West of the Big River: Boxed Set of Eight Western Novels

by James Reasoner

  Having never experienced such social contact, at first Lance remained reticent. Then the influence of alcohol, a tremendous amount indulged, began to affect him, even with his huge frame. It loosened his tongue as drink always will, and he began to partake in snappy repartee for the first time in his life. Given his enormous size, the men gave him the deference he was due. These were the very same men who had seen the young man fling Bulldog, the foreman, off the dock as if he were a ragdoll.

  "You weasel!" raved Lance. "Deal me a good hand or I'll bruise your liver!"

  Fast Eddy stared at his new friend with admiration and a bit of fear. By his own count the young man had drunk fifteen beers and yet he was still able to sit, talk, and play poker. Another man, including himself, would be under the table with that amount of alcohol consumed. Lance claimed he had never played poker in his life, but within a couple hours the young man seemed to absorb and comprehend the nine different possible hands a player can hold, from a royal flush, down to a single high card.

  "This game's kind of fun," exclaimed Lance, pulling in another hand of pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters.

  "Lance," said one of the card players. "If you never played before, how come you're winning so darned much?"

  "Why this game's simple, once a feller figures out what it takes to win."

  "Tell us what that is?" asked one of the dockworkers, sitting at the table.

  "You boys know it's just not what a feller's holding, but how he plays 'em," replied Lance, and then he winked as he swayed slightly from the effects of alcohol. "Bartender! Buy everyone in the joint a beer!"

  "Lance!" exclaimed Fast Eddy. "You're spending all your winnings. You'll need some of that for food and rent."

  "No problem," replied Lance. "I'll just win a few more hands and then we'll go. The smoke in this joint is killing me."

  Lance was right. Between cigarettes, pipes, cigars, and emissions from the burning lanterns, the air was blue with drifting smoke.

  "Thank God for the bad air," said Fast Eddy. "I thought you were going to stay all night. We have to get up and go to work tomorrow."

  Lance was coughing, his lungs reacting to the smoky assault they received. They went back to the apartment and he was asleep the second he stretched out on the blanketed floor.

  * * *

  In the morning they awoke and had boiled eggs and coffee and were at the docks at the crack of dawn. Fast Eddy kept looking but could see no effects of the night before on his large friend. The big young man did not seem to suffer from the alcohol or the limited sleep. As Fast Eddy predicted, Lance was hired on the spot and all day long the two labored with other dockworkers to load and unload the large steam packets that came to port.

  They worked the remainder of the week and on Saturday they quit at four. They cleaned up in their rented room and went to a restaurant for supper.

  "How do you feel?" asked Fast Eddy.

  "I'm not tired, if that's what you mean," said Lance.

  "At six, I'll take you to the docks and introduce you to Miss Lilly and Big Mississippi."

  "Who are they?"

  "They run the fights around here and plenty of other deals. You don't get to fight unless they say so."

  "How much will I get for a fight?" asked Lance.

  "You box for free and ten dollars if you win against all comers. Since I'm your manager, I'm in for ten percent."

  "Ten percent?"

  "Yeah, since I'm setting this up, I get ten percent of what you earn," said Fast Eddy.

  "I'm doing the fighting. Why should you get anything?"

  "I'm not cheating you," protested Eddy. "Managers always get ten percent. That's how it works."

  At six they walked toward the docks and before they came to the water there were several warehouses. They stopped before two large buildings which created a long narrow space and men were gathered smoking and talking. There was a table set up, and an attractive woman sat behind it, collecting a twenty-five cent admission fee and taking bets on the main event which was advertised on a poster.

  "Miss Lilly," began Fast Eddy, laying down fifty cents. "Meet Lance. He would like to fight in the open bare-knuckle event."

  Miss Lilly looked up, caught one glance of the giant and rose to her feet. Smiling, she put out a hand for the tall young man to shake.

  "Well," said Miss Lilly, "it's been a long time since Fast Eddy has brought such a specimen as you . . ."

  "Spe-ci-men?" asked Lance.

  "Fighter," explained Miss Lilly. "You are a fighter?"

  "I've been in fights all my life," replied Lance. "I've used my fist but mostly I'm a wrestler."

