Gunpoint

by Giles Tippette

  About that time a man came up and leaned against the railing next to me. He was facing toward the track and I was facing away, but I’d got a good look at him as he’d strolled up. At first I figured he was seeking me out to bring me a message from Flood, but there was something about him that made me doubt he was one of Flood’s hirelings. He wasn’t handsome in that lady-killer way that Ben was, but he had a striking, gentle-looking face. I figured him to be in his early to mid-thirties. He was closer to Ben’s size but he wasn’t muscled up like Ben. His right side was turned away from me so I couldn’t see his sidearm or how he had it set up, but I could see his hands as he rested them on the top rail of the fence. The backs were tanned, but the insides were lighter and looked soft and smooth. It was no stretch to figure he wasn’t a man who settled matters with his fists. Of course he could have been someone who worked at a desk, but he had the weathered face and crinkles around the eyes of an outdoor man who was used to squinting into the sun.

  After a minute he nodded at my horse and said, “Likely-looking animal. You waiting to get up a match?”

  I shook my head. “Naw. I’m just looking around. Just got into town.”

  He half smiled. “Well, you stand there by that horse very long you will get propositioned.”

  “You racing?”

  He shook his head. “Ain’t got the right livestock. Animal I’m riding is straight quarter horse. Got plenty of speed for three or four hundred yards, but nobody wants to run that distance. Most of the racing stock around here is going to have a pretty good dose of American Standardbred or Morgan in it, even some Thoroughbred. I heard that on the Fourth when they have the regular races, might even be some pure Thoroughbreds in amongst them.”

  About then a strutting little man in a red vest and a string tie came up to me. He was leading an unsaddled strawberry roan that I could see from the length of the back and the driving muscles was a runner. The little man said, “Howdy, neighbor. Name’s Borden. Junior Borden. Looking for a race? Mighty fine-looking animal you got there.”

  I shook my head. “No, thanks. My horse is trail weary. Ain’t fit to run right now.”

  Junior Borden acted like he hadn’t heard me. “Tell you what. Even though it ain’t my horse’s natural distance I’ll run you a six-sixty. Six hunnert and sixty yards. Run you for five hunnert dollars. I see a lot of Morgan in that horse of yours. That distance would just be pie to him.”

  I shook my head again, a little annoyed. “I told you my horse is trail tired. He ain’t fit to run.”

  “Pshaw!” Mister Borden said. “Young colt like that. Hell, he can rest up while you an’ I is havin’ a cold beer over yonder at the booth.”

  “No. Thank you. Maybe some other time.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll give you a two-length head start. Now what do you say to that.”

  About this time the man on my left turned and put his back to the fence. He said softly, “Junior, you are a plague.”

  Junior put up his hand. “All right, Wilson. All right. Just asking, just trying to do a little business. Give the man a chance.”

  I said, “Maybe some other time.” I looked at his horse a little more curiously. The animal obviously had a lot of American Standardbred in him. The rest was quarter horse. The man hadn’t been lying when he’d said the 660-yard race was not the right distance for his horse. It was too short.

  Junior said, “Well, I’ll go looking for somebody else to give my money to.”

  When he was gone the man to my left laughed. He said, in that gentle voice of his, “That Junior. He’s a pistol.”

  I said, “That wouldn’t be all of that bad a bet. That is a bad distance for that horse.”

  The man laughed. “Yeah, for that horse. Only that wouldn’t be the horse you’d be running. He’s got a short-coupled little strawberry roan looks exactly like that one except he’s mostly quarter horse and he can run a turn like he was on rails. Can your horse run?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never put him up against another horse. I just rode him on this trip because . . .” I stopped. I didn’t have any business talking to strangers about my affairs.

  The man seemed not to have noticed my pause. He said, “Looks like a good road horse. Looks strong.”

  I nodded toward where Junior was talking to another man standing beside a horse. “I take it he’s from around here?”

