Wichita Town Tamer

by Dale Graham

  Harlem Mordecay introduced each of the acts with a few risque jokes thrown in to keep the rabble in the stalls entertained. To follow there were acrobats, jugglers and even a performing dog. The final act before the interval was given a special introduction.

  The band played the opening bars of a song with which everybody in the room was familiar, ‘Sweet Betsie From Pike’. The dulcet tones of the singer reverberated around the room. Then she appeared, sashaying on stage clad in a gorgeous outfit that left little to the imagination. The room erupted. This was what they had all come to see.

  Cal stared at his wife, unable to remove his eyes. She was just as lovely as he remembered. Lust mingled with resentment at others being able to enjoy what he considered to be a private display. How could she have lowered herself to this? The innocent young school ma’am he had married was now public property, and it hurt.

  More songs followed, but Cal barely heard a single word. Before the curtain fell to herald the end of the first half of the show, the marshal made his way down to the main auditorium. Passing through the adjacent room where gambling and refreshments were laid on for the dignitaries, Cal failed to noticed the croupier at the roulette wheel.

  Unknown to the lawman, Candy Flowers had been loaned to the theatre just for this opening night. The girl certainly spotted her alienated beau and the fact that he was headed for the performers’ dressing rooms at the rear of theatre.

  ‘And I know exactly where you’re going, fella,’ she murmured under her breath. Without any further ado, Candy called for one of the other girls to replace her. ‘Take over for me will you, Riva. I won’t be long,’ she said. ‘Just need to powder my nose.’ Then she left, cautiously trailing after the oblivious Cal Bonner.

  At the end of a corridor, she paused. Cal had stopped at the door occupied by the star of the show. His knock was restrained, cautious. A nervous expectancy gripped his innards. Would Adele be pleased to see him? Throw herself into his arms? Or would it be a summons to the final reckoning, that irrevocable split? Conflicting visions of hope and despair tore at his heartstrings in the brief seconds it took for a muted response to come through the closed door.

  ‘Come in.’ The summons was brisk and upbeat. Tilly was still basking in the adulation from the crowd following her rousing performance on stage. That’s what fame did and why she enjoyed it so much. The door opened. The lady in question sat facing a mirror rearranging her hair and make-up for the second half of the show. ‘Take a seat,’ she said oblivious to the identity of the visitor. ‘I’ll be with you in a second.’ All her attention was focussed on achieving the perfect image.

  ‘Hello, Adele. It’s been a long time.’

  For a moment there was no reaction from the singer. Nobody had addressed her by her birth name since that last day in Bonanza when her husband had left their home to pursue yet more violent miscreants. She had become so used to being called Tilly. Then the penny dropped. Her heart beat faster. Her back stiffened. Slowly she turned round to face the man she had prayed would come.

  And there he was. Neither spoke for a long minute. It was Adele who broke into the charged atmosphere. ‘I was wondering if you’d come,’ she whispered in that husky drawl that had so captivated him all those years ago. ‘It seems strange to be called by my real name after all this time.’

  ‘When you sent the theatre ticket, I figured that maybe. . . .’ He swallowed. A dry tongue anxiously lapped across his lower lip. ‘. . . Maybe there might possibly be a chance for us to . . ‘

  ‘That all depends on you, Cal,’ the girl interrupted. ‘I’ve never stopped loving you. Sure, there have been men who wanted more than I could give. Perry Blaine is the latest and most irksome of the bunch. But there could never be anyone else.’

  ‘I guess it’s all up to me then,’ the lawman declared advancing slowly into the room. ‘Whether I can manage to forsake the life I lead.’

  ‘If you love me as much as I love you, that has to be a consideration. I can’t live with the constant danger of you being shot down like a dog. That was the reason I left in the first place.’

  Cal reached out and took her hand in his. A tingling sensation rippled through his lean frame. ‘I ain’t never looked at another woman since you left. And that’s a fact. It was always you, Adele. And still is.’

  Her will to resist this man’s earnest entreaties was wilting rapidly. Yet still there were doubts. ‘I have made a good life for myself over the years. Fame and fortune is a potent inspiration. But that can’t be all that life has to offer.’