  "There's no wrestling allowed," said Miss Lilly. "Fists only, known as bare knuckle and skull. Fast Eddy, you didn't bring a wrestler to a boxing match?"

  "Maybe I did," replied Eddy. "But I guarantee you he won't have any trouble defending himself. Meet the feller who threw Bulldog Warner off the docks."

  "So!" exclaimed Lilly, her eyes lighting up. "Fast Eddy, take him over to Big Mississippi and tell him what you told me. Lance gets the first fight on the dock. If he's that good, he ought to beat all comers and win the purse."

  "What about next week?" asked Eddy.

  "You know the answer to that. He has to build a reputation before he can get a big fight."

  Fast Eddy took Lance to a crowd of men. The biggest of them was a man dressed in a black suit and wearing a wide-brimmed hat. He was six feet tall, and with huge chest, arms, and legs, and even a larger belly. He stood talking in a booming voice. The men stopped to eye the newcomer, and Fast Eddy introduced Lance to Big Mississippi.

  "Seldom I meet a man bigger than me," said the promoter. "Can you fight, boy?"

  "I'm not your boy," replied Lance.

  The big-bellied man grinned, showing large coffee-stained teeth, and put out a hand to shake. Lance stared at it, and both knew what would come next. The younger man spread his feet for balance and then extended his right. The two grasped hands and Big Mississippi did not release his grip but instead increased it. Face to face, Lance towered three inches over the larger and older man with the wide girth. They stood toe-to-toe in a hand squeezing contest. Fast Eddy and the crowd of men took immediate interest and as seconds passed, the hand crushing continued. The men began to cheer for their man of choice. The majority took the side of Big Mississippi. Fast Eddy and a few others sided with Lance.

  "Crush him!" called the men.

  "Get him, Mississippi !"

  "You can beat him, Lance!" called Fast Eddy.

  As the grips of the two adversaries increased, the men began to see sweat start to drip from the face of the fight promoter. There appeared to be no indication of pain on the younger man's visage. Then Big Mississippi cried out.

  "Stop!"

  Lance immediately lessened his grip and the two big men released their clenched hands.

  "Big Mississippi," said Fast Eddy, grinning ear to ear. "Meet the lad that threw Bulldog Warner off the dock."

  "I was wondering when you would come around," said Big Mississippi. "I see the story wasn't exaggerated. First time I've ever been beat. What did Miss Lilly say?"

  "She said Lance would take the first fight in the open bare-knuckle."

  "Right," said Big Mississippi. "At least now I know which way to bet. Get your man ready, we start right at seven."

  The boxing match was a crude affair where two fighters were surrounded by spectators as they fought bare-knuckle, no rounds, no time out, to the end. Lance was introduced and men cheered. His opponent was a dockworker with the nickname Fire Jack. Jack was a solid barrel of a man with massive arms and bulging biceps. He was bald and a foot shorter than Lance. But then, most men were. Jack came at Lance and threw a quick series of punches, one which made solid contact with Lance's chin, before the big man stepped back.

  "Put up your fists!" yelled Fast Eddy. "Protect yourself!"

  Lance ignored the advice and Fire Jack came at Lance once again with a series o
f lefts and rights. The smaller fighter got inside Lance's waving arms and open hands and made a series of thumping blows to the big man's body. Then Lance doubled up a right hand and in a windmill motion circled his arm and the big fist came down onto the top of Fire Jack's head. He fell unconscious as if struck with a sledgehammer.

  Members of the crowd cheered or booed depending on which way their bets went. Fast Eddy rushed in and pulled Lance from the crowd.

  "How did I do?" asked Lance, grinning widely.

  "You don't know a thing about boxing, do you?"

  "No."

  "First off, keep your fists clenched and at face level. That will protect you. You punch with fists and you try for the chin, not the top of the head."

  "I knocked him out, didn't I?"

  "Yes, but this is a boxing match, not a free-for-all. The men will call foul and want their bets back. You watch the next fight and see how it's done and then copy the winner."