  “Junior? Not really. He pretty much works the whole border. Both sides. He’s just a dressed-up hustler.”

  I looked over at the man. “This your range?”

  He shook his head. “Naw, not permanent.” He laughed slightly and I saw what was so striking about his face. It was his eyes. One minute they were green, the next they were gray. Didn’t seem to be any middle to them. He said, “Climate on the other side of the border is a little better for my health.”

  While I was studying on that he put out his hand. “My name is Wilson Young.”

  “Justa Williams,” I said. “I’m from down around the coast. In the ranching business.” While I said it I was running his name through my head. Wilson Young. I’d heard the name before but I couldn’t place it. It seemed like it was some kind of well-known name but I couldn’t get a handle on it.

  He said, “Well, you are off your range. Ranch business?”

  “Yeah,” I said slowly. “Something like that. Seeing if anybody is doing anything different with livestock.”

  He laughed shortly. “Here on the border? Yeah, I hear they are trying to cross one of them Mexican steers with a fish so as to get ’em across the river faster.”

  We both laughed a little at that, but as a cowman I found it more true than humorous. I got out my watch and looked at it. The time was closing in on one o’clock and no sign of J.C. Flood. But just as I thought he might be late I saw a black buggy turn in at the gate to the racetrack and head down toward the middle. It stopped in a cleared space and just sat there. I heaved away from the fence. “Well, I am glad to have made your acquaintance, Mister Young. I have some business if you’ll excuse me.”

  He could see the direction of my gaze. He said, “Watch your hip pocket.”

  I gave him a look, but he was smiling. Turned as he was now, I could see his gun rig. It was set up very similar to mine. His name kept running around in my head but I still couldn’t place it. But right then I had more important business on my mind. Me and Mister Flood were fixing to have the talk I’d been waiting a long time for.

  I stepped in the stirrup and swung aboard the roan. Even though Flood’s buggy was only twenty five or thirty yards away, I wanted to be sitting a-horseback when we talked. I rode the short distance and looked down into the buggy. There sat Mister Flood looking not much different than I’d remembered. He had on a black linen suit, a broad necktie, and a little flat-crowned hat. There was another man sitting beside him, holding the reins. He was a rough-looking hombre and I figured him to be one of the five. Flood leaned out of the buggy and looked up at me as I stopped my horse. He said, “Well, well, what a surprise. Mister Justa Williams of Matagorda County.”

  I said, “Well, Mister Flood, for some reason I ain’t surprised to see you here. How come you reckon that?”

  He gave me an innocent expression. “I wouldn’t have any idea, Mister Williams. Though I’m mighty pleased to find you in my neighborhood. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about a business matter for some little time.”

  “Talk away,” I said.

  “Surely you are not going to make me crane my neck out of this buggy and stare up at you? Won’t you at least dismount?”

  One thing you could always say about Flood; crook he was, conniver and cheat and dishonest reprobate, but he was always polite-spoken.

  I considered his request and then slowly stepped to the ground. I held the reins in my hand and stood at the head of my horse. I was talking to Flood but I was keeping my eye on the driver of his buggy. As long as he kept both hands on the reins and above the dashboard of the buggy I wou
ld be content. I said, “What do you want to talk about, Flood? Let’s make this quick. I got business elsewhere.”

  “Oh, Mister Williams, delay, delay. This is a matter not to be rushed. There are many points of order to be ironed out between us, many considerations to be discussed. No, you’ve had a long, hard trip. It’s a holiday. Enjoy yourself.”

  I could feel my anger heating up. “Goddam you, Flood, I’ve had all the shit I’m going to take off you. Cripple or not, you are playing a dangerous game. And if you”—I was looking at Flood, but I raised my right hand and pointed a finger at the driver—“move one fucking inch I’ll shoot your damn head off.”

  Flood said, “Wait, Mister Williams! Contain yourself, sir. If we start off with this attitude we’ll never get our business completed.”

