“Teddy says I’m not.”
“What the hell does he know?”
“Don’t call me Teddy!” Teddy hollered.
“Your wife’s added a little something extry to these beans,” Dewey said. “They’s mighty tasty.”
“I’ll tell her you said so,” the barkeep replied, looking nervously first at Ted and then at Frank.
“I’ll have another mug of beer,” Frank said.
“You’ll talk to me!” Teddy almost yelled the words. “By God, I ain’t used to people ignorin’ me.”
“What would you like to talk about?” Frank asked the trouble-hunter. “You just pick a topic and we’ll have a good time discussing it.”
“Huh?” Teddy blurted out.
“The boy ain’t right in the head,” Dewey said.
“What’d you say about me, you old coot!” Teddy yelled.
“I said you was crazy,” Dewey told him.
“Crazy!” Teddy hollered. “You callin’ me crazy?”
“I can’t get over how good these beans is,” Dewey said. “I can taste the onions and the peppers. But they’s somethin’ else.”
“I’ll ask my wife,” the barkeep said.
“To hell with your damn beans!” Teddy said. “I ought to call both of you out.”
“Out where?” Dewey asked. “I like it in here. If you want to go outside and play in the sand, boy, you go right ahead.”
“Boy!” Teddy’s eyes bugged out. “You callin’ me a boy?”
“Not only is the boy ain’t right in the head,” Dewey remarked, “he can’t hear worth a damn neither.”
“I noticed that,” Frank said.
“That’s it!” Teddy said, stepping away from the bar. “By God, that does it.”
“Settle down, Ted,” the bartender warned.
“You shut up, Amos,” Ted said. “This ain’t none of your affair.”
“The hell it ain’t,” Amos said. “This is my place.”
“You any relation to Max Collins, Teddy?” Frank asked.
“That’s my pa.”
“Well, you come by the big mouth naturally then.”
“What?” Teddy yelled.
“You heard me, Teddy.”
“My pa’ll kill you! Whoever you are.”
“I told you who I am, Teddy. Now why don’t you run along and go tattle to Daddy?”
“Goddamn you!”
“Now, that’s no way for a nice young man to talk. Your daddy would be ashamed of you, Teddy.” Frank was moving ever closer to the angry young man. Max Collins’s son appeared not to notice.
“If my pa was here, he’d kill you!” Ted yelled.
“No, he wouldn’t, Little Teddy. He’s all mouth, just like you.” Frank was just about within swinging distance of Teddy.
“My pa?” Teddy said. “All mouth? My pa’s kilt dozens of men. And that ain’t countin’ Mexicans or Injuns.”
“Did he shoot them in the back, Teddy baby?”
“Teddy baby! Damn you, Morgan!”
“Oh. Now you believe I’m Frank Morgan?”
“So what if I do? Your name don’t mean crap to me.”
“Tell me something, Teddy baby. You reckon that horse of yours could find his way home all by himself?”
“Hell, yes, he could. Why do you ask something stupid like that?”
“Just curious, Teddy baby. Haven’t you ever been curious about anything?”
“Why are you crowdin’ me, Morgan?” Teddy just then noticed how close Frank was to him. “Huh? Why are you crowdin’ me?”
“So I can do this,” Frank said.
“Huh? Do what?”
Frank hit the young man square on the side of the jaw with a short hard left, then followed that with a right cross. Ted Collins hit the floor, out cold.
Dewey looked over the side of the bar at Teddy. “Now what are you goin’ to do with him?”
Frank smiled. “Oh, I think you’ll like it, Dewey.”
“You got that look in your eyes again, Drifter. That tell me you’re about to be up to no good.”
“I think Big Max is going to come to us. If I’m right, that will save us a lot of trouble.”
“Oh? And how are you gonna arrange that?”
Frank pointed to a man sitting at a table. “You know young Ted’s horse?”
“I sure do. Are you really Frank Morgan?”
“Yes. Go get his horse and bring it around back. Will you do that for me?”
“Sure. Right now.”
“Help me carry him out back, Dewey. This is going to be funny.”
“Might be to you. But I don’t think young Collins here is gonna see the humor in it.”
