by Ralph Cotton
Inside the cantina, Quinn Madsen and Roscoe Turner looked up as Shaw pushed the dusty blanket aside and stepped through the doorway of the Perro Negro Cantina. Paco stepped in right behind him, followed by Drop the Dog Jones. Watching them walk toward the bar, Madsen said to the owner of the shadowy cantina, "Rodero, open a couple of new bottles—mescal and tequila. Welcome our new friend to the ole Black Dog.’’ He lifted a wooden cup of tequila toward Shaw and Paco, then tossed back a drink.
"Yes, of course,’’ said Sepo Rodero, hurriedly grabbing fresh bottles from beneath the wet, battered bar top. "Welcome to my Perro Negro Cantina—the Black Dog Cantina,’’ he added quickly, translating his words into English.
"Gracias,’’ Shaw said. Then he asked the man in Spanish where he might get his horse fed and billeted out of the sun.
Rodero looked first at Madsen for approval. When Madsen gave it with a nod of his head, the cantina owner gestured a hand toward a thin young man at the far end of the bar. "Carlos, see to it this man’s horse is grained and aired. Put him in one of the stalls out back.’’
"Which horse is yours, senor?’’ the boy asked, stopping in front of Shaw with his hand extended.
Shaw produced a small coin from beneath his ragged poncho and dropped it into the boy’s hand. "The buckskin at the end of the rail,’’ he said. "Grain him slow—this much.’’ He made a fist to show the boy the amount of grain. "Then rub him down and feed him that much again.’’
"Enough about the horse,’’ Madsen said in a gruff but friendly manner, "let’s get some of this loco medicina in you, make you feel more sociable, eh?’’ He stuck the bottle of tequila out to Shaw and swished its fiery golden contents. "I’m still determined to get you to ride with us.’’
Turner stood back, watching in silence, measuring Shaw up closely.
Shaw ignored the tequila bottle stuck toward him and said to Rodero, "What have you got to eat back there?’’ He nodded toward a blanketed doorway at the rear of the cantina.
"Plenty of frijoles and asó cabra,’’ the owner said.
"Beans and roasted goat,’’ Shaw said, translating the man’s words. "How quick can I get it?’’
"Mas pronto,’’ said Rodero, already turning and heading toward the back doorway.
"Bueno,’’ said Shaw. "Andole, por favor.’’
Not wanting to be ignored and made to look bad in front of Turner and the rest of his men, Madsen said, "Hey, Shaw, I’m talking to you.’’ He started to swish the bottle toward Shaw again, but before he got a chance, Shaw grasped the bottle quickly from his hand and threw back a long swallow. "Gracias,’’ he said, as soon as he lowered the bottle from his lips and ran the back of his hand across his mouth. "I feel more sociable already.’’
Seeing that Shaw had begun to settle in and drink with Madsen and the others, Drop the Dog Jones eased away, slipped out the front door and hurried down the dusty street to the trash-littered yard of an adobe that he and some of the men had taken over for their living quarters. Inside the adobe, he walked to the snoring man lying sprawled on a blanket in a rear corner. "Lying Earl! Wake up!’’ he demanded, kicking the sleeping figure in the thigh. "Come on, damn it, wake up. We got trouble coming our way.’’
"Huh?’’ Earl Sunday shook his head and wiped a hand down his face, trying to come awake. "Troutrouble?’’ He looked all around bleary-eyed as if expecting something terrible to befall him before he could manage to defend himself. His hand grappled for a black-handled Colt lying on the dirty blanket beside him.
"Don’t grab your damn gun, Earl,’’ said Jones, kicking his hand away from the Colt. "Wake up and listen to me. Fast Larry Shaw is here.’’
"Shaw! Jesus!’’ said Earl, sobering up and coming awake quickly. "Where is he? What’s he want?’’ He looked all around as if Shaw might be lurking nearby.
"I don’t know,’’ said Jones, "but he was dang sure sided with those two lawdogs, Dawson and his deputy, last time we saw him.’’
"Yeah,’’ said Earl, "and he killed Titus Boland right in front of our eyes.’’ His brow furrowed with the bad memory. "We were both dang lucky to get away with our lives.’’
"Yep, and you’ve got to help me tell that to Madsen. He’s trying his best to get Shaw to ride with us!’’
"Ride with us? Oh, hell no,’’ said Earl, coming to his feet, his knees still a little wobbly. "If Shaw’s in, I’m out.’’ He snatched the black-handled Colt from the blanket, shoved it into his holster and tucked his wrinkled shirttail down into his trousers. "Make room, I’m coming through,’’ he added with determination.
