by Tony Masero
‘That’s the one.’
‘Why, he’s gone. Heard he moved on to Galveston or maybe it was New Orleans, can’t remember which.’
‘Kinda sudden, wasn’t it? Right after the Colonel goes missing.’
Jacob raised his eyebrows and plucked at his lower lip between finger and thumb. ‘I guess. Must say I never paid it much heed but now you mention it, it does seem a mite odd at that.’
‘So what kind of man was he?’
‘Charlie? He was your average sort of clerk, sort of guy you’d never notice if you past him in the street. Small fellow,’ Jacob paused to consider his description. ‘Always neatly dressed with a stiff collar and tie. Used to center part his hair and slick it down with pomade. Smelt real fine, I recall.’
‘Is that it?’
Jacob took a pull on his beer. ‘Yes, can’t think of more. We was never close, you understand. Oh, I do remember that there was talk of him visiting one of the girls here regular. Most folks thought that strange, him being such an upright sort of fellow and being so close to the Colonel.’
‘Which girl, do you know?’
‘Can’t say I do. The whores here are all much of a muchness to me these days. They get used up pretty fast in this place and then I see them over in Kelly’s establishment all laid out pale, wasted and dead and the interest kinda dies along with them. Besides I ain’t got the energy or inclination any more.’
Slade pondered on that for a moment and wondered what that such a condition might feel like, as he certainly wasn’t looking forward to the day such a state might exist for himself. He had always been a randy sort of fellow with a strong hankering for the ladies and a willingness to dip his wick where he might. In fact it had often gotten him into trouble just as it had in Julesville.
‘Okay, thanks Jacob. I guess that’s all.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Jacob, getting to his feet. ‘You sure I can’t get you anything, Marshal?’
‘No, thanks. I’m kinda on the wagon.’
‘Oh,’ said Jacob with a smile. ‘That’ll be hard coming in here with.’
Slade nodded, ‘You’ve got that right.’
‘I’ll be seeing you, Marshal.’
‘Sure and keep our conversation to ourselves, if you will.’
‘No problem.’
When he was gone, Slade sat a moment going over the facts in his mind. The noise and bustle of the saloon sinking into a dull background wash of sound that did not intrude as he formulated what he knew. Everything seemed to hinge on the papers that Causter had given to Rio and his boys. He still had heard nothing from Sheriff Smith on that score and he determined he would pay another visit to the office.
The idea of the disappearing clerk played on his mind. It was another thread and he thought he would dearly like to know where the man had gone and why he left so suddenly. His involvement in some way seemed certain but without a clue to his whereabouts it was a dead end.
Then there was the missing boy. Slade could not think but that the child was either dead or carried off and there seemed little chance of ever discovering which.
‘Thought it wouldn’t be long before you found your way in here,’ said the cynical voice of Jane Lowry behind him.
‘Hello, Jane,’ he said, turning in his seat. ‘How’s it working out?’
Jane shrugged, ‘Can’t say yet, this is my first turn tonight. You need something? I’m supposed to wait on table.’
‘No,’ Slade answered.
‘You sure?’ Jane asked doubtfully. ‘Maybe you already had one with that old timer I saw you with earlier.’
‘No, Jane. I ain’t had one; Jacob and I had some business to attend to that’s all. I ain’t in here for a drink.’
She arched an eyebrow and pouted her lower lip. ‘Is that a fact then?’
‘It is. There is one thing you can do for me though.’
‘Which is?’
‘A clerking fellow used to come in here. Name of Charlie Willows. He visited regular with one of the girls, can you find out which one for me?’
Jane chewed on her lip a moment. ‘You sure you ain’t had a drink?’ she asked.
‘Lady, I quit. Remember? Now will you find out about the girl for me?’
Jane frowned and looked at him closely. ‘Okay,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ll ask around.’
‘I’m obliged,’ Slade said, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. ‘Good night then Jane.’
‘Jack,’ she said, laying a hand on his arm. ‘I spoke harsh to you in the street. I’m sorry for that.’
