Blood and Bullets

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “All I know is what I saw with my own two eyes,” Kate said. “There are only so many conclusions one can draw from that.”

  “Yeah. Well, the only right conclusion is that she was here strictly on business.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that. Then the question becomes . . . her kind of business, or yours?”

  “Okay. That’s about enough.” Firestick scowled. “As you likely know by now, I’ve got a report to write for the council meeting at nine. So I don’t have time to fool around.”

  Kate being a member of the town council, Firestick figured she’d gotten notice of the meeting.

  “Does that mean the ‘no fooling around’ rule also applied while Little Miss Cleo was here?” she prodded.

  Firestick scowled some more, said nothing.

  At last Kate put away the act and came forward, smiling. “Lucky for you, I’m not the jealous type. I must admit, though, I was a little surprised by the sight of your visitor who just left.”

  “So was I,” Firestick admitted, relieved to see her smile. “I was even more surprised to find out she ain’t quite the schemin’, troublemakin’ little hussy I had her pegged to be.”

  “Oh? Does that mean you won’t be in such a big hurry when it comes to, and I quote, ‘runnin’ her pretty little ass out of town’?” Kate had been in the street last night and had obviously overheard the marshal’s words to Earl Sterling.

  Firestick twisted his mouth ruefully. “Ain’t necessarily out of the question, not altogether. But, for the time bein’, let’s say it don’t seem quite as urgent as it did when I said those things.”

  Kate came around the end of the desk and placed her hands on his chest. “I’m glad to see you’ve cooled down some. You were coiled awfully tight last night. That’s why, when I saw Moosejaw up the street and he told me you were in town, I wanted to come and find out how you were.”

  Firestick put his arms around her and laced his fingers behind the small of her back. “Like you said, I’ve cooled down some. I’m okay now—better still, with you around.”

  “After our talk the other day, following the shooting of Orval Retlock and the way it troubled you . . . well, with the shooting of those four men last night and especially knowing I was the one who encouraged you to go confront them, I wasn’t sure . . .”

  Firestick spread his mouth in a reassuring smile. “You worry too much. Those skunks from last night ain’t worth it. They got what they deserved. Hell, they were the type practically born for it. In their case, it was just a matter of time. With Orval, it was different. If things hadn’t taken the bad turn like they did, he could’ve got his bullyin’ ways straightened out and had a future, maybe made something of himself. That’s the shame of it, what made it different with him. But it’s past now. I guess it went the way it was written. I got it squared in my head . . . I’m okay. You don’t have to worry.”

  Kate pressed hard against him for a long moment, feeling good in his arms. “That’s good to hear,” she said. Then she leaned back a bit and looked up at him. “So now allow me to move on to another worry. How do things stand with Beartooth and Victoria? How did her talk with the Englishman go?”

  “Far as I know, nothing’s settled,” Firestick replied. “When we got back to the ranch last night and she saw Beartooth had been wounded, that was what got all of her attention.”

  “At least she didn’t give any indication that Shaw had swept her off her feet and she was ready to go back with him. That’s a good sign, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Reckon you could take it that way. She’ll be talkin’ with Shaw again today, when she comes into town later. In the meantime, me and Moosejaw left Beartooth behind at the ranch this morning so he could have his chance to talk with her.”

  “Do you think he’s ready to actually let her know how he feels about her?”

  “I believe so. It’s built up in him something fierce now that the thought of maybe losin’ her to this Englishman has hit him.” Firestick made a face. “If he don’t get around to levelin’ with Victoria about his feelin’s now, then he deserves to have her stole away.”

  Kate pulled gently out of his embrace. “All we can do is hope it works out for both of them. Now you’d better get back to your report and I’ve got plenty else to tend to myself. But before I go, I’ll get a fresh pot of coffee cooking for you.”

  * * *

  “Oh . . . my . . . lord.”

  Josh Stallworth stopped short in his ascent up the stairs leading to the sleeping loft over Greeble’s General Store. He halted so abruptly that Charlie Gannon, coming up behind him, bumped his shoulder against Josh’s rump.