  Lance did as Eddy instructed and he was a keen observer. The two men fighting were of equal height and weight. One had his shirt off and exposed rippling muscles, a tight gut, and huge biceps. The other man seemed flabbier and with a bulging belly. The two exchanged punches to the face and to the body, and the muscular man seemed faster. Lance watched each fighter take a boxing stance, left foot forward, right foot behind, both hands clenched, elbows bent, left fist leading, followed by the right. He watched the rhythm of it, and one man punched three times with a left and then followed it with a hooking right.

  It was not only the fighting that Lance noticed but the enthusiasm of the crowd. He saw Miss Lilly, her face flushed with excitement. Her appearance was distorted with the brutal desire to see mayhem. This made the lines of her face change and she was no longer beautiful, but now appeared twisted and ugly. Looking at other visages in the crowd, Lance saw similar bloodthirsty grimaces. He came to a sudden realization that these people did not care about the boxers at all. They wanted to see both men destroy each other and if it was not for the betting, they would not even favor one boxer over the other.

  As soon as I win a little money, I'll quit this game, thought Lance. I have no liking to pound or hurt any man just for money.

  Lance went back to watching the fighters. The two men threw punches and many were blocked by the left forearm and then the opponent would throw a wicked right. The muscular man threw a right fist and it made contact with the other boxer's flabby belly. The slower fighter stepped back and threw a right of his own and the muscular man was struck squarely in the chin and he went down, out cold. Lance could see it was not always the strongest who won a fight, but who placed the best blow.

  The next fight was between Lance and a fellow named Iron George. This man took off his shirt and exposed rippling muscles. The fight was announced by Big Mississippi and he shouted out the name Windmill Lance as the opponent. Lance stepped out, surrounded by shouting voices and a ring of excited men. The other boxer threw a bare left, once, twice, three times, and Lance stepped back and one blow struck air, another his left fist, and the third touched his chin. Then Iron George stepped in and followed with a right and Lance parried it with his left arm and struck hard with his right into the other man's chin. The smack of the punch resounded loudly above the shouting voices and Iron George fell backwards, hitting the ground hard. The fight was over before it had barely started. The crowd booed in unison.

  "You learn real fast," shouted Fast Eddy, smiling ear to ear. "Never seen it done more perfect."

  There were two more open fights scheduled before the main event, with Lance taking on the winner. Lance stood above everyone in the crowd when Big Mississippi approached him, a sour grimace upon the fight promoter's face.

  "I'd say you finished that fight off too quick. You made it look easy. One fight you appeared liked a wrestler who didn't know what he was doing and the second fight, like a professional. Anyway, after seeing you work, the other four men quit. You win the purse tonight."

  Big Mississippi handed Lance a ten dollar coin.

  "What happens next Saturday?" asked Lance.

  "I'll have to see who we can line up to fight. The way it looks, no one wants to challenge you. Perhaps Bulldog Warner will take you on next week. He's in the big fight tonight and has been undefeated for a year."

  "The purse is fifty dollars!" exclaimed Fast Eddy.

  "If he wants it, I'll stand against him," said Lance.

  "Warner said you hit him when he wasn't lookin," said Big Mississippi. "He says he's looking forward to giving you a good cleaning."

  "I saw Lance throw that lying foreman in the drink, and there was no trickery about it," said Eddy.

  "Yeah," said Big Mississippi. "You fight Bulldog Warner next Saturday. That ought to bring in a crowd. We'll print up posters early and charge fifty cents instead of twenty-five. That way, the other boxers won't be afraid to fight in the open bare-knuckle event before the big fight."

  "When do you want me here?" asked Lance.

  "Come at six," replied Big Mississippi, grinning and flashing his large yellow teeth. "Give a chance for Bulldog and the crowd to get a look at you before the big fight. Might increase the betting."

  Lance and Fast Eddy stayed to watch Bulldog Warner knock out his opponent after a ten minute match. It was evident to the crowd that Warner was milking it, and had the man beat after the first three minutes. When the crowd began to boo loudly, Warner cruelly beat his lesser opponent to a pulp. Bulldog hit the defenseless man squarely in the nose, breaking it, and knocking him out.

  "I hope you do the same to him," said Fast Eddy. "That skunk has had it coming for a long time."

