The Reckoning

by Mike Torreano

  “Yes, well, I’m not sure I can help you much. She just didn’t show up the next morning after the errand.”

  “Did you owe her any wages when she disappeared?”

  “I’m not sure disappeared is the right…”

  He’d had enough of Margaret’s bantering. “Don’t parse words with me, woman, or I’ll turn this shop upside down.”

  Margaret’s eyes widened. “She just left, I don’t know no more than that. I mean any more than that.” She put a hand to her mouth, then dropped it back to the table. “I’ve been wondering about her ever since. Really I have.”

  Ike stared at her. “Did you ever ask the sheriff if he knew where she went?”

  “I don’t like your tone, Mr. Porter.” The woman’s tone still had a little haughtiness in it. “I’m not responsible for your sister.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you care much that she stopped showing up to work and just disappeared without a word.” The accusation hung in the air, waiting for an answer.

  “Well, it’s not like she’s the first young woman to decide she wants a change of scenery.”

  Ike leaned toward Margaret, who backed up a little more behind the table. “I don’t like your tone, Pinshaw, and I don’t like your answers. I came to town to find out what’s happened to Sue, and I ain’t gonna leave here ’til I do.” He pointed a finger directly at her. “I’ll be seeing you again, you can count on it.” As he walked out, he eyed the decorative hats on the wall, strode over to a big blue one with a beige hatband, took it off a hook, spun it at her, and slammed the door behind him.

  He’d always been good at reading people. It had saved his life more than once. The lady was hiding something.

  Chapter Eight

  After his row with Margaret Pinshaw, Ike decided to back off and see if anything would come of it. He figured the Wildfire Saloon would be as good a place as any to uncover something that might point him to Sue’s whereabouts. He joined a poker game that afternoon when one of the players left the table. Five expressionless men stared at him as he sat down. Soon the hands piled up, and Ike was in a fix.

  The cards were coming up aces for the cowboy across from him though. The man was cheating, but Ike couldn’t see how. Ike had been losing to the surly wrangler for more than an hour and still hadn’t figured out his tricks. From what he could see, the shuffle looked okay. The deal looked okay. It had to be something else. The sooner he figured it out the better. The stash of money in front of him had dwindled to next to nothing.

  One of the players asked Ike where he was from. “I’m from back east a ways. Came here lookin’ for somebody.”

  “Sounds like you’re looking for someone in particular. Mind my asking who?”

  The man was a proper-looking sort in a black suit and bolo tie, both out of place in a rundown saloon like the Wildfire. He resembled a banker. Ike decided he might as well answer since he’d already told the sheriff why he was here. “I’m lookin’ for my sister, Sue.”

  The dealer spun a card to Ike that flew off the table. “That one got away from me.”

  Ike studied the man without seeming to study him. His gaze swept the table. “Anybody mind if I take a short break for a drink? I’m losin’ so bad, my mouth’s gone dry.” Ike took his cowboy hat off and put it over his small pile of money on the table. He smiled as he eyeballed the five other players, a couple nearly as worn-out looking as him. He tried to look relaxed as he scanned the saloon. A tenseness smothered the table, and the man across from him seemed to be the cause of it. A wooden stair led to rooms upstairs, but he guessed they weren’t for sleeping.

  The only one to respond was the rough-looking man across the table. “Looks like you could use a break, pardner. The drink’s on me. Least I can do.” His face wore more of a sneer than a smile as he flipped Ike a dime.

  Ike caught it and paused, squinting back at his adversary for a second. The man had a nasty gash that ran from his temple to his cheekbone. The red around it said it was fairly recent. Full, dirty brown mustache, hard black eyes.

  “Thanks, but I still got enough left for a whiskey. Pardner.” He held the cowhand with a steady stare as he tossed the coin back.

  The dealer knocked the dime off the table onto the floor, watching Ike all the while. “Now, I just offered to buy you a drink, mister, and you refused. Don’t seem very neighborly…friend.”

