I said, “Because of that exact reason. You’d have made a bet that any fool wouldn’t have made and Flood would have smelled a rat.”
We rode along while he digested that. Finally he said, “That was a pretty slick piece of business, what you done with that filly in heat and that chest-rub up the colt’s nose.” He looked over at me. “Are you sort of full of that kind of thinking? Or did this just come to you?”
“I don’t know. When Flood boxed me in where I couldn’t run the black, I knew I had to figure out some way to beat him because I wasn’t going to lose to that little frog. The part about the filly was easy, but I couldn’t figure out how to keep it from affecting the colt until the very last. I got it from a stunt I’d seen my brother Ben pull.”
Wilson suddenly laughed. “I bet ol’ J.C. Flood is about to chew his arm off right now. I bet he knows you put the spurs to him, he just can’t figure out how. That filly didn’t fool anyone. But it was that they were both stud horses and only one took the bait.” He laughed again. “I heard you tell Junior, when he was sniffing the air, that you was getting a cold. Mister Williams, I’m not all that convinced that you are an honest man. Cheat a cripple like that.”
“Hell, you wanted to lame his horse!”
“I was joshing.”
“Shore you were.”
He suddenly looked around. “Say, ain’t we supposed to have three horses, one of them named Bank Money?”
I told him what Junior Borden had said. He frowned. “I may have to think on that. Right off I don’t like the sound of it.”
“He could have had it set up in advance for Bank Money to be standing at stud. Maybe he’s got one last mare he wants to breed to the horse.”
“Hell, it’s your horse. He can’t breed your horse.”
I told him that the agreement we’d signed allowed for twenty four hours before the losing horse had to be surrendered.
But he still didn’t like it. He frowned. “Tomorrow afternoon, huh? At his place. I’m going to have to think on this.”
By then we were in town and turning in by the hotel and riding back to the stable. The day boy was outside, leaning against one of the big doors when Wilson and I came up. He watched us dismount and then switch saddles, me putting my own saddle back on the roan, though not cinching it up, and Wilson throwing the little light parade saddle on the back of his dun. While Wilson was girthing up I led the roan up to the stable boy and handed him the reins. I said, “This young fellow has done a good day’s work this afternoon. Give him a little grain and a little water. Not too much. Then, fifteen minutes later, give him the same amount again. And give him a good rubdown.” I gave the boy a fifty-cent tip to make sure he was thorough in his task.
“Yes, sir!” he said.
Wilson hitched his horse in the front of the hotel, and we went on in and headed for the bar so that Wilson could get a drink of brandy. He said, “You know we got to celebrate. We’ll go across and them girls will have us something plenty good fixed up. I had it arranged because I thought you was going to need some consoling, but it’ll do just as well for a celebration.”
I explained to him, just before we walked into the bar, that I had to hold up until after six so I could pay off Tom, the stable boy.
Wilson said, “Looked to me like that kid cut it mighty thin, mighty thin.”
“I taken notice of that myself. If the colt hadn’t acted up he wouldn’t have been in time.”
We went on into the bar. There were just a few scattered customers in the place, most of them probably still making their way in from the track. We stopped at the bar and got a couple of drinks and then sat down at a table. Wilson lifted his glass and said, “Luck,” and I did likewise. We knocked them back and then sat there a minute letting the strong drink sink in and some of the tension leak out. After a few minutes the bartender brought us a couple more. He said, as he set them down on the table, “On the house. I hear you just beat that goddam J.C. Flood’s horse.”
“Much obliged,” Wilson said. He lifted his glass to the bartender.
I had noticed that, even though there were few patrons in the bar, every one of them had turned his head to look at us as we came in. I figured word traveled fast.
Wilson and I were just beginning to discuss how he planned for the evening to go when a man suddenly disengaged himself from the bar and came over to our table. He stopped about a foot away and said to me, “Ain’t you that feller that owns the roan horse that run against Bank Money?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He was just an ordinary-looking man somewhere in his thirties, either a small rancher or a cowhand. He was carrying a sidearm, but it didn’t look like he used it much. “Well, I jest want you to know that you crooked me out of a hunnert dollars.”