  Their eyes met. Then their bodies intertwined in that age-old ritual first enacted when Adam found Eve. At that moment, nothing else mattered.

  Outside, Candy Flowers couldn’t bear to hear anymore. The man she had so earnestly thought would carry her off on a white horse to live that fairytale dream was nought but a cheating rat. No better than all the other wheedling skunks in whom she had placed her trust.

  Tears flowed. But they soon dried up as a seething demand for revenge burned deep in her bosom. Candy had not become a leading lady in a man’s world without nerves of steel and a skin tougher than bull hide. Anybody who had ever messed with this dame had come out much the worse for their encounter. She toyed with the small pocket Wesson .22 pistol in her purse.

  On more than one occasion Candy had been forced to use it, and to lethal effect. Tough guys who thought they could have it all were now worm bait.

  There had been numerous other men in her life. All had promised the earth and ended up leaving her high and dry once their passion had been sated. Only Cal Bonner had seemed genuine, a true gentleman. Now even he had played her false.

  Yet because her hopes had been raised to such a high level, equally her thirst for revenge was no less ardent. She stumbled back down the corridor. For the rest of the evening she was barely able to function.

  She had later poured her heart out to Riva Speedwell, the other croupier. The girl had voiced her commiserations. ‘Don’t take it to heart, honey,’ the older woman sympathized. ‘All men are the same. Just one thing on their minds. My advice is to forget about him.’

  But Candy was beyond that. She wanted revenge. And it showed. Mistakes were made; gamblers needed pacifying when their winnings were short-changed. A stream of virulent cussing issued from between those luscious pouting lips bringing startled looks from nearby punters. Candy was oblivious to the stares.

  ‘What in tarnation is wrong with you tonight, Candy?’ Blaine hollered after challenging her following the third such episode. ‘You’re normally a sharp operator on the tables. Now get a grip on yourself, or there’ll be trouble.’

  ‘Sorry about that, boss,’ the girl profusely apologized, realizing that no good would come of allowing herself to fall apart. ‘I received some bad news earlier. My mother passed away a couple of days ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ the theatre owner said, curtailing his angry tirade. ‘But you can’t allow personal feelings to interfere with your work. Take an hour off to settle yourself down. Then go see about your ma’s funeral. I’ll square it with Meek.’

  Candy thanked the guy then left to figure out how best to make that bastard pay for treating her like dirt. Back in her room later that night, she soon calmed down. Her thoughts moved swiftly towards retribution. There was no way she would allow that slattern to steal her man. Candy had reconciled herself to the inevitable fact that she and the marshal were now history. So how to make certain her chilling thirst for vengeance achieved a satisfactory conclusion?

  It was not until the quiet of the early hours that the idea was born. The skunk was going to learn at first hand that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Candy’s eyes burned brighter than the silver-painted moon shining through her window. Marshal Cal Bonner had definitely bitten off more than he could chew. No man was going to toss her aside like an old shoe.

  Candy had accrued savings of around 300 dollars. It had originally been to have a special wedding dress and trou
sseau made. Now that money was to hire the services of men who harboured a grudge against the Wichita lawman.

  Wyoming Bill Gannon had stayed behind in town after his two men were thrown into the can. The foreman’s threat to bust them out had come to nothing. Bear River Cal’s fists had seen to that. The three men were feeling humiliated after being forced to pay their fines. And they had voiced their resentment in no uncertain terms in the Prairie Dog following their release from custody.

  Although she had no liking for the raucous trio, Candy was sure that 300 bucks would be enough to persuade them to remove Cal Bonner from circulation, on a permanent basis. The cowboys were known to have established themselves in the Plainsman saloon. It was more than likely by this time that the dough they had made from the cattle drive would be almost spent. Any day now they would be forced to head back south to Texas.

  She needed to act fast.

  Next morning Candy hurried down to an abandoned shack on the edge of town, which the trio had appropriated. Smoke dribbled from the stovepipe telling her they were at home. If such could be said of the grubby hovel. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. The smell of stale sweat and rancid grease had even permeated the wooden shell. With some degree of hesitancy, she knocked on the door.

  It opened slowly, a gun barrel poking through. ‘Who’s there?’ posed the suspicious growl of Smiley Dodd. The cowpoke had earned his nickname after a knife-fight that went wrong. His opponent’s unlucky slash had ripped a chunk from his lip giving the cowboy a permanent leer.

  ‘It’s me, Candy Flowers,’ the girl croaked as the odious reek tried to escape the confines of its prison. ‘I have a proposition for you boys.’

  ‘Let her in,’ hollered out the voice of Wyoming Bill. ‘This might prove interesting.’ Gannon was of a mind they were going to be offered a little fun on the side by the delectable croupier.

  Candy recognized the lecherous crow and quickly put him right. ‘This visit ain’t for what you’re thinking, Bill. So get that out of your dirty mind straight away.’ No more time was wasted in idle chatter as the visitor got down to business. ‘How would you boys like to earn 300 bucks?’

  The startled cowpokes looked at one another. Divided between them that was more than three months’ wages for a humble drover. ‘What do we have to do for it?’ Wyoming Bill shot back with a sceptical leer. ‘Some punter vamoosed with the takings of your roulette wheel?’ The three men chuckled.

  Candy forced herself to ignore the caustic jibe. She needed lowlife skunks like these to retrieve her self-respect. She cast a jaundiced eye over the sour-smelling trio. Their duds were badly in need of repair. The only things about them kept in good condition were the guns openly on display. That at least was a positive sign.

  ‘I want somebody removed from my life,’ she murmured in a low voice. ‘Permanently!’

  That soon caught their attention. All three had killed men at some point in their lives. But it had only been Indians and greasers trying to steal cattle. And they didn’t count. This was something else entirely. ‘We need to talk this over,’ Gannon informed the girl as the three men moved away to discuss the proposition.

  Five minutes later they returned. ‘Three hundred ain’t much for killing a guy who’s done us no hurt,’ Gannon said. His two buddies nodded their agreement.

  ‘It’s all I have. So take it or leave it,’ the girl snapped. Hands on hips, she stared them out. Candy had no intention of walking away without a deal. ‘Before rejecting my offer you should know that the guy I want removing is Marshal Bonner.’

  ‘Bonner!’ Snake-Eyed Bob Jarman exclaimed rubbing the bruise on his head, an unwelcome present from the much-hated lawman. ‘I’d deem it a pleasure to cut that varmint down to size. What about you, buddy?’

  Smiley Dodd was of an equal mind. ‘I’m with you, Snake. That critter has been strutting around like a peacock for too darned long.’ Both men looked to Bill Gannon for the final say-so.

  ‘This turkey must have done something awful bad to turn you into such a goddamned fireball, Candy,’ Gannon said, hawking out a lusty chuckle.

  ‘My reason for wanting that sonofabitch out of the way is no concern of your’n,’ she snapped back. ‘Now are you in or out? There are plenty more dudes around who’d welcome the job.’

  The foreman was not to be rushed. He knew this was in the bag. Only drunks or those with enough reason to go up against Bonner would accept such a job. But a little play-acting gave a boost to his ego. He lit up a smoke as if considering the proposition. A long minute passed before he palmed a large .36 Remington Rider revolver and stroked the long barrel.

  ‘Reckon you’ll be needing a fresh coat of oil if’n there’s work to be done.’ The ugly grin that split open a grizzled face told its own story. ‘So how do you want this done, Candy?’ he posited, holding out a hand for the agreed fee.

  ‘Any way you want to play it,’ she replied, trying to contain her eagerness. ‘Just so long as the rat is taken off the streets. What I can tell you is that he always takes a coffee with bartender Wishbone Adderley in the Drovers’ House around ten o’clock every morning.’

  Candy stood up and turned to leave. A hundred dollars in used notes was slapped down on the table. ‘That’s on account. You get the rest after the job’s done.’ She paused at the door of the grubby pit. ‘There’s one condition. No mention of me when you call him out. And once you’ve done it, get out of Wichita fast and don’t look back. I never want to see your ugly kissers again.’

  And with that parting retort, she left the hired gunmen alone to discuss their strategy.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  . . . Like a Woman Scorned

  Candy was watching the street from her room above the Prairie Dog. The tense atmosphere showed on the girl’s drawn face. Her fingers were gripping the windowsill so tight the knuckles showed whiter than the driven snow. Four days had passed since her clandestine meeting with the Lazy K rannigans. This morning was the time agreed for the showdown.

  The need to assuage her humiliation had wavered not a jot during that interim period. If anything it had festered and grown. Having to live in such close proximity to that pair of canoodling love rats made her skin crawl. Thick-rouged lips drawn back in a rictus of loathing revealed an irreparable determination to see this dire episode through to its brutal climax.

  Moments later her hate-filled eyes glittered with anticipation. There they were. Three horses walking side-by-side up the middle of Kingman. Hats pulled low, the riders sat erect as they swung in to a hitching rail two blocks down from the Drovers’ House. They slowly dismounted before checking their weapons. In line abreast, they walked down towards the diner, stopping outside. There, they spread out to present a wider target.

  Wyoming Bill’s gruff summons penetrated the closed window where Candy stood. ‘You in there, Bonner?’ It was a melodramatic question. Gannon had been fully apprised of the marshal’s regular habit. ‘I’m calling you out, tinstar. So don’t keep me waiting.’

  Passers-by stopped. At one time in the not too distant past, shoot-outs had been a regular occurrence in Wichita. But since the passage of the law that banned the wearing of guns on the streets, such incidents had been dramatically curtailed.

  Again the hard, grating voice rang out. ‘You hear me, Bonner? Are you coming out or do we have to come in and get you?’

  Inside the diner, Cal was enjoying his usual coffee and a slice of cinnamon cake. Being thus interrupted was irksome. He scowled. Who in tarnation was causing a ruckus at this hour of the day? He turned to a young boy employed to clear the tables. ‘Go on out there, kid, and see what this jasper wants. Disturbing my snack time ain’t to be taken lightly.’

  ‘Sure thing, Marshal,’ the youngster replied, eager to add some excitement to his mundane life. Willy Juniper hurried outside where the men were waiting.

  The three Texans had their slickers pulled back revealing well-kept hardware worn at the hip and ready for use. Broad-brimmed high-crowns shaded their up
per features. Grim snarls told the kid this was no friendly visit.

  Nerves clutched at the boy’s guts. ‘The m-marshal wants to know what you w-want with him,’ he stammered out.

  ‘You tell that son of the devil it’s unfinished business with Wyoming Bill Gannon.’

  Willy hustled back inside the diner. ‘I heard him, kid,’ Bonner said before the boy could open his mouth. He flicked a dime up into the air. The shiny coin was snatched out of the air with practiced dexterity, its validity tested with a quick bite. Satisfied, the dime vanished into Willy’s pocket.

  Cal grinned at the kid’s distrustful action. He finished his coffee and stood up. ‘You go tell those fellows that I’ll be out when I’ve finished my cake.’ Willy just stood there, transfixed. ‘Go on, boy, earn your pay. We can’t have those bad boys coming in here, can we?’

  ‘N-no sir, w-we sure can’t,’ Willy replied, hurrying back to relay the marshal’s response to the call out.

  Gannon was fuming. ‘What does that critter think he’s a-doing of? Telling me to wait on his pleasure?’ But the foreman had no wish to enter the diner where his adversary would have a distinct advantage.

  ‘What we gonna do, Bill?’ asked Smiley Dodd. ‘We can’t just hang around out here. It ain’t dignified.’

  The need for a decision was taken out of their hands, the object of their quest appearing from the side alley abutting the Drovers’ House. Bonner had exited through the rear door to catch the three gunmen on the hop. Bonner had removed his jacket to reveal black pants held up by suspenders. The twin-rigged gun belt with its crossed revolvers were now all the easier to reach, a vital necessity when having to face down three mean-eyed skunks seeking revenge.

  ‘You boys looking for me?’ he said breezily, effecting a slight bow.