Slade shrugged, ‘You said what you had to, that’s your affair. Forget it.’ Before she could say more, he disengaged her hand and turned and strode off through the crowd.
Jane watched him go with a worried frown furrowing her brow; she was wondering whether she had in fact misjudged Jack Slade after all. Then a bellow from an irate bartender brought her back to earth and she hurried off to take another table order.
Jack pushed his way out of the saloon and stood a moment on the darkened boardwalk. He was angry and disappointed, he wanted to go back in and sweep Jane up in his arms and carry her away from the prospect of the night’s iniquity. It was a hard thing to resist doing but she had made her choice and had chosen to rebut his advances and preferred to let herself be used by any buckaroo with a hard on. It offended him and he drew a deep breath to settle himself before stepping off the boardwalk with the intention of heading back to the hotel.
The scuttling sound of metal falling came from the alley next to the saloon. It was dark in the alley and Slade could see nothing in the shadows, thinking a cat had knocked over a trashcan he turned to go when another heavier crash came from the depths of the alley.
He heard a grunt and a soft cry. Hand on his pistol he moved into the alley.
‘Anybody there?’ he called. ‘Deputy Marshal here. Sing out if you can.’
‘Sure, I’ll sing out.’ Slade noted the whisper off his left shoulder just before the bat hit him.
He heard its whistle through the air and it drove in hard on his shoulder and spun him away to crash into the slatted boards of the saloon’s sidewall. Another bat slammed into his back, striking him broadly across neck and shoulder. A wooden pole poked him in the stomach and doubled him over and as a length of hardwood cracked across the back of his knees and dropped him to the ground.
Dazed and barely conscious, Slade knelt there as his attackers delivered a solid pounding. He felt his face slammed sideways as a swinging blow nearly lifted his head from his shoulders. Another struck the back of his head and he felt himself sliding into blackness.
‘You bastard!’ he heard the cursing voice crack out along with each strike. ‘I’ll make you pay. You fucking piece of shit. You won’t see tomorrow’s dawn that’s for sure.’
Vaguely, Slade recognized the voice of Rio Palmer. It was payback time and the gunman was determined to finish him.
He laid himself down and curled into a ball as they continued to beat and kick at him.
Through the haze he heard the cry from the alley mouth. ‘Hey! What are you men about? Who’s that you’re beating on?’
‘Shut your face and mind your business,’ Rio called in answer.
‘Over here!’ the voice shouted into the street. ‘There’s murder taking place.’
Slade heard an answering collection of voices approaching from Main Street and he sensed Rio backing away.
‘Come on, Rio. We’d best leave it.’ Slade recognized Ben Raymond’s voice.
‘He ain’t dead yet.’ That was Tole Defford’s sullen observation.
‘Help! Help!’ the man at the alley mouth shouted. ‘Murder!’
A shuffle of noise and the sound of running feet as Rio and the others made off down the far end of the alley was the last sound Slade heard before darkness enclosed him.
Slade dragged himself slowly back into consciousness.
Had he been on a drunk, he wondered? He felt raw and batter
ed and there was the iron taste of stale blood in his mouth. The light was dim and one eye only saw blackness. Where was he? In a room somewhere but he did not recognize it. So many times he had awoken in such a state over the past years it did not particularly worry him, but the pain in his back and the singing buzz in his head did.
He tried to move. To drag himself up, but the acres of pain that shot through him froze him still again.
‘Oh, my God!’ he gasped in agony, his voice a mumble through swollen lips.
‘Here,’ he heard a voice say. ‘Lie still. You want some water?’
It was Jane. She came into the view of his good eye and he thought she looked like an angel with the light from the kerosene wall lamp behind shining a halo through her hair.
‘Water?’ he croaked. ‘Yeah, sure.’
She carefully ladled water into his mouth with a spoon. ‘Take it easy,’ she whispered. ‘There, that’s it.’
Slade felt the cleansing draught going down his ravaged throat and the memories came back with it. The dark alleyway and the beating by Rio and his boys.
‘Argh!’ he choked. ‘Enough. Where am I?’