It startled me so that I couldn’t think of anything to say, but Wilson said softly, “Those are mighty harsh words, neighbor. Ain’t exactly polite.”
The man said, “I bet another feller ten dollars ’n give him ten-to-one odds agin that horse of yores. You crooked that race somehow. I’m gonna show you—”
His right hand had started toward his right side. In that instant a gun was suddenly in Wilson’s hand, resting on the tabletop, pointing right at the man’s chest. Hell, it stunned me. I was pretty quick, and Ben was damn quick, but Wilson Young was the fastest thing I’d ever seen. He’d just been sitting there, looking relaxed, the man’s hand had moved, and then there was a gun drawn and leveled in Wilson Young’s hand. For a second everything froze. Wilson didn’t bother to speak.
The man’s eyes got big and he took a step backwards. “My gawd, you ain’t Wilson Young, be you?”
Wilson said, “Yes.”
The man was starting to tremble a little. He stared at the gun in Wilson’s hand. He said in a faltering voice, “My gawd, I never meant nuthin’. I was just a-gonna pull out my pockets and show this gennelman that his horse cleaned me out.”
Wilson said, “We ain’t interested in your pockets. Now get back to the bar. And I’d be real careful with any talk about anybody crooking a race. Didn’t nobody hold a gun on you and make you give ten-to-one odds.”
“Yessir, yessir,” he said. “I was jest goin’.”
We watched him leave. Wilson slowly reholstered his revolver. He said, “I can’t stand a sore loser. And how was I supposed to know he was about to turn his pockets out?”
I just looked at him thoughtfully.
He caught my gaze and said, “What?”
I got an innocent look on my face. “Oh, I was just thinking that revolver got in your hand awful fast for an ex-bank robber, now a gentleman gambler.”
“Lot of card cheats around, Justa. Lot of ’em. And then there’s your guitar players. Sometimes they get lazy and don’t want to work. Have to impress them sometimes.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Guitar players. He going to be there tonight?”
“Never can tell,” Wilson said, “Never can tell.”
* * *
At about six-thirty I walked around to the stable to see Tom. Wilson had already left to get the celebration started. Tom met me in the door looking agitated. He said, “Oh, Mister Williams, I am so all mighty sorry! I’m mighty, mighty sorry. I reckon you thought I’d done let you down. I—”
I put up my hand. “Tom, it’s all right, it’s all right.”
But I couldn’t slow him down. He meant to have his say. “I know I must have give you some anxious minutes. I meant to be there a good half hour ’fore time to come to that railing. But—”
“Tom—”
But he never even paused. “I don’t want no more money. No sir, not a penny. I come nigh near lettin’ you down an’ I’d give my word. See, what happened, Mister Williams, I was coming cross-pasture in plenty of time ’n then here comes this stud horse outten nowhere. Don’t even know whose he wuz. Come straight at my filly like a arrow outten a bow. Well, it just plumb disturbed the filly an’ she got to cuttin’ up and throwed me. Then I h
ad to run off that stud horse an’ he didn’t want to go, nosir! An’ then I had to catch the filly an’ all the time I’s sweatin’ something fierce about being late. An’ while I was catchin’ up the filly I dropped yore watch and had to hunt that up. An’ then I looked at it an seen how late I was an’ my heart near stopped. I galloped that filly as hard as I could! I am mighty sorry, Mister Williams. I ain’t heard about the race. In fact of the matter I been scairt to hear ’bout the race.”
“You didn’t look back?”
“No sir. I done like you told me. Soon as that big bay got close I turned around and hightailed it outten there. Here’s yore watch, sir.”
I took the watch and put it in my pocket. “Well, don’t worry about it, Tom. Now would you saddle my roan and bring him out.”
“Yessir, yessir, right quick.”