  I said hard, “What the hell you want?”

  “To talk, to negotiate.”

  “Then get on with it.”

  He looked shocked. “Oh, not here. This was just a chance meeting. No, we’ll need to sit down in formal discussion.”

  “Flood, stop playing ring-around-the-rosy. Chance meeting, my ass. You left me a note. Now say what you’ve come to say.”

  He suddenly gave me a hard look. “Not here. And not now. When I’m ready.”

  Before I could answer Junior Borden came barging in leading his horse. He said, “Hey, I talked to you first. J.C. ain’t going to give you any two-lengths head start. J.C., don’t be interfering when I’m doing business.”

  I looked at Flood. I jerked my head at the man in the red vest. “He part of your plan? Is there some reason I’m supposed to run him a horse race?”

  Flood pulled a face and looked innocent. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Mister Williams. I don’t have any plan. I find you in Del Rio and it appears to me to be an ideal time for us to settle some old differences. But since my time is occupied right now, why, I don’t see any reason you shouldn’t take some of Mr. Borden’s money. I’m quite interested in horse racing myself. In fact it’s my principal interest now since I was so unfortunately forced out of the cattle business.”

  I looked at him, thinking. Either there was a hell of a lot of coincidence involved or Borden was acting on Flood’s orders. There were a dozen other horsemen standing around ready and willing to race, and yet Borden kept coming up to me. I said to Flood, “When is your time going to become unoccupied? Because I’m not long for this town. You follow my drift?”

  Mister Flood said, “Well, I think you’d find the trip home a difficult one until we’ve settled our differences. If you get my drift.”

  “You threatening me, Flood? I could shoot you right here. And I think that would settle all our differences.”

  He smiled. “I’m unarmed, Mister Williams. But a half-dozen, men around you aren’t. Now why don’t you be reasonable and let’s you and I discuss this matter. Run the man a race. I’ll be available at this time tomorrow. I’ve got a ranch just outside of town. Anyone can tell you its location.”

  I shook my head and smiled back at him. “Naw, I don’t think so, Mister Flood. I hate to waste money and I’ve gone to the expense of hiring a setting room at the hotel just on the hunch I’d be seeing you. I couldn’t let it go to waste. I’m sure you know what hotel I’m staying at. I’ll look for you at one.”

  Then to Borden, who seemed quite comfortable overhearing the conversation, I said, “I’ll race you tomorrow morning at ten.” I mounted my horse and without another word rode out of the fairgrounds. As I passed Wilson Young he lifted his hand. I gave him a wave back, still wondering where I’d heard his name.

  Back at the hotel I was surprised to have the desk clerk call me over and hand me a telegram. Standing in the lobby I tore it open and was pleased to see that it was from Norris. It said that Nora was going to extend her visit until I returned home. That at least was one load off my mind. Norris ended by saying that all was well at home and that I should only be concerned with myself.

  Well, I was glad Nora was staying in Houston. I didn’t know how long this business with Flood was going to take. I had originally thought I would just load my horses in a cattle car and take the train home. But if Flood meant to keep me from leaving it might could mean that I would have to slip out overland and try for Uvalde or someplace before I could get on a train. I couldn’t take on six to one and load horses and get on a train at the same time. It appeared I had walked into a box canyon and I was going to have to find some way to get out.

  Upstairs in my rooms I thought that, even though I didn’t have to worry about rushing home somehow for Nora’s sake, I still had no desire whatsoever to hang around Del Rio awaiting J.C. Flood’s pleasure. I didn’t exactly know what I was going to do but whatever it was, it was going to be pretty quick. I’d see him on the morrow and find out just what he wanted, but I already had a pretty good idea it would have to do with that herd of illegal cattle he’d tried to drive across our range. He’d get no satisfaction out of me about that.