  Lance and Fast Eddy worked the next week, putting in long hours and getting paid on Saturday. Posters were placed all around the docks and through the town, announcing the fight between Bulldog Warner and Windmill Lance. Many of the men had come up to Lance and thumped him on the back, saying they were looking forward to the fight and they hoped that he would teach Warner a lesson.

  "I told ya, everybody hates Bulldog," said Fast Eddy.

  The two had cleaned up and then taken a light supper at a little eatery on the docks. At six, they appeared at the warehouse and Fast Eddy paid the dollar entrance fee. Miss Lilly was at her table and when she saw Lance, she was all smiles. Again she stood up and shook his hand.

  "After the fight," said Miss Lilly. "Will you come and speak to me?"

  "What about?" asked Fast Eddy.

  "You're not invited," said Miss Lilly. "Besides, I wasn't talking to you."

  "You want to speak to me?" asked Lance. "Fast Eddy's my manager, if it's about fighting, he's in on it too."

  "Well, if you must, bring him," responded Lilly. "Better we meet in the little office. Fast Eddy knows where it is."

  Lance and his manager walked into a large crowd, and many of the men came forward to greet the big man and thump him on the back.

  "Step away, fellows!" shouted Fast Eddy. "Give the man a break, he has to fight tonight. He don't need no pounding before it."

  The crowd of men did step back. Among them were a few women accompanied by men in suits. This was rare for the docks and Fast Eddy said so.

  "Did you make a bet on yourself?" Fast Eddy asked Lance.

  "No. Here's ten dollars. I thought you would do it for me and know who to trust."

  "I do," said Fast Eddy. "And I'm not going near Miss Lilly or Big Mississippi. They're crooks, if you haven't figured it out by now. You hold on, and I'll be right back."

  There was a large crowd on the dock, and Lance watched his manager push through it to go make his bet. The odds were fifty/fifty, an even match. No one would be making much unless they bet big. Lance found a bunch of boxes next to one of the warehouses and he sat down. There were butterflies in his stomach, and he wondered if he could really beat Warner. When he grabbed hold of him on the docks and threw him in the water, he gave the man no chance to fight. This time it would be different, and the dock foreman was a proven boxer.


  Can I avoid those fists?, thought Lance. This time I can't just pick him up and throw him.

  Fast Eddy returned and found another box and sat down. The manager's expression was grim and he looked worried too.

  "You look like I already lost the fight," said Lance.

  "No," replied Fast Eddy. "It's just that I never bet all my money on a fight before."

  "You're having second thoughts," said Lance. "You're worried about those big fists of Warner's and his skill at bare-knuckle."

  Fast Eddy looked up at his friend in wonder.

  "You got brains," he said, smiling genuinely for the first time in hours. "I feel better already. Yeah, I admit, I'm worried about that, but seeing that you know it, makes me feel better. I'm removing my doubts, you just watch that right of his, and stand back. When you get the chance, you break that face of his in two."

  Both men sat against the warehouse and listened to the open bare-knuckle fights. With Lance out of the picture there were six fights and the last one took more than twenty-five minutes. They were late starting the big event.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen!" announced Big Mississippi in his booming voice. "All bets are in! The odds are fifty/fifty. First we have the undefeated bare knuckle champion of the docks, Bulldog Warner!"

  Most of the crowd booed. There were very few cheers.

  "Now . . . from parts unknown . . . the newcomer everyone has been talking about . . . Big Windmill Lance!"

  Nearly everyone in the crowd cheered. Someone shoved Lance from behind and he went into the center of the ring, and just as Big Mississippi was about to speak, Bulldog Warner pushed him aside and struck Lance a hard right to the cheek. This sent Lance reeling backward, the crowd jeered loudly, and Big Mississippi sidestepped and backed away. Bulldog raced forward to strike Lance twice more in the head. Lance fell backward into the crowd and men held him up while Bulldog pounded fists into the big man's stomach.

  Forgetting the rules, Lance regained his feet, reached out with two long arms, grabbed hold of Bulldog Warner and picked him up and threw him into the center of the ring. The man fell and rolled.