"Whoa, hold on,’’ said Jones, grabbing his arm as he turned to head out the door. "I didn’t mean for you to tuck tail and run! I need you to stand with me and tell Madsen what we both saw at Hell’s Gate.’’
"You can tell him,’’ said Earl. "Besides, you’re all the time telling everybody how much I lie. You’ve got the whole gang calling me Lying Earl.’’
"You earned yourself that name long before we ran into each other,’’ said Drop the Dog Jones. He turned loose of Earl’s forearm, seeing the man had stopped heading for the door.
"Right enough,’’ said Earl, "but you could have let it die, instead of telling everybody. Who’s going to believe anything I’ve got to say?’’
"Madsen will, I hope,’’ said Jones. "Leastwise, to save our own necks we’ve got to do our best to tell him.’’ He gave Earl a slight shove toward the doorway. "If he won’t listen to us, we’ll both start looking for a chance to skin out of here together. I’ve got a notion that wherever Shaw is, Dawson and his dude deputy won’t be far behind. We’re going by the livery barn and see what Shaw’s got in his saddlebags. He left them hanging behind his saddle.’’
"He did?’’ Earl considered it, then said, "What good will that do us? If he had anything of value, he would’ve slung them over his shoulder.’’
"Don’t be contrary with me, Earl,’’ Drop the Dog warned. "I ain’t in the mood for it.’’ He jerked his head in the direction of the livery barn. "Let’s go.’’
When the two had left the adobe, the young girl raised her head and peeped in carefully above the windowsill where she had been crouched down listening from outside. Seeing that the men had left, she clutched the small empty food basket to her chest and hurried off along the alleyway that led to the rear of the cantina.
Out front, on their way to the livery barn, Jones and Earl Sunday stopped short as three riders came into town on a back trail and turned onto the main street. "Hola, boys,’’ said the rider in the middle, a rough-faced young Texan gunman named Cero "Double Aces’’ Stewart. "What’s the serious faces all about?’’ As the young gunman asked, he and his two companions stepped down from their saddles and stretched and slapped dust from themselves.
"Aw, hell, Aces, I’m glad to see you,’’ said Jones, speaking for himself and Earl. "We’ve got big trouble in the making. If you ever needed to use that fast draw of yours, today is the day.’’
"Hey, come on,’’ said Cero, giving the two other riders a bemused look. "Whatever’s wrong, you tell ole Double Aces about it.’’ His Colt came up lightning fast and spun on his finger. "I bet it’s nothing I can’t fix.’’
"Fast Larry Shaw is in town,’’ Earl blurted out. "He’s threatening to kill the first man who—’’
"That’s a lie,’’ said Jones, cutting Earl off and shaking his head. "Damn, Earl, you can’t help yourself, can you?’’
"Fast Larry Shaw?’’ said Cero, his Colt stopping sharply on his finger, his thumb over the hammer as he glanced along the dusty street.
"That part’s true,’’ said Jones. A grave attentive look come upon Cero’s craggy face. "He’s at the cantina talking with Madsen about riding with us.’’
"You don’t say . . . ?’’ Cero turned his Colt back and forth in his hand as he continued looking along the dusty street toward the cantina. "I’ve always wondered how Fast Larry and I would get along, both standing on the same stretch of ground.�
��’ He grinned at the two riders standing beside him. "Indian, you’re always freely spilling your opinion. What say you? If me and Shaw threw down on each other, who’d die with his guts bleeding?’’
"You,’’ Indian Coyle said bluntly. He stared at Cero Stewart with resolve.
"Hey, where’s your faith, Indian?’’ Cero snapped, swinging the Colt quickly, cocking it with the tip of the barrel beneath Indian Coyle’s chin.
"You need me to ask him again now that you’ve pulled your hammer back, Double Aces,’’ said Tommy Layton, himself a renowned Texas gunman. "Maybe his opinion has took on a whole different outlook.’’
"Is that right, Indian?’’ Cero said with a dark, devilish grin, rubbing the tip of the gun barrel back and forth beneath the Indian’s chin. "Should I ask you again, this time with a little stronger conviction?’’
"Ask me forty times,’’ said Indian Coyle, standing rigid with a flat look on his dust-streaked face, "forty times I’ll tell you . . . face Shaw, you’re dead.’’