  Ike put his hands on the edge of the table, pushed his chair back and rose, never taking his eyes off the wrangler. He turned and headed for the bar. Three ragged cowboys were nursing whiskeys there. One looked up at him, gave him a quick once-over, and stepped aside. Ike held eye contact with them. Were these dusty boys riding with the dealer? The man probably had a lot of friends in here. The bartender was busy washing glasses on the other side of the bar.

  “Whiskey, please, barkeep.” Ike’s gaze crept up from the bartender to the long mirror behind the bar. He watched his poker mates in the mirror’s reflection as they sat at the table behind him. The banker was leaning toward the dealer and speaking in a hushed way. Ike couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  The bartender wiped down a shot glass with a dirty wet rag, filled it, and pushed it over to Ike. “That’ll be a dime, stranger. I ain’t seen you around here before, have I?”

  “Nope.” He fished a bullet out of his gun belt. “Would you take a .44 cartridge?”

  The bartender smiled. “Why, I guess I would, seein’ as how that’s why they call it a shot of whiskey. But you musta known that already. Say, how tall are you, anyway? My neck’d get a crick in it if I had to look up at you all day.”

  Ike glanced up at the mirror and studied the men at the table behind him again. He twirled his shot glass slowly in his right hand, his left hand empty.

  The bartender persisted. “Planning on stayin’ around here, are you?”

  “For a little while.” Ike scanned more of the room’s reflection.

  The man grabbed a wet rag and leaned into Ike while he wiped the bar in front of him. In a whisper, he said, “Then stay away from Kelly there, the one with the cut face. He’s a bad ’un. Don’t think I’d even play solitaire with him, much less poker. Those Emerald Valley boys are a black-hearted lot.”

  Ike perked up at the mention of the ranch. “Emerald Valley, huh? So this Kelly works out there?”

  “He doesn’t just work out there, he’s the top hand. Not much happens around here that he don’t know about.”

  Ike lifted his glass and downed his drink. “Thanks for the advice.” He turned back to the table with his left hand near his holster. Kelly had just won another hand and was pulling his winnings toward him with a contented scowl.

  Ike drew his chair out and sat back down at the table, wooden legs scraping hollowly against the wood floor. He tipped his hat back. “Why don’t we mix things up? How about if I deal for a while?” He grabbed the cards from the middle of the table and looked around at the others until his gaze settled on Kelly. “We’ll play any game you like. Even the five-card stud you’ve been so good at tonight, Mr. Kelly. That is your name, isn’t it?” A small smile creased Ike’s face. Kelly’s only response was a slight lifting of one eyebrow. “How would that be? That way, you can watch me the same way I’ve been watchin’ you. Might make things more interesting, don’t you think?”

  “Gimme the cards, mister.” Kelly held his hand out across the table and motioned for the deck with crooked, tobacco-stained fingers. “House rules is the man with the most money deals, and I got the most money, so hand me those cards, pardner.”

  “That doesn’t seem very neighborly…friend.” Ike put the cards down in front of him and leaned back in his chair, placing his fingertips together above the table.

  Kelly hesitated. “I’ll give you to the count of four to give me them cards.”

  Ike said, “Four? It’s usually to the count of three, isn’t it, Mr. Kelly? I never did hear of a count to four. Anyone else ever hear of a count to four?” He scanned the room, on the lo
okout for anyone else who might be watching them. “Why don’t we make it a count of three? Easier to remember, and we get there faster.” Ike still leaned back, his hands dropping from in front of his face down to the table.

  Kelly leaned toward Ike. “You ready to die over the deal, are you?” The room grew quiet, and a saloon girl behind Kelly moved away.

  “Don’t plan on dyin’. Not today, anyway.” Ike lowered his hands to the edge of the round tabletop.

  One of Kelly’s hands slid out of sight.

  Ike already knew what Kelly was reaching for. Before he sat, he’d cased the table for half an hour, moving first here, then there, so nobody would notice him.

  Ike squinted at his adversary. “If I were you, Mr. Kelly, I’d put my hand back up on the table.” Ike dropped his left hand to his lap, and now it lay lightly on his holster. He held Kelly with a steady gaze. “That’s a Kerr’s revolver you got your hand on now, isn’t it?”

  Kelly just glared at him.