He was back quicker than I thought it was possible to saddle and bridle a horse. He came leading the roan out the door. The colt looked rested and curious. He hadn’t actually had a very hard run. I’d taken him across the prairie at the same gait and for longer distances. While Tom had been gone I’d gotten a hundred dollars out of my pocket and had it hidden in my hand. I was curious about something. “Tom, when you got to the fairgrounds gate you got down and opened it. Then you led your filly through and closed it again before you remounted. If you were so late why did you take that time?”
He gave me a startled look. “Why, my daddy would skin me alive he ever saw me not close a gate after myself. Livestock would get out you left gates open.”
I nodded. I’d thought it would be something like that. “Here, this is the rest of your money.”
He put his hands behind his back. “No sir. I can’t take it. I didn’t do the job I told you I’d do.”
“I won, Tom.”
His mouth fell open. “You won? With that bay horse so far out in front? I wuz jest feelin’ awful!”
“The bay horse stopped and visited where your filly had been standing.”
“Lawd a-mercy!”
“So you did your job. Now take the money.” I held it out and he reluctantly accepted it into his hand.
I mounted the roan. “You still want to keep this quiet, Tom.”
He nodded his head vigorously. “Oh, yessir! You don’t need to worry about that!”
I took up the reins and was about to ride away when Tom said, “Mister Williams, one thing . . . ”
“What?”
He looked puzzled. “Well, how come yore roan colt didn’t stop and visit at that same place?”
“Well, Tom, this here colt has got good manners and when he seen that other horse had got there first he just went on so as not to interfere.”
“Oh,” Tom said. But he still looked puzzled.
I touched the roan and started toward the street. I was about twenty yards away from the stable when I heard Tom yell, “But Mister Williams, you made a mistake. This here is a hunnert dollars.”
I just kept riding, heading on over across the river and to Wilson’s place. As good as my luck was, the guitar player might show up.
CHAPTER 15
We were in pretty good shape the next morning considering that I’d run out of whiskey some time in the evening and had had to drink Wilson’s brandy, and considering that we’d stayed up pretty late because Wilson had kept insisting that the guitar player would show up sooner or later. I remembered offering to whistle so the girls could dance, but Wilson had said that just wouldn’t do. I’d finally just gone to bed.
It was about ten o’clock and Wilson and I were sitting out on the porch, surveying the world and drinking coffee. We’d both had a glass of Evita’s magic elixir and weren’t feeling all that bad.
Wilson said, “Well, it appears we are on the slide side of the hill.”
“What?”
“Well, we kept you from getting killed, we won—what?—three horse races, we saved that big chunk of money Flood wanted. Now all we got to do is go pick up a horse.”
“You are mighty free with this ’we’ business.”
“I don’t like it.”
“What?”
“Going for that horse.”
I looked over at him. He had his chair tipped back against the wall of the house like he always did and was gazing out across the pastureland. Neither one of us was wearing a shirt, though I had boots on. I said, “You think it’s a setup?”
“I think it’s a sucker play to go riding in there fat, dumb, and happy. Evita, bring us some more coffee!”
“Hell, Wilson, Flood’s had a thousand chances to have me killed if that was his intentions.”
“Then why don’t he just deliver you the horse?”
“I don’t reckon he wants to make it any easier on me than he has to. But why should he try and do me harm now? It would point the finger right at him, just like you said it would me if I was to kill him.”
“But you’re armed and you’re capable and you ain’t been paying off the sheriff since the first Mexican cow swum that river. Besides, Justa, he had a shot at that money before. As long as that was in the works you weren’t no good to him dead. And then there’s that horse, Bank Money.”
“What about the horse?”
Wilson turned to look at me. “Flood is going to hate to lose that horse more than the money. That horse gave him struttin’ rights. Now you’ve not only gone and rubbed his nose in it right here in his own town, you’ve taken his horse to boot. I’m telling you, a man like Flood don’t really give a shit. The man has the scruples and the mentality of a half-hung horse thief. He’d rob a church and make the choir keep singin’ while he done it. Why don’t you forget that horse and go on home? Hell, I’ll steal him some night.”
