travelling around and up, with all the weight of his powerful young body behind it, the blow took Silky just above the belt-buckle. It plowed inwards through his hard muscles as if they were so much soaking newspaper until it seemed to be thrusting his stomach into his chest cavity. Never had the burly saloon worker experienced such nauseating pain, but it did not last for long. Expelling all the air from his lungs in a tormented cry, he double forward involuntarily and retreated a couple of steps. Just far enough, in fact, to receive the full benefit of Mark’s follow up to the punch. Moving with lightning fast precision, Mark brought his right knee to meet the descending face. Once again Silky’s torso changed direction. Snapped erect by the impact, he plunged helplessly in his companions’ direction.
Although they had been ready to support Silky, neither Shem nor Dub had expected they would need to do so. That they were seeing him being defeated failed to penetrate their heads straight away. Then, as he hurtled towards them, they started to reach for their guns. Blundering backwards, Silky scraped between them and there was insufficient room for him to pass. While he did not hit either man hard enough to knock him staggering, both were thrown off balance. Having disturbed their equilibrium to the detriment of them completing their draws, Silky landed rump-first. Continuing its rearwards motion, his torso drove the base of his skull with a crash against the floor. Halted by it, he lay motionless.
Once again Silky’s companions tried to fetch out their weapons. Gliding forward fast, Mark shot out his hands. He laid the right against the side of Shem’s head and duplicated the movement on Dub with his left. Before either man could resist, he brought their skulls together. There was a click like two enormous billiard balls making a cannon and, looking as if they had been boned, the pair collapsed limply on being released.
‘Behind you, Mark! ’ Marlene screamed, pointing to emphasize her meaning.
Pivoting around, the big blond saw the bartender moving along the counter. Even as the man started to reach for something that was underneath it, Mark’s right hand dipped and the ivory handled Army Colt flowed from his off side holster.
‘Bring them out!’ Mark commanded, lining the barrel as the hammer clicked to the rear and his forefinger curled across the trigger, just under a second after the hand first started to move. ‘And if they come up holding anything except nothing, you’ll be dead.’
‘Easy, friend!’ the bartender yelped, staring into the Colt’s unwavering muzzle and trying to decide whether it was one or two inches across. He not only obeyed, but extended his hand palms outward to shoulder level. ‘I was only after a wiping cloth.’
‘Things’re never what they look like,’ Mark commiserated, watching in the mirror for any suggestion of hostility on the part of the other saloon workers.
The door to the owner’s private office flew open and Sparlow emerged on the run. Turning from the bar, Mark swung the Colt’s barrel in his direction. Skidding to a halt, the gambler stared at the big blond. Then his gaze dropped to the three motionless figures on the floor and lifted once more to Mark.
‘What’s been going on?’ Sparlow demanded.
‘Unlikely as it’d seem, with my sweet nature, those boys of your’n didn’t take to me,’ Mark replied, trying without any success to read the gambler’s thoughts. True he looked surprised, but that would have been his reaction even if he had not ordered the trio to make the attack. Twirling the Colt back into its holster almost as rapidly as he had drawn it, he continued, ‘Got so demanding that I figured they’d best be cooled down a mite.’
‘Mark had no other choice but defend himself!’ Marlene put in, wanting to prevent her husband—or anybody else—from using the incident as an excuse to make the big blond leave town. ‘Those three provoked and insulted him. The big one even tried to kill him.’
‘He sure did,’ the telegraphist confirmed, seeing a way to ingratiate himself with an influential member of the community. There was a general rumble of agreement from the other citizens and he went on, ‘Silky was figuring to shoot the young feller and’d done it if he hadn’t got stopped.’
‘The damned drunken idiot!’ Sparlow growled, in either genuine or well-simulated anger. ‘I’ve never known him to get liquored without looking for a fight and should’ve watched him, but I was busy.’ He looked around and went on in a milder, more apologetic tone, ‘I’m sorry that this happened, folks.’