Cero gave a chuckle, lowered his Colt, uncocked it and spun it backward and into his holster. "You’re no fun, Indian. What makes you say that about me anyway? You’ve seen me shoot. Hell, you’ve won money on my shooting.’’
"I’ve seen Shaw shoot too.’’ Indian Coyle shook his head slowly. "You want to sit this one out.’’
"Yeah? I’ll keep that in mind.’’ Cero seemed to take his words seriously, owing to the look on Indian’s face and the fact that in such matters he’d never known Indian to be wrong.
"I’ve seen him shoot too,’’ Earl cut in. He gestured toward Jones. "Me and Drop the Dog watched him kill Titus Boland deader than a—’’
"Is he lying, Dog?’’ Cero asked Jones, staring hard at Lying Earl. "Because if he is ...’’
"No, this time he’s telling the truth,’’ said Jones. "We both saw it. Shaw is fast. But hell, I never seen anybody that couldn’t meet their match, have you?’’
"Good point,’’ Cero replied. To Indian he said, "See? Why couldn’t you have told me something like that? Instead of having me dead and buried before I’ve even said howdy to the man?’’
Indian Coyle only stared blankly.
"I’ve seen Shaw some other places too,’’ said Lying Earl, taking advantage of having someone believing him. "I saw him kill two men in Eagle’s Nest, three more in Hyde City.’’
"Is that a fact?’’ said Cero, looking past Earl and seeing Jones shaking his head no, discrediting every word Earl said.
Unsuspecting, Earl continued. "I seen him shoot his way out of a saloon in—’’
"All right, that’s enough,’’ said Jones, cutting him off gruffly. He looked at Cero. "We’re headed for the livery barn. I want to get a look through Shaw’s saddlebags.’’
"That’s where we were headed,’’ said Cero, turning, his reins in hand. "I think we ought to just mosey over there with yas. Get an idea what this big, bad Texas gunslinger has been up to lately.’’
At the bar, Shaw stood finishing his plate of beans and goat meat and wiping a piece of bread around on the empty plate.
Beside him, Madsen cast a glance at Roscoe Turner, then continued speaking to Shaw as he had been all the while the gunman ate his fill. In a voice that barely hid his impatience, Madsen said, "I understand how a man like yourself wants to be a lone wolf. Time was when I myself felt that way. But things have changed. Times have gotten tight. Every day, there’s troops showing up along both sides of the border, trying to hold down ole boys like us, get us under their boot, so to speak.’’
Shaw swallowed the last bite of bread and wiped a hand across his mouth. "I’ll take my chances,’’ he said. "I’m not looking to make new friends.’’
Madsen felt a surge of rage in his chest, but he kept it in check. "And I’m not used to having an offer of friendship thrown back in my face, Shaw.’’
Before Shaw could reply, his attention turned to Cero Stewart, who walked into the cantina with Lying Earl and Jones right behind him. "Shaw! I’m looking for you,’’ Cero called out. At the bar, Madsen gave Turner and the others a nod, telling them to spread away and see how Shaw would handle a top gun like Double Aces Stewart.
"Maybe you should have taken my offer while you had a chance, Fast Larry,’’ Madsen said in a half threat. "I don’t know if you’ve met Cero Stewart. He’s from Texas, same as you.’’
"I’ve heard of Double Aces,’’ Shaw said, already knowing where this was headed. He gave Stewart a cold, flat stare. "I hear you’re real fast.’’
"You better believe it, Deputy Shaw,’’ said Cero, returning the stare. To Madsen he said, "I found this in his saddlebags.’’ He pitched a tin badge to Madsen. "I figured you might want to take a look at it, before you go letting this snake in our midst.’’
Madsen caught the badge, looked at it in surprise and turned it back and forth in his hand. "Well, well, look what we have here.’’
Turner stepped in beside Madsen for a closer look, his hand resting on his holstered Remington revolver. The rest of the men saw the badge and stood tensed, ready to reach for their guns at Madsen’s command. "Tell us what you want, Quinn,’’ Turner said quietly, his eyes riveted on Shaw.
Chapter 4
Madsen considered the consequences of his men shooting it out with Shaw right then and there. He’d already seen enough to know that Shaw was not an easy man to kill. He also knew that with his being the leader of the gang it stood to reason that he would be Shaw’s first target. With all this in mind, plus the fact that he still needed men like Shaw riding with him, Madsen looked around slowly and calmly at the situation.
"Everybody take it real easy,’’ he said, raising his hand for emphasis. "I want Shaw to tell us who this piece of tin belonged to before we go shooting one another full of holes over it. For all we know Fast Larry might have killed the lawman who was wearing this badge. What about it, Shaw?’’ he asked.