“I don’t think his daddy will either,” Frank replied.
“And you’re countin’ on that, right?”
Frank laughed. “You bet I am.”
Twenty-one
When Ted regained consciousness, he had been stripped naked and tied in the saddle . . . backward.
“You can’t do this to me!” Ted hollered.
“I just did it, Teddy,” Frank told him.
“I’ll be cooked time I get home!”
“You’re going to be well done, for a fact.”
“My pa will kill you for this!”
“Doubtful, Teddy baby. Real doubtful.”
“This ain’t decent!” Ted yelled.
“Neither is your pa,” Frank said as he led the horse up the alleyway toward the street.
“You can’t put me out on the street,” Ted squalled. “I’m buck-ass nekked.”
“You shore ain’t no sight for women to see, for a fact,” Dewey told him.
“You shut up, you damned old worthless coot!”
“Hey!” a citizen on the street yelled at glimpsing Ted. “Come see this, everybody.”
“Stop gawkin’ at me!” Ted hollered as a crowd began quickly gathering, the men and women laughing and pointing at him.
“That’s disgraceful,” a woman yelled.
“I think he’s sorta cute,” a soiled dove from a local sporting house remarked.
“You shut up, Maybelle!” Ted told the woman.
“You’re not going to be doing much pokin’ for a while,” Maybelle replied. “That sun’s gonna cook you . . . in places it ain’t never touched before.”
That brought a laugh from the crowd.
“That’s disgusting,” another local lady said.
“Here now!” a deputy yelled, pushing and shoving his way through the gathering crowd. “What the hell is going on here?” The sight of Ted Collins, buck-assed naked, tied backward in the saddle, brought the lawman up short. He stood for a few seconds, grinning. “Well, now, ain’t that a sight?”
“You get me down from here, Will,” Ted yelled.
“Who put you up there like that?” the deputy asked.
“I did,” Frank said.
“And who are you?” the deputy asked.
“Frank Morgan.”
The deputy opened his mouth, then abruptly closed it. He stared at Frank for a moment.
“Frank Morgan? The Frank Morgan?”
“I reckon so.”
“In Tucson?”
“Here I am.” Frank slapped the horse on the rump and said, “Go home, boy. Home!”
The horse galloped up the street. “Oh, hell!” Teddy hollered, swaying like a drunk man in the saddle.
* * *
“The deputy said it was an easy hour out to the ranch,” Frank said. “Say an hour and a half with Ted riding backward.” The men had bathed, Frank had gotten a haircut and shave, and both had changed into clean clothing. Frank looked at his watch. “He should be getting to the ranch about right now. Give Big Max an hour to look after his son and an hour to get into town. That should put him here about four-thirty.”
“I axed around whilst you was splashin’ in the tub and singing that song ’bout goin’ swimmin’ with bowlegged women,” Dewey said. “Nobody knows whatever become of Ted’s mother. She wasn’t with
Big Max when he come here and the boy don’t seem to know nothin’ ’bout her.”
“She either left him or he killed her,” Frank said.
“Either way, she’s better off.”
Julie and the girls were shopping, with Danny and Jerry in tow. Frank and Dewey were sitting in the shade on the boardwalk under the hotel awning. After his bath, Frank had carefully cleaned and oiled his Peacemaker.
“You gonna tote just that one gun?” Dewey asked.
“That’s all I figure I’ll need.”
“Well, I’ll be close by when Big Max shows up. Now, you know he ain’t gonna ride in here all by his lonesome, don’t you?”
“I figure he’ll bring some company.”
“Yeah,” Dewey said dryly. “Like maybe a small army.”
“I don’t think so, Dewey. Way I hear it, Big Max is a proud man with a big reputation. He’ll probably bring a few boys in with him for insurance, but he’ll want to face me alone, either with fists or guns.”
“He’s a big man, Frank. And I’m told he’s killed men with his fists.”
Frank looked at the old mountain man. “So have I, Dewey.”