‘Shucks,’ Mark drawled, wondering if he might have been allowing his imagination to run away with him. ‘There wasn’t no harm done, except to them and they’ll be no worse than sore-headed comes morning. I’m willing to say it’s over and done with.’
Thirteen – Come Out With Your Hands Empty
‘You look like a man with more than hunting on his mind, Jesse,’ Mark Counter commented as, at half past eight on Wednesday morning, he and the gambler were approaching the small stream which flowed through the woods to the east side of Pilar.
‘You might say that,’ Sparlow answered.
‘Anything I can help on?’ Mark inquired. ‘You treated me so decent over the trouble with those boys of yours that I’d be pleased to pay you back some way.’
‘I’m obliged, Mark,’ the gambler declared, cradling a Henry rifle across the left sleeve of the brown leather jacket he was wearing along with Nankeen trousers and moccasins instead of his normal working attire. ‘In fact, it’s the boys I was thinking about.’
‘Huh huh,’ Mark grunted, with just a hint of suspicion in the non-committal sound.
‘Don’t worry,’ Sparlow said hurriedly. ‘I’ve seen them this morning. They’re a mite sore, but I’ve warned them that they’d best stay clear of you from now on.’
‘Reckon they’ll do it?’
‘If they want to stay working for me—and healthy. Which I don’t reckon they will happen they go after you again.’
‘You can bet your last red cent on that,’ Mark stated flatly. ‘The big feller’s luckier’n any one man’s the right to be. I don’t usually deal that lenient with a man who tries to turn a sneaky gun on me.’
‘Nobody’d expect you to be,’ Sparlow replied and paused as if trying to make a decision, them continued, ‘And maybe—just maybe, mind—somebody last night was counting on you not being.’
‘I don’t follow your drift,’ Mark stated truthfully.
‘Those boys’ve been with me for a fair spell and I’d hate to lose any of them,’ Sparlow elaborated. ‘Especially Silky. He’s the only proof I’ve got that Pierre made me his partner.’
‘And you reckon’s how somebody might’ve given him the idea of jumping me, hoping I’d shoot all three of them down?’
‘Not all three. You’d get Silky for sure, maybe one of the others. But the one you didn’t stop would cut you down.’
‘This somebody wouldn’t have a name,’ Mark growled and his grasp tightened on the Winchester he was carrying. ‘Now would he?’
‘This puts me in one hell of a position,’ Sparlow grumbled. ‘I’ve no proof of anything and it could’ve been no more than bar room conversation ’
‘But?’ Mark prompted.
‘I’ve said this much, so I may as well tell it all to you,’ the gambler decided wit
h every evidence of reluctance. ‘When I was talking to Silky, I asked him why he’d picked on you.’
‘You said he always hunted trouble when he’d been drinking,’ Mark pointed out.
‘Sure. And that’s all I thought it was until he told me that Austin Viridian had said you was a hired gun.’
‘Would that’ve meant something special to him?’
‘You bet it would. Of course, Viridian might not have known—’
‘What about?’ Mark demanded.
‘Silky’s got a real bad hate for hired guns, ever since a bunch of them killed his folks,’ the gambler explained. ‘But, like I said, Viridian might not have known about it; although Silky doesn’t make a secret of it.’
By that time, they had reached the edge of the stream at a point where it could be crossed by means of using a series of stepping stones. Looking back as he was about to go over, Sparlow found that Mark had halted and was glaring in the direction of the Viridian’s mansion.
‘I reckon I’d best just drift on over and ask good old Austin if he did know!’ Mark rumbled in tones redolent of menace and suspicion.
‘Hold hard!’ Sparlow ejaculated, sounding alarmed as he grabbed Mark’s arm. ‘That won’t get you anywhere. If he did know and meant for you to lock horns with Silky, he’ll lie. And if he didn’t, he’ll guess I’ve told you. Then he could pretend to believe I’m trying to make trouble for him, which’ll give him and Schweitzer an excuse to call in the law.’