Evita came out to pour us more coffee. I thanked her, and then said to Wilson grimly, “That horse represents the only profit I’ll show for being run ragged for all these weeks. I intend to go over there and get that horse.”
Wilson sighed and shook his head. “You do tend toward the stubborn, Mister Williams. What time are we supposed to get over there?”
“There you go with that we stuff again. I’ll just jingle on over there right after lunch and fetch that horse back and then we’ll have a fandango. Maybe I’ll run into the guitar player on the way.”
“I can’t let you go by yourself.”
“I’d like to know why not. I reckon I’m capable of fetching a horse.”
Wilson took a sip of coffee. “I owe you money. Think how I’d feel if you went over to Flood’s and got yourself killed before I could square up with you.”
I made a disgusted sound. “Don’t start that shit again.”
“Just hold up. Let me figure this out.” He cocked his head back and looked up at the porch roof while he thought. “Now I rode two races for you. I ain’t got no set price for that so we’ll just figure five hundred dollars apiece. That comes to a thousand, leaving me owing you a thousand out of the two thousand I taken out of your bank.”
“Dammit, I told you the money was insured.”
He give me a look. “Man has his honor, Mister Williams. You can’t insure that.” He considered for a moment more. “Now this would be a nursemaiding job. Generally I get more than a thousand for nursemaiding, but you’ve been pretty patient about the guitar player so I reckon I can do the work for a even thousand, which would square us.”
I said disgustedly, “Oh, fuck you.”
He shook his head. “No, that’s Evita’s job.”
* * *
Wilson figured it to be about a thirty-minute ride to Flood’s ranch. We left about one o’clock figuring to be deliberately late. Wilson said, “Later we are, the more careless they are liable to get.”
“You are going to feel damn foolish about this when nothing happens.”
He just nodded. “I’d a damn sight rather feel foolish than not feel anything at all.”
My feelings were mixed. I hated to be drawing another man into my troubles, but I couldn’t help being just a little
glad that Wilson was with me. I didn’t know how well he could shoot, but I knew he could get a gun in his hand quicker than anybody I’d ever seen. He was like having Ben and Lew Vara all rolled into one beside me. And maybe his presence alone would stop any trouble that might have come up if he hadn’t been along.
He was riding his dun quarter horse. I’d thought of riding the black so as to give Flood a real close look at him, but Wilson had objected. He’d said, “I don’t much like that idea. That horse ain’t used to gunfire. He might spook.”
“You are just not going to let go of it, are you?”
“I don’t know how you got so old as trusting as you are.”
“That would make a lot of folks laugh to hear you say that. I ain’t trusting. I got a brother calculates everything down to the last cent. I’m like that in a lot of ways. If I thought Flood had anything to gain by causing me harm, I’d get that horse some other way. Flood ain’t going to do shit because there ain’t nothing in it for him.”
“Yes,” Wilson had said, “but you ain’t thinking like a lunatic. Flood’s a lunatic.”
We could have talked all day and not got it resolved. Now, on the Texas side, we turned toward the north on a little road that ran down beside the river. I had the four-and-a-half-inch revolver in my holster and the one with the six-inch barrel stuck down in the back of my waistband. Wilson said, “How come you got that second gun?”
“Balance,” I said briefly. “Keeps me from falling off to one side.”
He said, “Oh,” and rolled his eyes.
Pretty soon we struck a little wagon track that turned east. Wilson said, “This is it. In about five yards we’ll be on Flood property.”
“Let’s go.”
We rode on and came to a barbed-wire fence with a gate in it. Wilson got down and opened it. I led his horse through while he closed the gate. He remounted and we rode on. All around us I could see bunches of poor-looking Mexican cattle. Wilson said, “Must have just brought them over. They ain’t had no chance to fatten up.”
We saw a few riders working around amongst the cattle, but Wilson said they were Mexican vaqueros. “They won’t be no trouble to us. If there’s any bother they’ll be back across the border before the echo of the first gunshot has died out.”
Gunpoint Page 29