* * *
It was a quarter of five when Big Max Collins rode into town, accompanied by six tough-looking men. One of the riders spotted Frank and Dewey sitting on the boardwalk and the group reined up in front of the hotel. Big Max sat his horse for a moment, staring at Frank.
“You Frank Morgan?” Max asked.
“That’s me. And you must be the man who likes to kidnap and rape little girls, Max Collins.”
“That’s a damn dirty lie!” Max said.
“No, it isn’t, Max. Some of the men who worked for Val Dooley told me all about your part in the kidnapping and raping of young girls and women.”
“Then they lied!”
“I tell you what, Max. Why don’t you and me go visit the county sheriff and then we’ll all take a ride out to your ranch and look around? And when we go visit the sheriff, we’ll take along some of the girls kidnapped during one of the raids up north of here. How about that?”
“I’ll kill you, Morgan,” Max hissed.
“Have at it, Big Mouth . . . ah . . . Big Max.”
“Maybe I will.”
Frank stood up. “Let’s have it, Max.”
“But I think I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp and then kill you.”
“You can try, Max.”
Big Max Collins stepped down from the saddle. Frank took that opportunity to size him up.
Big Max was big, for a fact. A couple of inches taller than Frank and no fat on the man. All muscle and bone.
“You want your ass-whuppin’ right here in the street, Morgan?”
“You want to try to do it right here in the street, Big Mouth?”
Big Max cussed Frank and charged up the steps to the boardwalk. Frank stepped forward and busted the bigger man right in the mouth with a hard right fist. Big Max sailed off the steps and landed in the street in the dirt, flat on his back. Frank was after him instantly. Max stumbled to his feet and Frank hit him again, this time on the side of the jaw. The blow knocked Max to his knees. Max grabbed up a handful of dirt and flung it at Frank. But Frank had anticipated that, and sidestepped the cloud of dust.
Max got to his feet, cussing Frank. Frank smiled at him and said, “What’s the matter, Max? I thought you were a fighter.”
Max cussed him again and came in swinging.
Frank stepped to one side and buried his right fist in the big man’s belly. The air whoosed out of Max and he staggered backward, his face turning chalk white under his tan. Frank pressed him, swinging lefts and rights that connected and hurt Max. A trickle of blood leaked from Big Max’s mouth and nose. Frank threw a short hard left that caught Max flush on the nose and flattered it. The blood began to pour out of Max’s busted beak.
Enraged, Max charged Frank and caught him in a bear hug. “Kill you!” Max gasped. “Crush the life out of you.”
Frank lashed back with a boot, sinking a spur into Max’s leg. Max howled in pain, loosening his bear hug. Frank slipped away and turned. He busted Max on the side of the head with a right fist. Blood began leaking from a mangled ear. Frank didn’t let up. He hit Max twice in the face, a left and right, the blows glazing Max’s eyes. Frank slammed a hard fist to Max’s mouth, pulping the man’s lips.
Max backed up, shaking his head.
Out of the corner of his eye, Frank observed two lawmen standing in the crowd, watching and smiling as Max got the crap beat out of him. Obviously, Big Max Collins was not the best-liked man in town.
Max staggered toward Frank, swinging both fists that hurt when they connected with Frank’s arms and shoulders. Hurt, but did no real damage.
Frank stepped back, planted his boots firmly in the dirt, and knocked Max down with a right to the bigger man’s jaw. Max struggled to his feet and Frank hit him again. Big Max’s eyes seemed to roll back in his head and the big man sighed and slumped to the street, out cold.
“Whooee!” a man yelled. “That there was some fight. Best I’ve seen in years.”
“Damn sure was,” another local said.
Frank reached down into a horse trough and splashed double handfuls of water on his face. Big Max wheezed into the dirt, out cold.
“Drag him over to my office,” a man in a dark suit said. “I’ll check him out and set that broken nose.” He looked at Frank. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Frank said.
Well, you’re either very good or very lucky,” the doctor said. “As far as I know, that’s the first time Max Collins has been bested in a bare-knuckle fight. What’s your name, mister?”
“Frank Morgan.”
The doctor stared. “Are you serious?” he asked.
“I reckon so.”