‘You’re in my room in the saloon. They brought you in from the street. Jack, they beat you up real bad.’
‘What’s the matter with my eye, I can’t see anything through it.’
‘The Doc said it’s full of blood and swollen shut, he reckons it’ll clear itself in a few days. You’re lucky you ain’t dead, Jack.’
‘I look a mess, huh?’
She didn’t answer but her silence assured him that he must look awful.
Slade tried to flex his fingers and felt the pain shoot up his arm. He realized they must have stamped down on his hands. Slowly he did an inventory of the rest of his limbs. Mostly his legs felt okay and it was obvious that they had concentrated their attention on his upper body. His shoulders, arms and torso burned like hell and his head felt like it belonged to somebody else.
‘Maybe I should try and make it back to the hotel now,’ he said. ‘Get myself out of your way.’
‘You do and you’ll fall right over,’ Jane said with a soft laugh. ‘There’s no way you’re moving, buster. The Doc says you’re not to even think of it. Let the body do it’s healing, that’s what he said.’
‘But its kind of an imposition,’ Slade managed. He felt tired now, the humming ache that ran through his body was exhausting him and the urgent desire to sleep enveloped him.
‘Don’t think on that,’ said Jane. ‘You just get yourself well.’
He was not sure but he thought he felt her cool hand on his forehead.
‘They sure beat you bad,’ she repeated sadly.
He was convinced she had a jerk in her voice, almost as if she was crying but his eyelids were too heavy and he was finding it hard to keep awake any longer.
‘I think I misjudged you, Jack Slade.’
Then blissful sleep carried the pain away and he sunk into a warm place where nothing but the memory of those kind words intruded.
He awoke the next morning with her lips on his.
She was kissing him gently, her mouth brushing his. The wall lamp was still alight even though sunlight came in through the window and he knew then that she had stayed with him all night long.
‘You really want to start this?’ he asked huskily, reminding her of an earlier conversation that hadn’t ended so well.
‘Maybe I do,’ she said, pulling away.
‘Don’t go, ‘ he said, trying to reach out for her but pain shot up his arm as he did so.
‘I think I got you wrong, Jack,’ she admitted as she laid a cool wet cloth on his forehead. ‘You mumbled stuff whilst you slept. I guess you had a fever but its played itself out now.’
‘Ah, dammit! What did I say?’
‘Things about a girl called Joanna and how you wronged a friend.’
Slade drew a deep breath. ‘I did,’ he admitted pensively. ‘It was a bad thing. I ain’t forgiven myself for it. I was wilder then, more mean and full of myself. Nowadays I don’t like how I was then.’
‘That sounds like an improvement.’
‘I sure hope so. Does this mean you might look more kindly on a reprieved drunk now?’
‘It does,’ she admitted. ‘Do you want to tell me about that thing in Julesville?’
‘Not now, maybe some day. Just put it down as I did a wrong to a lady. Her man doesn’t know the truth of it and never shall. She was a fine girl and I took her against her will when her heart was lost to a boy that became a good friend to me.’
‘Seems you did no worse than most men I’ve met.’ There was a touch of bitterness in her voice as she said it.
‘Well that was then and now is different. What made it particularly bad is that their first child could be mine and her husband don’t know it.’
‘Maybe that’s best.’
‘It is. I was a wretch and I paid for it. Couldn’t stand being around them afterwards. It near drove me crazy, so I gave up this haulage company I owned and moved out. Almost ran, it was so bad a feeling.’
‘How is it you came to take such a thing so sorely?’
Slade sighed, ‘I don’t know. Maybe it was a thing of dishonor. A trust broken, a cold bullying mean thing to do. I’m really not sure but it cut me deep and the only way that I could stop thinking of it was to bury my head in a bottle.’
She sat on the edge of the bed and took his bandaged hand in hers, studying the fingers carefully. ‘I’m glad you told me,’ she said.