‘How do you mean?’ Mark wanted to know.
‘Learning that I’m the owner of the New Orleans doesn’t sit easy with them, no matter that they pretended to agree,’ Sparlow explained. ‘They’d like an excuse to ease me out and, even with Harlow Dolman dead, they’ve still got too many friends in the State Police for me to be able to buck them.’
‘Why’d you have to buck them?’ Mark asked. ‘Pierre made you his partner in the saloon, even if he couldn’t take you as one of the Company.’
‘Only verbally,’ Sparlow pointed out. ‘They’ve got written proof he was their partner. It doesn’t say the saloon’s a separate business, but there’s no mention of it not being part of the Company’s property either.’
‘So you’re saying I should just forget it, huh?’ Mark growled indignantly.
‘No,’ Sparlow corrected, removing his hand from the big blond’s sleeve. ‘I’m just saying there could be nothing in it. Austin might not have known how Silky feels .’
‘That’s a powerful “could” and “might”,’ Mark interrupted, then looked at the gambler and relaxed. ‘It’d make things bad for you, huh?’
‘Worse than I can handle until the lawyer I’ve sent for comes and has the New Orleans signed over to me legally,’ Sparlow replied. ‘He’ll be here by Friday at the latest. Wait until that’s done and I’ll back you up against Viridian.’
‘You’ve got a deal,’ Mark declared. ‘Just so long as I get to find the truth about him. But I sure hope he doesn’t tromp on my toes, or I could change my mind. Come on. Time’s a-wasting. Let’s go after those son-of-a-bitching deer and I’ll call the first mangy old buck I drop “Austin”.’
‘That’d be a good name for it,’ Sparlow conceded and led the way across the stones.
‘This’s your neck of the woods,’ the blond giant announced, looking around after completing the crossing. ‘Where do you reckon they’ll be lying up?’
‘Could be anywhere between the water and the rim up there,’ Sparlow replied. ‘I’d say the best way for us to do it would be to separate. I’ll go up and work my way along the ridge and you follow the stream.’
‘Seems like a smart way of doing it,’ Mark conceded. ‘If I spook them up, you’ll get them and I can take any that you send down this way. Where’ll we meet up again?’
‘I can’t stay out for too long, seeing’s how I’m being sworn in as constable this morning,’ the gambler warned and studied his surroundings in a thoughtful manner. ‘I’ll tell you what. There’s a big old silver maple about half a mile down the stream. You can’t miss it, there’s not another one hereabouts. If we haven’t stirred anything up by then, I’ll have to call it a day. So I’ll meet you at it. We’ll be back of Viridian’s place and could drop by to see if there’s a cup of coffee.’
‘Now that sounds like a right smart lil old idea,’ Mark praised. ‘Austin’ll’ve gone to the factory and maybe Marlene’ll be able to answer some questions for me.’
‘Maybe,’ Sparlow grunted. ‘Well, let’s get started. Good luck.’
‘And to you,’ Mark said cheerfully. ‘I’ll see you at the maple.’
Nodding, Sparlow started to walk up the slope. There was a puzzled expression on Mark’s face as he watched the gambler go. The big blond wondered what to make of the information he had been given.
Certainly there had been no tangible evidence to support Mark’s assumption the previous night that Sparlow had arranged for the attack to be made on him. In fact, the gambler’s whole attitude, after his first understandable surprise, had appeared to be one of contrition over the incident having taken place. Having repeated his apologies to Mark and his guests, he had ordered some of the saloon-workers to remove the unconscious trio. Then, promising to deal with them in the morning, he had asked the musicians to start playing.