The doctor stepped closer and peered at Frank. “By God, it is you. A friend of mine sent me a copy of a magazine a few months ago that had an article about you in it, along with a picture. The article wasn’t very flattering.”
“I stopped reading them a long time ago.”
“Are you aware that you strongly resemble the outlaw Val Dooley?”
“So I’ve been told, Doc.”
Big Max Collins groaned and broke wind.
“Charming fellow,” the doctor said.
“Isn’t he, though?”
“How are your hands, Mr. Morgan?”
Frank flexed his fingers a few times. “They’re all right. I have good hands, Doc.”
Big Max moaned again.
“I told some of you people to get him over to my office. Now do it!” the doctor snapped. “Right now.”
Four of Big Max’s hands picked him up and toted him off.
“I’m sure he isn’t hurt too badly,” the doctor said. “I don’t think you could hurt that man with an ax.”
“I’ll probably have to kill him after this,” Frank said.
“That will not be any great loss to society.”
Frank smiled. “We sure agree on that.”
“If your hands start bothering you, soak them in hot salt water. But I’m sure you already know that.” The doctor smiled. “Quite an enjoyable fight, Mr. Morgan. I’ll see you around town, I’m sure.”
“See you, Doc.”
The crowd broke up and Dewey walked over to Frank. “You’ve studied some boxing, my boy.”
“Some, for a fact.”
“I bet Big Max ain’t had a whuppin’ like that since he was a boy.”
“Probably not. But killing comes next.”
“That gonna bother you?”
“To put lead in someone like Big Max? No,” Frank said flatly.
“Didn’t figure it would. Where’s Miss Julie and the girls?”
“Still resting, I guess. And you can bet Danny isn’t too far away from Susan.”
“That boy’s in love, shore nuff. But so’s Susan.”
“They’ll make it. I mentioned to Julie about them taking a train and getting cl
ear of this situation.”
“And her reply?”
“She told me what I could do with my suggestion.”
“Wagh!” Dewey snorted. “I wish I could have been there to hear that.”
“It was blunt,” Frank admitted.
“I’m shore it was. So Miss Julie and the kids is in for the long haul?”
“Looks that way.”
“Speakin’ of looks, them hands of Collins is shore givin’ us a hard look.”
“I see them. But I don’t think they’re going to do anything. Max wants his revenge personally.”
“I thought they was six of ’em rode in with Big Max?” Dewey questioned.
“There was.”
“So where’s the sixth man?”
“Probably hightailing it back to the ranch to warn the others.”
“So . . . where does that leave us?”
“Following their trail, I reckon.”
“You figured this would happen, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I think Max was probably warned, by coded telegraph, when we pulled out of Phoenix. Certainly he was warned after the fight at the old fort.”
“So you think the girls have already been moved ’crost the border?”
“I doubt it, Dewey. I’ve been mulling over what Colonel Clayton said to us. I think the army’s had their eye on Big Max for some time. That’s just a hunch, mind you, but it’s a strong one.”
“Makes sense to me.”
“I think the girls are still on this side of the border. Maybe they’ve been moved north, maybe they’ve been moved over into New Mexico. I want to talk to the sheriff here; some of his deputies. I have to think they had at least a suspicion of what was going on.”
“You’d think so.”
Frank stood up from the chair and stretched.
“You goin’ somewheres?” Dewey asked.
“I have to take care of some important business.”
“Like what?”
Frank smiled. “Feeding Dog.”
Twenty-two
Yes, the deputy had told Frank and Dewey. His office had been keeping as close an eye as they could on Max Collins for some time.
“And?” Frank had pressed him.
The deputy had shrugged his shoulders and replied, “It’s hard to do anything when the subject under suspicion has a local judge in his pocket.”
“I figured as much,” Frank said.
“This judge won’t be in office much longer,” the deputy said. “He was appointed and his appointment is about to be jerked out from under him. He’ll be damn lucky if he isn’t run out of town on a rail. Or lynched,” the deputy added. He looked at Frank. “You want to press some charges against Max Collins? I would just love to arrest that arrogant, bigmouthed bastard . . . and to have him resist would be the stuff dreams are made of.”
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