  “What the hell you doin’, stoppin’ like that?” Charlie demanded.

  “I’m pausin’ to drink in the vision of an angel,” Josh replied in an odd, almost dreamy tone.

  The two men were three-quarters of the way toward the top of an outside stairway that extended up the back side of the building. The area behind the store included a sort of meandering lane, not really an alley, that wound behind several of the businesses on this side of Trail Street. What Josh was referring to—and where his gaze was locked—was the sight of Cleo walking along this lane on her way from the jail to the Lone Star Palace Saloon.

  Charlie obviously saw her, too. “Okay, I’ll give you that she’s a vision. Mighty pretty gal,” he allowed. “But I ain’t sure about the angel part and I don’t see how you can be, either.”

  “I don’t need to know nothing more than what I can see. To me, she’s an angel and that’s all there is to it,” Josh said firmly. “What’s more—she’s gonna be the one, Charlie.”

  “The one what?”

  “The one I’m gonna take for my bride. Ever since we got here—just like you been doin’—I been walkin’ around studyin’ the different gals we see. There’s been a lot of pretty ones and some of ’em I sorta thought in my head would probably be okay for me. But one glance just now and all that went out the window.” Josh heaved a big sigh. “Ain’t no sense lookin’ no more. Not for me.”

  “Then good for you,” said Charlie. “Now all you got to do is figure out how you’re gonna know where she’ll be tomorrow in the middle of all the hoopla so’s you can grab her when we’re ready to light out.”

  “Don’t worry. Now that I got her picked out, I ain’t about to fail at bein’ able to find her again when it counts.” Josh’s eyes had never left Cleo as she moved farther away down the lane. Now, briefly, he cut a glance down at Charlie a couple steps below him. His expression turning somewhat concerned, he said, “But what about you, Charlie? You’re gonna want to be gettin’ a gal picked out for yourself pretty quick, too, ain’t you?”

  “Don’t worry. I got plenty of time,” Charlie said. “I ain’t necessarily lookin’ to pick one out in advance. I figure with the picnic and all the other activities goin’ on, there’ll be plenty to choose from and I won’t have no trouble spottin’ a good one when the time is at hand.”

  “Well, if that’s the way you want to do it, then I guess that’ll work out okay.” Josh’s gaze had returned to Cleo, who by now had proceeded several buildings down the lane, all the while oblivious to the men watching and discussing her. As Josh continued to watch, she turned and went in the back entrance of the Lone Star Palace Saloon.

  “Whoa now,” said Charlie, who was also watching. “Did you see that?”

  Josh answered, “Yeah, she went in that building down the way. She was bound to be headed somewhere.”

  “You know what that building is, don’t you? That’s the saloon that’s been pointed out to us as havin’ workin’ gals available.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  Charlie gave him a look. “Your ‘angel’ is goin’ in there, Josh. Ain’t you worried she might be . . . well, one of the doves?”

  “Those kind of gals ain’t hardly ever out and about this early in the day, Charlie. More likely she’s a cleanin’ lady or maybe a barmaid showin’ up for work.”

  “Yea
h, I don’t dispute she must be showin’ up for work. But she didn’t look much like no cleanin’ lady I ever saw. Don’t it bother you there’s at least the chance she might, you know, be there for that other kind of work?”

  Josh continued to stare at the back door of the building his angel had disappeared through. He looked thoughtful, not responding right away. Then, abruptly, he said, “No. That don’t matter to me. If that’s the way it is, then it’s something I’ll be savin’ her from. She’s still my angel, and I still aim to make her my wife.”

  * * *

  On the crest of a low hill off to the northwest, four riders sat their horses and gazed in the direction of Buffalo Peak less than a mile in the distance.

  When Pierce Torrence finally lowered the binoculars he’d been holding to his eyes for the past minute, Leticia Beauregard, mounted to his left, said, “Something sure kept you looking. What did you see that was so interesting?”