"Yeah, Shaw,’’ Cero cut in, standing well poised for a gun duel. "Let us hear you deny it’s yours.’’
"I don’t deny it,’’ Shaw said matter-of-factly. "That badge belongs to me. I took it off the day I caught up with Titus Boland and killed him.’’ As he spoke, he looked past Cero Stewart at Drop the Dog Jones.
"See? I told you,’’ said Jones, "he killed the Barrows brothers too. Me and Earl here saw it!’’
"That’s right,’’ said Earl. "He shot them both down, took out a knife and commenced to scalp—’’
"No, he didn’t do all that,’’ said Jones, cutting off Earl before he could go any further with his tale. "But he did kill them, and now that I see that badge, I understand why he did. Fast Larry has turned straight-up lawdog!’’
Madsen looked at Shaw. "What have you got to say for yourself, Shaw? Are you a lawdog?’’
"No, I’m not,’’ Shaw replied, his right hand hanging loose but ready at his side. "But it’s all true what Jones said. I took on a deputy badge because it was the best way for me to hunt down Titus Boland after he murdered a woman I cared for. As soon as I killed him, I took off the badge.’’
"You’re saying you was a deputy, but now you’re not?’’ Cero asked with a sly grin. "That sounds awfully peculiar. You just put on a badge and wear it so long as it suits you?’’
"Believe what you want,’’ said Shaw. "I’m through talking about it. If you plan on pulling iron, get to it.’’ He stared hard at Cero.
"Whoa, hang on,’’ said Madsen, keeping everybody at bay. Then he said to Shaw, "You say you only become a lawman long enough to kill Titus Boland? That must’ve been some woman you cared about.’’
"It was,’’ said Shaw, without taking his eyes off Cero Stewart.
"But what about the Barrowses?’’ Madsen asked. "Why’d you kill them?’’
"The Barrowses just happened to get in my gun sights,’’ Shaw said coolly. "So did a few federales before it was over.’’ He continued staring at Cero Stewart. "What about it, Double Aces? Are you going to draw that six-sh
ooter, or has the room grown too small for you?’’
Stewart sneered. "You son of a bitch.’’
"Wait!’’ Madsen shouted at Stewart, seeing the gunman begin to make his move. But Cero had gone too far to stop himself. He snatched his Colt from his holster.
Shaw’s response came fast, catlike. His colt streaked up from his holster; his bullet hit Cero in the heart before the gunman got off a shot. But Shaw didn’t stop there. A child’s voice shrieked from the rear of the cantina, "Look out, senor!’’
Shaw spun away from the bar on his heel. He turned in time to see Tommy Layton leap forward from beside the rear door with a rifle leveled toward him.
A shot from Shaw’s Colt slammed Layton back against the wall. Layton’s rifle flew from his hands; he slid to the floor onto his knees clutching his bleeding chest. Shaw fanned the Colt back and forth, searching for his next target. Turner and the rest of Madsen’s men stood tensed, ready to reach for their guns. But Madsen stood with his hands spread, showing Shaw he wanted no fight with him. "It’s over! Everybody stand down!’’ he shouted at both Shaw and his men.
Shaw stood expressionless, his Colt cocked and ready.
"None of us had anything to do with this, Shaw,’’ Madsen said, gesturing toward Tommy Layton lying dead by the rear door. "If it’s more killing you want, so be it. But this was Cero and Layton’s doings, not mine.’’
"I believe you,’’ Shaw said. He glanced across the men and saw they had eased down under Madsen’s order. He lowered his Colt a bit in reply. Then he looked along the rear wall and found the owner of the voice that had called out a warning to him. "Who’s this?’’ he asked, seeing the young girl huddled down beside a broken table in the far corner.
Madsen also saw the girl, and he gestured one of his men toward her as he replied to Shaw, "This is Francisca.’’
"You know her?’’ Shaw asked, slipping his Colt into his holster as the man pulled the child up and led her toward the bar.
"Her mother is a friend of mine,’’ said Madsen. "A really good friend, if you understand what I’m saying.’’ He reached down for the child to come to him. "What are you doing here, Francisca’’ he asked. But the girl passed him without so much as a glance. Instead she hurried to Shaw, looked him up and down and said, "You—you are not hurt, Mr. Angel?’’ Then before he had time to answer she said quickly, "I knew you would not be hurt. I knew they could not harm you—’’