  I went down for supper about seven. The place was crowded, mostly with men who didn’t know enough to take their hats off indoors, but there was also a sprinkling of men dressed in the kind of suits and ties that Norris wore. I had to figure that the biggest part of them were down for the horse races or had something to do with the races in some way or other. I finally got a table just inside the big door that led off the lobby. They had white cloths on the table, and even a pitcher of water with ice in it and glasses. I didn’t get ice water often enough so I took the opportunity to do so. I was drinking my second glass and waiting for the waitress to come over when Wilson Young come through the door and stopped. He looked around, looking for a table, and then glanced my way. He came over. He was dressed in a crisp, clean white shirt and pressed jeans. His boots were even shined. When he got to my table he said, “You reckon I could sit down? This place seems pretty well full up.”

  I said, “Only if you tell me where I can get some clothes cleaned. I’m down to my last shirt practically.”

  He laughed and pulled out a chair. “They’s a Chinaman does the wash for the hotel. Leave word at the desk and they pick it up in the morning and have it back that evening. I take it you been on the road a long time.”

  “Long enough,” I said.

  He poured himself out a glass of water and then looked at the bill of fare.

  I said, “You staying here at the hotel?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.” Then he said, “They having chicken and dumplings tonight. They make damn good chicken and dumplings here.” He put the bill of fare down. “Yeah, I stay here when I come across.”

  “You come over often?”

  He looked at me with those gray eyes. “When it’s handy.”

  The waitress came then and we both ordered the chicken and dumplings. I ordered a cold beer, but Wilson asked for iced tea, something I’d heard about but never had occasion to sample.

  I studied his face for a minute. Finally I said, “Say, have we ever met before?”

  Young shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. In fact I’m pretty sure we haven’t.”

  “Well, I’ve just been going loco trying to place you. Your looks aren’t familiar, but I swear I’ve run across your name before. That or somebody named the same. Though it ain’t what I’d call a common name.”

  “I know who you are. But so far as that goes I don’t think you’ve ever set eyes on me before this noon. You and your family operate the Half-Moon ranch down in Matagorda County. And you own half the town of Blessing.”

  I said, thinking of Flood, “How did you know that?”

  He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. “Excuse me. Had a couple of drinks in the bar and they made me a little drowsy.”

  I said carefully, “How did you know about me and my family.”

  “Oh, that!” He laughed. “Hell, I robbed your bank one time.”

  I just stared at him. True, our bank in Blessing had been robbed some several years back. “What did you say?�
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  He laughed again. “I said I robbed your bank in Blessing.” He thought for a second. “That was about five or six years ago. Me and about four friends of mine. As well as I remember it was pretty lean pickings. I think ya’ll had just started it up.”

  I put my water down. “I’ll be damned! You’re Wilson Young!”

  “That’s what I said. By the way, there was nothing personal about it. We were on the run, heading for Mexico, and it seemed an easy place to pick up some extra cash. We were mighty short at the time. But I don’t think we got more than two thousand. Just what was in the teller’s cash drawers. They couldn’t open the safe.”

  I just stared at him for a moment. I said, when I could, “You robbed our bank? In Blessing?”

  “That’s what I just told you.” He got out a package of cigarillos and took one out. Then he offered the pack across the table to me. “Smoke?”

  I waved it away. “You are sitting here at this table telling me you robbed my family’s bank? Hell, you’re a wanted outlaw!”

  He nodded slowly and lit his cigarillo. “Yeah, I reckon you could say that. Though I ain’t much wanted these days. I been out of the outlaw business for some little time. I ain’t had no pardon from the governor, if that’s what you mean. But I don’t make myself obvious. When I cross over I do it in towns like Del Rio where the sheriff will take a few dollars and look the other way.”

  I said slowly, “Well, I’m a son of a bitch. You just up and tell me.”

  “Hell, you wanted to know where you’d heard the name. I figured that was where. But hell, you’re dealing with a bigger crook than I was if you’re having any truck with J.C. Flood.”

  I started laughing. He looked at me curiously.