Slade still heard Joanna’s voice ringing in his head – You can do it! – that’s what she had said. Still he did not know if it had been a challenge to his fumbling or a cry to urge him on. It bothered him. Had she meant him to take her or had she been boldly daring him to even attempt such an act. It didn’t much matter any longer. He had had his way with her whatever she had wished in truth. He had raped a virgin girl and tainted her for her beau. Poor Johnny. He was sure Joanna would never say a word of the truth of it to him but it still sat badly with Slade. What manner of person could he have been then, he wondered. A poor excuse for a man that was for sure.
‘I’m a bad man, Jane. It could be you were right to turn me off,’ he admitted solemnly.
She shook her head determinedly. ‘No, I don’t think so. Not any more I won’t. If you still want me, I’ll come along of you now. I’ll be with you, Jack, as long as you stay off the liquor.’
‘You’ve got your own story to tell there as well, I expect.’
She nodded agreement but did not expand in explanation.
‘Sure, I want you,’ he went on. ‘I think I always will. I’ll stay off the liquor as long as you quit the whoring job in this damned saloon.’
‘Of course I will,’ she said, encompassing him gently in her arms and resting her cheek softly against his. ‘You’ll be my only customer from now on,’ she promised it in a fervent whisper close to his ear.
After a moment she said, ‘You asked me to get you the name of another woman?’
Slade was lost for a moment. Another woman? What can she mean? Hell, he’d just managed to get this one. Then it came back to him. Charlie Willows and his regular squeeze here in the Cool House.
‘Lucy Blazer. She’s the girl you want.”
‘Not right now,’ Slade managed as he forced his arm to respond and wrapped it around her, drawing Jane near despite the pain it caused him. ‘I got my hands full already.’
Chapter Eight
‘Well, you got into a fair old shit storm, didn’t you?’
It was Garrett standing by his bedside and looking down at him with a half-smile.
‘I didn’t start anything that didn’t need it.’
‘Hell, boy. You look like the heavens fell on you. Sheriff Smith is all hot and bothered, says you punched out his precious deputy. Pack of duds they were anyway, far as I’m concerned. Sitting around on their butts all day playing tough. Seems that now the three of them have lit out and gone to the
bad. Word is they’ve joined up with the Kid’s gang.’
‘That’s a real shame,’ Slade growled. ‘I’ve a bone to pick with those three.’
‘I’ll say,’ agreed Garrett. ‘Anyways, I’m here with a posse from over in White Oaks and I’m leaving off Bob Ollinger and Jimmy Bell to help out the sheriff in town. You find out any more about the missing prosecutor before this happened?’
‘I’m still working on it. One thing you should know though, it seems that the Kid often turns up at the Causter ranch, next door to where I found the body. Gets himself a free meal and so on. Could be a place to stake out.’
Garrett nodded, ‘I’ll take that under advisement. Pesky fellow’s making a real nuisance of himself. We almost caught the son-of-a-bitch up at Coyote Springs but he slipped away. Damned it if he didn’t make it off on foot too.’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘Come to think on it, if he heads north towards Salazar Canyon he’ll be right near to Causter’s place. I reckon I’ll take the posse out there on the way back to White Oaks and take a looksee.’
‘Then I’m coming with you,’ said Slade, throwing back the covers and sliding his legs out of the bed.
‘You sure you can ride?’ asked Garrett doubtfully.
‘I can make it. I’ve been lying here for three days now and I might be the color of a bruised fruit but it looks worse than it feels.’
‘How about that eye of yours?’
‘Swellings going down and I can see a little better out of her now. Don’t worry I can shoot with one eye alright.’
Slade sat on the edge of the bed and collected his thoughts. He felt a little dizzy but shook of the sensation and looked around for his clothes.
‘Pass me my pants, will you?’ he asked.
Just then Jane came in with the two mugs of coffee she had been preparing for them and frowned in annoyance. ‘Hell’s Bells, Jack. What do you think you’re about? You can’t get up yet awhile, Doc said at least another week or two.’
‘I’ve been laying here long enough,’ Slade growled, shoving his legs into his pants. ‘There’s things to do.’
She handed Garrett a cup, ‘Can’t you do anything, Pat?’ she asked. ‘The stupid ass can barely see straight.’