  “Used by the Confederate cavalry, if I remember rightly.” Ike’s face brightened like he’d just had a great thought. “Say, were you a Johnny Reb?” Ike added a small smile, continuing to egg his foe on.

  Kelly still sat silently, his face twisting into an even more unpleasant scowl.

  Ike broke into an easy grin. “The Kerr’s a .36 caliber, right? Now, those were fair guns during the War, but seems like I remember they have a history of jammin’ up when you need them the most. Darndest thing. Saw some soldiers die because of it. It’d be a shame if yours did that to you right now.”

  Across the table Kelly’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and his gaze shifted from side to side.

  “Now, I’ve got a Colt .44. Old, but it has a real reliable mainspring. That was the problem with your gun, wasn’t it?” Ike returned Kelly’s ominous stare. “Don’t know that mine’s ever misfired…and I’ve given it a lot of chances to.” Ike’s hand tightened around his colt, and his meaning lay over the table like a black thunderstorm. Kelly’s glare shifted again, and a cowboy moved carefully off to his left. The man stopped when Ike fixed his gaze on him. Ike’s stare fell on another cowboy who’d just come in. Rob. He broke eye contact and turned back to Kelly. “Whaddya say we both put our hands back up on the table and play some more poker, all right?” Ike forced a smile. And waited.

  The banker chimed in suddenly. “That don’t sound like a bad idea, Dan. Why, this fella’s a newcomer to these parts, and he don’t know the rules.” The banker had both hands on the edge of the wooden table, squeezing. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. “Why don’t you let him deal a few hands? Won’t hurt nothin’, and he’s so far down it don’t matter any.” He looked at Kelly with pleading eyes.

  Kelly pushed at the table with one hand and balanced his chair on its two rear legs as he tilted back. He stared at Ike. Then he brought his other hand up from under the table, and with a venomous look said, “What’s your name, mister?”

  Ike smiled. “So we’re gettin’ to be friends now? Is that it?” He glanced around the room as he said it.

  Kelly’s face turned red. “I’ll ask just once more, what’s your name?”

  Ike smiled wider. “Porter.”

  “Porter what?”

  “Just Porter.”

  Kelly stared, then said, “Make sure you deal from the top of the deck, Porter.” His chair thudded back to the floor, and he picked up the Bowie knife that lay in front of him on the table. “Your deal.” Kelly thrust the large knife blade-first toward Ike, then drove it into the wooden table in front of him. It spoke volumes as it silently quivered.

  Ike brought his hand up from his lap. He shuffled the cards slowly, took a quick look around the room again, and started dealing. Still smiling. There was something on the back of some of the cards. They were roughed up in some way. He could feel it as the cards flew away from him. Not every card, only a few. No wonder he couldn’t figure out how the man was cheating; he couldn’t feel the rough spots until he dealt. He imagined those cards were all aces or kings.

  An hour later, Ike had recovered his losses and was even up a bit. Folding when he knew he was beat, and raising when he knew he wasn’t. He decided to push his luck. “Say, anybody know if that big ranch south of here is hiring? I’m lookin’ for work.”

  All eyes turned toward Kelly. He glared at Ike. “There ain’t no work for you around here. You best keep movin’ on, mister.”

  “I just thought with it bein’ a cattle ranch and all, and the fall roundup comin’ along, they might need some more help.”

  “We got all the help we need, mister. And nobody around here’s gonna hire a beat-up stranger like you anyway.”

  Ike’s smile disappeared. “So you’re part of the Emerald Valley?”

  Kelly leaned in toward Ike with a sneer on his face. “I’m not just part of the ranch, I’m the foreman. I do the hiring, and there’s no place for you there, or anywhere else.” He glanced around the room, and men looked down at the floor.

  Ike felt the blood rush to his head. His heart pounded, and his left hand twitched. It would be easy to silence this bully forever. But he’d just found out something new and decided Kelly might know more than he was letting on. He fingered the deck while his heartbeat slowed, and soon the cards flew around the table again.

  Kelly looked grimmer and grimmer as the hands piled up. “I don’t like the way you’re dealing, stranger. Give me those cards back. Now.” And he started to get up from his chair.

  Ike watched him. “Maybe I will. It’s time I had a good meal at Miss Lorraine’s anyway.” He let that slip on purpose. “Gents, nice playing with you.” He nodded to the other players, swept his money into his stained gray hat, and got up.

  Kelly scowled. “You don’t leave ’til I say you can. Sit back down while I deal.” He yanked the knife out of the wooden table in front of Ike and drove it into the table in front of him.

  “I said…I’m going now.” Ike fished his winnings out of his hat, stuffed the money in his pockets, and turned and limped toward the saloon’s swinging double doors.

  From behind him, a shot rang out. Noise echoed sharply through the small saloon. The bullet tore through Ike’s hat brim and thudded into a thick wooden beam above the entrance. His hat spun to the floor.

  Ike stopped. His heart raced, and his ears pounded. He forced the sounds of battle from his head. He balled his fists but didn’t turn around. The time wasn’t right yet. He was betting the cowhand wouldn’t shoot him in the back. If Kelly was who he thought he was, killing him now might mean he’d never find Sue. He reached down and picked his battered Stetson up. He brushed it off, put it back on, and kept walking, not slow, not fast. He pushed the double doors open, paused for a second, and disappeared into the cool evening air.

  Chapter Nine

  Ike figured he’d irritated enough people for one day. He took his time walking back to the boarding house, staying off the street and moving close to the buildings that lined it so he wouldn’t be an easy target for anyone. He wasn’t quite sure who that might be at this point, but he knew in his gut that Margaret Pinshaw knew more than she was letting on. He just didn’t know why she would be involved in Sue’s disappearance. There was one more person who could possibly shed light on that.

  He eased in quietly through the small house’s front door. The cat snuck in right behind him.

  “That you, Mr. Porter?” Lorraine called out from the parlor. “I figured so. I already heard about your day. You don’t waste much time rilin’ people up, do you?”

  Ike walked into the small front room. Lorraine was rocking in a chair, knitting something blue. “If you heard about my day, then you know why I’ve come to Cottonwood. What can you tell me about my sister?” He stood stiffly, looking down at her.

  “Sue Johnson, right?” Her needles click-clacked.

  Ike stared at her silently.

  “Just that she stayed here while she was in town. But I’m sure you figured that out already. Work
ed at The Sew Pretty. How’d you like meeting Margaret Pinshaw anyway?” Lorraine smiled a small smile.

  Ike felt a momentary flush, but his fury had faded. He ignored the comment.

  “Your sister and I got to be friends. I was sorry to see her go.”

  “Go? Go where?” He took his hat off and fingered the new hole in the brim.

  “Not sure, but I’ve heard some things about her up and leavin’.”

  Ike clenched his jaw. “You’re not gonna make me pull the story out of you, are you? ’Cause I will if I have to.”

  “Don’t mistake my talk, cowboy. I want to find out what’s happened to her too. I just don’t have much to go on. She was here for several months, and I grew to like her. She never mentioned that she was leavin’. Fact is, I don’t think she was plannin’ on it. All her stuff was still in her room. After she left, someone slipped in the next night and took her things. That was several weeks ago, and I haven’t seen her since.” She rocked back and forth.

  “Did you tell the sheriff?”

  “We haven’t got a real sheriff; all we have is Tucker. I told him, but he never came around here to check on anything I said.”

  “Did she seem upset about anything before she left?”

  “No, she was real even-tempered. Nothing seemed to ever bother her.”

  “Was there anyone she spent time with? A friend?”

  “She was very friendly, people around here took to her right away, but there wasn’t anyone in particular she kept company with.”

  Ike softened. “Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s just that nobody’s told me anything about Sue yet, and the longer she’s missing, the worse it is. And with winter comin’…” He didn’t finish the thought and paced across the small room.

  “Why don’t you tell me about her?” Lorraine paused, and a little flush spread up her neck. “By the way, I’m sorry about shootin’ at you the other night. Guess I was a little jumpy and all. There’s not many riders out at night hereabouts. Didn’t know who you were, and some strange things have happened around here lately. Go on now…if you would…tell me about Sue.”