With the festivities resumed, Sparlow had gone out of his way to make amends to the big blond. There had no longer been any suggestion of jealousy where Gianna was concerned, although the cause for it had not arisen. Marlene had countered every attempt Mark and the Italian woman had made to get together. After a time, Mark had stopped trying rather than chance antagonizing Marlene. Instead, he had joined a group of men who Sparlow had been entertaining with stories of gambling on Mississippi riverboats. Later the talk had turned to deer hunting. Learning that Mark enjoyed the sport, Sparlow had suggested that they went out together the following morning to see if they could bag one of the big whitetail bucks which were to be found in the woodland behind the town. Despite still having harbored suspicions about the gambler, the blond giant had agreed and they had arranged to meet outside the saloon at eight o’clock.
On the way home after the dance, Mark had tried to find out what his host, hostess and Gianna Profaci had thought of the incident. Apparently, if any of them had regarded it as being anything more than Silky’s drunken desire to cause trouble, they had been unwilling to say so.
Although Marlene—without any show of eagerness or enthusiasm—backed up her invitation for Gianna to spend the night with them, she had declined. So they had taken her to her home and, to Marlene’s ill-concealed satisfaction, had left her at the front door. With that done, Mark and the Viridians had gone on to their own mansion. At no time that night, nor at breakfast, had Marlene been granted an opportunity for a private discussion with the big blond.
After Sparlow had disappeared among the foliage and undergrowth of the slope, Mark turned in a downstream direction. As he started to walk, he thought about the gambler’s information. While he could not remember having seen Viridian in conversation with Silky, there had been numerous occasions when they could have done so without him having become aware of the fact. He realized that Viridian had a stronger reason than Sparlow for wanting him out of the way. While the gambler might have been jealous, Viridian probably suspected why Marlene had invited Mark to visit Pilar.
Sending Silky after Mark would have appealed to the hide and tallow man for two reasons. Firstly, he hoped to remove a serious threat to his life. Secondly, if he had been fortunate, he might also get rid of the only person who could prove Sparlow’s claim to ownership of the New Orleans Saloon. With Silky dead, there was a better than fair chance that the business would fall into the hands of de Froissart’s established partners.
One of the points which Mark had regarded as damning evidence of Sparlow’s participation could be discounted if he had spoken the truth. Silky would have waited until his boss was absent from the barroom before attempting to pick
a fight with a potentially influential visitor.
‘One thing’s for sure,’ Mark told himself silently, working the Winchester’s lever to feed a bullet into its chamber. ‘Standing here thinking’s not going to solve anything. There’ll be time to start doing that after I’ve finished hunting.’
The big blond had not been exaggerating when he had told Sparlow how he enjoyed the sport in which he was now participating. One of his favorite outdoor pastimes was matching his wits and skills against a wary whitetail deer. So he thrust all thoughts of the attack from his head, being determined to make the most of his period in the woods and away from the people who controlled the Pilar Hide & Tallow Company.
Studying the terrain, Mark decided that the deer would be among the bushes rather than out in the open. He based his decision upon knowing that Odocoileus Virginianus Texanus, the Texas variety of whitetail deer, was a ruminant. As such, it was capable of consuming a large quantity of food in a short time to be stored in its paunch and later, having retired to a place of concealment, chewing its cud. Unless he was mistaken, any deer so close to human habitation would have done its feeding during the night and was now lying hidden.
With that in mind, Mark did not stay close to the edge of the stream. Instead, he ascended the slope a short distance and, moving with great caution, travelled parallel to it. Wanting to locate the deer, rather than scare it from its hiding place and towards Sparlow, he advanced from cover to cover, continually scanning every inch of the terrain ahead of him.
Despite his caution and careful scrutiny, Mark failed to locate a deer. In fact, he soon became aware that he was not even seeing old traces of their presence. There should have been evidence in the form of tracks, droppings, or bushes from which they had cropped leaves and twigs while feeding, but he found none.
The further Mark went, the greater grew his puzzlement over the dearth of signs. Even if Sparlow had known that the deer were likely to be lying up at the rim, so had selected the most likely area in which to hunt, there should have been traces of them down by the river.