  “Lots of activity going on down there,” Torrence replied.

  Leticia frowned. “Hell, I can tell that much even without the glasses. A town of any size on a Saturday morning—you’d expect there to be a lot of activity.”

  “Of course. But I mean a level of activity that’s unusually high, even for a Saturday morning.”

  “Enough of it, looks to me,” said Black Hills Buckner, on the other side of Torrence, “that it’s even spillin’ out of the town. Ain’t that some tents and campsites I see scattered around the edges?”

  “Yes, it is,” Torrence confirmed.

  “And there’s more pourin’ in,” added Romo Perlison from where he was reined up next to Black Hills. He pointed. “There’s a wagon loaded with what looks like a whole family rollin’ up over yonder. And a ways to the west of them there’s some riders comin’.”

  “Only thing I can think of that brings folks flocking from all around that way,” said Leticia, “is a public hanging. Must be somebody pretty important.”

  “You’re on the right track, my dear,” Torrence told her. “But it’s not a hanging.”

  “What is it then?”

  “Just an old-fashioned community celebration. A festival of some kind. There’s a banner stretched high across the middle of the street identifying what exactly it is they’re celebrating, but the angle from here is wrong for me to be able to read all of it. I can only make out that it ends in ‘Festival.’”

  “Well, that don’t make no never mind to me,” said Romo. “One festival is as good as another. Let’s spur these hayburners on down there and join in the fun.”

  “Not so fast,” Torrence was quick to counter.

  Romo’s face stretched with a pained expression. “Aw, come on, Pierce. Not even for a little while? When the good Lord plops something like this down in front of you, it’s like an omen. A good omen! It’d be a shame, almost a sin, not to take advantage of it.”

  “The only thing we’re here to take advantage of is the money in the bank that’s somewhere down there,” Torrence reminded him.

  “And all this activity and people in town means lots of business for the stores and saloons and that means lots of money that will end up in that bank,” added Leticia. “There’s the real good omen in this!”

  “So where’s the harm in havin’ a little fun first—eatin’ some spicy food, maybe swingin’ our hips to a dance or two if they got a band playin’—and then hittin’ the bank?” Romo pleaded. “Didn’t you ever hear of sometimes combinin’ business with a little bit of pleasure?”

  “Shut up, Romo,” growled Black Hills.

  Romo glared at the big man. But he kept quiet while doing it.

  “The thing we’ve got to remember,” said Torrence, “is that we’ve managed to get our descriptions plastered on a fair number of wanted posters over the past year or so. The four of us, especially with Leticia being a woman and Black Hills being as sizable as he is, make a fairly distinct group. So even while we haven’t pulled any jobs in this area before, that doesn’t mean our descriptions haven’t circulated this far. What it does mean is that the days of all of us riding into a town and giving the place a good looking over before we do what we came for are gone. We need to be smarter than that.”

  The gang leader paused to let his words sink in, his gaze raking the faces of all about him before he continued, “Arriving here to find this festival going on—whatever it’s about—is what’s known as a two-edged sword. The edge that works in our favor, as Leticia recognized, is that it means an extra influx of money into the town, into the bank we aim to hit. The edge that works against us is all the extra sets of eyes and guns that are on hand while the merriment is taking place. In other words, the much greater chance of being spotted and recognized, and that many more men available to give chase after we commit our robbery.”

  “So what’s the answer?” Leticia said. “How do we take advantage of one, yet guard against the other?”

  Torrence smiled tolerantly. “Patience. As is often the case, that’s the short, simple, wisest answer. By my reckoning, today is Saturday. That means tomorrow is Sunday, when the bank will be closed. Since we didn’t come equipped with dynamite to stage an after-hours robbery, that leaves the choice of either attempting to carry out some slapdash plan today or waiting until Monday when the bank re-opens—at which time it will be at its plumpest with deposits from festival business.”

  Romo made a face. “Jeez. You mean we rode hard all this way just to hold off another couple days before we do anything?”

  “What we came all this way for was to rob a bank,” