“Sly,” I said, “is it true what they say about you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “What do they say?”
“They say you’ve killed nigh onto a hunderd men,” I said.
“That’s a gross exaggeration,” he said.
“They say you kill for money,” I said. “Someone wants someone else killed, and he pays you a fat fee, and you just go out and kill that poor son of a bitch for him. Course, they say, you push the other feller into going for his gun first, and then you kill him and claim self-defense. You collect your money just the same. That’s what they say.”
“A man makes his living the best way he can,” Sly said.
He was sly, all right. He only sort of answered my question.
“But you ain’t here to kill no one?” I said.
“I was passing through your town,” he said. “It seemed like a nice, quiet, peaceful little town, and I need a rest. That’s the only reason I stopped here. Baijack, everywhere I go, my reputation precedes me. I can’t help that. But a man needs a rest now and then. Even the Widowmaker needs a rest. Okay?”
I looked over and seen that his glass was empty, so I tipped mine up and emptied it. Then I poured us another. “Okay,” I said. Well, we drunk that one, and we talked some more, and by and by ole Bonnie come a-flouncing down the stairs and back over to the table.
“Your bath is ready, Mister Sly,” she said.
He stood up, and so did I.
“Well, whoop-ti-do,” I said, and then I fell over backwards into my chair, and when I hit it, it fell over backward. I was laying on the floor with my legs still up over the damn chair, but even from that awkward position and with the room a-spinning some, I seen ole Sly walk straight and tall beside ole Bonnie a-heading for the stairs. By God, the bastard could hold his booze, and I liked him some better for that.
Chapter Three
Well, hell, I never got my own ass up from offa the floor that night, not that I recall, and not on my own, I reckon. I woke up sometime the next morning on a cot in one of my own jail cells. I wouldn’t even of woke up then, I guess it was about midmoming, but I heard a caterwauling and a door slam, and I raised up my head with a groan, ‘cause it was a-throbbing some, I can tell you. Well, it was ole Peester, our goddamned mayor, what had come in on me in that rude manner. I set up a-holding my head.
“What the hell is this I hear about a professional killer in our midst?” he was a-saying.
“Calm down, Mayor,” I said. “You’re way too loud for me this morning.”
“I understand you have a man named Sly staying at your establishment,” he said. “They tell me he’s a professional killer, a gun for hire. Why haven’t you run him out of town?”
“Now, Mayor,” I said, calling up all the patience I had in me, “he ain’t broke no laws and he ain’t wanted. I got no call to be running him outa town.”
“You mean you can’t run him out just on his reputation?” Peester said.
“You’re the damned pettifogging lawyer,” I said. “You tell me. What if I was to tell him to get his ass outa town, and then he come to you with money for you to represent him. What the hell would you say to that?”
“Well, I —”
“You ain’t got nothing to say now, do you?” I said. “You know goddamn well that I’m right.”
“You could have told him that you were out of rooms.” Peester said. “You could have done that at least.”
“Well, I didn’t, did I?” I said. My head was hurting me so bad that I was quick losing patience with ole Peester. I never much liked him nohow, but he paid my wages as town marshal so I just kinda put up with him. “Now, damn it, unless you shut the hell up about it, I’m a-fixing to toss your ass out onto the street. Who told you about ole Sly, anyhow?”
“Never mind about that,” Peester said.
“Well, then, get the hell outa here,” I said.
Peester grumbled his way back to the front door, and just as he jerked it open, he looked back over his shoulder and said, “You’d better handle this, Baijack. I’m warning you.”
I jumped up and made like I was a-going after him, and he went out quick and slammed the door behind him. I stopped and set back down a-moaning. That fast motion had like to done me in. I set there a-holding my head for a minute or two, and then I got up slow-like and made my way over to my desk. I set down in my big chair and pulled open the desk drawer what held my tumbler and bottle, and I poured myself a healthy drink. A couple of swallers of that good stuff and I felt somewhat better.
I walked on over to the White Owl and had Lillian fix me up a breakfast. Well, she didn’t do it herself. She had ole Horace a-cooking back in the kitchen, but she brung it out to me and tossed the plate down in front of me with a thunk. “That the way you served up ole Sly’s breakfast this morning?” I said.
“He’s a gentleman,” she said.
“Well, I’m your goddamned husband,” I said.
“You might try acting like it now and then,” she said. Damn but she was icy. I just tucked into my breakfast and tried to ignore her attitude. I et it all and slurped up one cup of coffee, and I had done had my fill of the White Owl. I left outa there and went on over to the Hooch House, where I was more at home. First off I seen ole Happy, and I give him a scowl.
“How come you ain’t minding the office?” I said.
He jumped right up. “I’m a-going over there right now,” he said.
Sly was setting at the same back table he’d been at the night before, and he was a-sipping coffee just like before. Just about then, I seen ole Bonnie a-flopping her way downstairs. It was just about her usual time for getting up and around. There weren’t no one else in the place, ’cept for ole Aubrey back behind the bar. I had him bring me some coffee, since I had got me only one cup with my breakfast.
“Good morning, Marshal Baijack,” Sly said.
I looked back at him and nodded my head.
“Join me?” he said.
I picked up my coffee cup and made my way back to the table where he was a-setting, and I pulled out a chair and plopped my old ass down in it. “You don’t look no worse for the wear,” I said. “I hadn’t figgered you for a drinking man.”
“Oh,” he said, “I didn’t put away nearly as much as you did last night.”
“I had a early start,” I said, and I lifted my cup and took a long noisy sip of coffee. ’Bout then ole Bonnie come a-bouncing over to us. Sly stood up and took his hat off. I wrenched up my face at that and just took me another sip a coffee.
“Good morning, Miss Boodle,” he said. “Would you care to join us?”
“I’d be charmed,” Bonnie said, and I groaned. She plopped her ass down and smiled a simpering smile at him, and Aubrey come along a-fetching her coffee to her. “Thank you, Aubrey, dear,” she said.
“You getting that rest you was a-looking for?” I asked Sly.
“Yes,” he said. “So far. I had a good night’s sleep last night, and this morning has been quiet enough.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said, “‘cause I sure ain’t. I’ve done had all kinds of folks a-coming at me wanting to know what the hell you’re a-doing in town and how come I ain’t run you out. You just being here makes my job twice as bad as normal. It’s like you said last night. Your reputation goes out in front of you, and even if you really ain’t fixing to cause no trouble, your reputation does it all for you.”
“You want me to leave town, Marshal?” he asked me, and he looked right into my eyes with his cold, steely gray ones.
“It’d make my life a hell of a lot easier,” I said.
“If I don’t go on my own,” he said, “do you mean to run me out?”
“You ain’t done nothing to give me no cause,” I said.
“And I don’t intend to,” he said. “Baijack, I don’t even know anyone in your town.”
“You don’t got to know them, do you?” I said. “You get a name, and you just go out and find him. Ain’t that
right?”
“I’ve got no name for this town,” he said.
“Well, I hope you ain’t joshing me,” I said, and I slurped down the rest of my coffee. Then I hollered at ole Aubrey and told him to bring me a drink. I reckoned I’d had enough coffee to be wide awake. I was ready for something to get me a-going now for real. He brung me over a full tumbler and set it down in front of me, and just then ole Rumproast Thompson come in through the front door. I heard the door and looked around, and I could see that he was a-looking for trouble. He spotted Sly right off, and he stopped and crouched like as if he was ready to pull iron.
“Sly,” he said. “You son of a bitch. Go for your gun.”
“I got no reason,” Sly said. “I don’t even know you.”
“I know you come here a-looking for me,” Rumproast said. “I’m Jory Thompson. They call me Rumproast. I know who sent you, too. Come on. Get it over with.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, boy,” said Sly.
“I ain’t going to draw first,” Rumproast said. “I know what they say about you. But you’re going to have to draw first on me, ’cause I ain’t going to fall for that trick. You watch him, Baijack. If he comes out alive, it ain’t going to be self-defense. I ain’t pulling first. Go on, you chicken son of a bitch.”
“I’m going up to my room,” Sly said. He pushed back his chair, and Rumproast jerked out his six-shooter. Aubrey fell flat on the floor. Rumproast just only had his shooter up halfway when I heard the roar of Sly’s gun. He was a-holding it under the table, and his shot cut into Rumproast’s thigh. Rumproast yowled out and fell down on the floor. Sly stood up and pulled his shooter out from under the table. He leveled it at ole Rumproast. Rumproast was still a-clutching his own, but it weren’t lifted up. It was just pointed at the floor is all.
“Put it down,” Sly said.
Rumproast raised it up a little. He was a-thinking about it.
“Don’t do it, boy,” Sly said. “It’s not worth it.”
Rumproast made up his mind right quick and raised that gun, and Sly squeezed off another one. This time his lead smashed Rumproast’s right shoulder. I got up and walked over there and kicked his gun across the floor.
“You damn fool,” I said. “Aubrey, get your ass up offa the floor and go fetch the doc. Then get Happy.”
Aubrey got up a-trembling and headed for the door. Just then Happy come a-running in.
“Here’s Happy,” Aubrey said.
“I can see that,” I said, “Go on.”
Aubrey run on out. Rumproast was just a-laying on the floor a-moaning and bleeding. Sly had holstered his gun, and he walked over to stand beside me.
“Do you need me?” he said.
“Naw, hell,” I said. “Go on.”
He went upstairs without looking back.
“Rumproast, you dumb fool,” I said. “You’re damn lucky to be alive. And by the way, you being alive after you went and pulled on him first proves that he weren’t lying to you. If it was you he was after, you’d be dead right now.”
“I’m hurting here, Baijack,” he said.
“Serves you right,” I said. The doc come in then, and he seen Rumproast there staining my floor, and went on over to tend to him. I turned to Happy. “When Doc’s done here,” I said, “take ole Rumproast over to a cell to heal up.”
“What’s the charge, Baijack?” Happy said.
“Disturbing the peace,” I said. “Commencing a gun-fight. Attempted killing. Hell, there’s a whole passel of them. Take your pick or use them all. I don’t give a damn.”
I walked back to the table where I had left my tumbler of good whiskey, and I set my ass down again. Bonnie was still just a-setting there. “My God,” she said. “That man is fast.”
“I reckon,” I said.
“Like greased lightning,” she said.
“He’s a fair hand with a gun,” I said.
“Fair?” she said. “Who you seen better?”
“Hell, Bonnie, I seen them all,” I said. “They’s always someone faster, and they all dies the same way, eventual.” The truth was that I was just about as impressed as ole Bonnie was. I hadn’t never seen no one better than ole Sly. Hell, he was fast and accurate enough that he didn’t even have to kill ole Rumproast in order to keep his own self from getting killed, and that’s pretty damn good. If it’d been me there in ole Sly’s place, why, I’da had to of killed ole Rumproast. I weren’t good enough to be choicey like that. I took me another slug of whiskey, and then I said, “Don’t be going goggly-eyed over no damn gunfighter.”
Bonnie kinda wiggled around, and her titties wobbled something fierce. She leaned toward me with a silly little grin on her face, and she said. “You jealous, Baijack?”
“Hell, no,” I said. “I ain’t jealous a that slicker.” I took me another drink. “You give him his bath last night, did you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said, still a — grinning like that. I thought about slapping that damn grin offa her face, but I figgered that if I was to do that, why, she’d just slip up behind me later with a bottle and bash me in the head.
“I don’t give a damn what you washed,” I said.
“Well, I never,” she said, and a pout set in on her face. She was real ugly whenever that took place. “He wouldn’t even take off his shirt till I left the room, and then he locked the door.”
I wondered if I was going to have to issue another challenge to get him to climb onto ole Bonnie the way I done to get him to take a drink, but then I thought if he took to it the way he took to drink, he’d be at it for three days. I decided to let well enough just be. Bonnie reached over and kinda tickled me under the chin. “Now, cut that out, ole gal,” I said.
“I don’t wash no one but just only you,” she said. “You want a bath, Baijack? You need one.”
“I don’t need no bath this time of the day,” I said. “What if something was to call me to my marshaling duties and me a-laying up there nekkid in a tub of suds?” She commenced to rubbing her great fleshiness all over me just then, and to reaching all over with her hands, too, at the same time, and I kinda felt a hot flush on my face. I picked up my tumbler and drunk it dry. “Come on, sweets,” I said. “I need me a bath.”
We was upstairs for a spell, and whenever we come back down, I was clean as a pin, and I was feeling some spry from the romping I’d had me with ole Bonnie. I come a-tripping on down the stairs like I was forty pounds lighter than what I really was, and Bonnie, she was a-hanging on my arm all the way, tits just a-bouncing. God, when them things done thataway, I wondered how they managed to stay attached to her chest.
Anyhow, as we was stepping down onto the floor I seen ole George Thompson a-coming through the door. That was Rumproast’s daddy. Goddamn, I thought. Here’s more trouble a-coming my way, and that just when I was in such a good mood, too. I shuck Bonnie loose from my arm and walked toward the bar. Ole George met me there, and he had a real stem look on his old face.
“I heard my boy got hisself shot in here today,” he said.
“That’s right, George,” I said, “but he ain’t dead, so don’t go starting no trouble.”
“Sounds to me like the trouble’s done been started,” he said. “I aim to finish it.”
“George,” I said, “your boy ain’t too bright. You know that. He come in here accusing a man of wanting to kill him, and he kept calling for the man to draw down on him. The man wouldn’t do it. Final, the man gets up to go to his room, and ole Rumproast, he just pulls his gun. Well, the man was faster. That’s all. And what’s more, deliberate, the man didn’t kill him, so you ought to be grateful to the man for saving ole Rumproast’s life for you. That’s what you oughta be.”
“You sure that’s how it was?” George said.
“I was setting right there a-watching the whole damn thing,” I said.
“Hell,” George said, “if that boy weren’t shot up, I’d give him a good whupping. Where’s he at?”
“He’s over in my jail,” I said.
“I’ll just go get him and take him on home,” said George.
“I don’t think you’d oughta do that just yet,” I said. “You see, I had him charged with trying to do a killing and several other things, too. Besides, he’s shot up pretty bad, and he’s a hell of a lot closer to the doc over there in my jail than what he would be way out there at your place. You just go on over there and see him now if you want to, but just leave him in there for now. I figger his jail time oughta be just about as long as it takes for him to heal up real good.”
George thought about that for a couple of seconds. Then he said, “Yeah. I see what you mean. Well, I’ll just go on over there and see him.”
“You just tell ole Happy that I said it’s all right,” I said.
“Yeah,” said George, and he turned around and walked outa the Hooch House kinda slow with his shoulders slumped and his head a-hanging. Bonnie come up slow beside me.
“You took care of that real good, Baijack,” she said.
“It’s just all a part of my marshaling job,” I said.
“Poor ole George,” she said.
“Poor?” I said. “How come?”
“Well,” she said, “his boy all shot up like that.”
“His boy’s alive,” I said. “He’s lucky ole George, I’d say. Unless you want to call him poor ole George on account of he’s got such a dummy for a kid. Now, that’s a reason for feeling sorry for him if you want one.”
“Oh, Baijack,” she said.
I walked on up to the bar, and I never even had to say nothing. Aubrey brung me a clean tumbler and a bottle, and he poured me a full glass. I took me a good swaller. It was just fine. Aubrey served up a drink for ole Bonnie too. She took a sip and then she hugged my arm again. “You want to go set, Baijack?” she said.
“Let’s go,” I said, and we went over to a table and set down. Just as we got settled, I seen ole Sly a-coming back down the stairs. He give me a look, and I nodded. Whenever he come close enough, I invited him to set with us and he did. He signaled Aubrey for coffee.
The Gunfighter Page 3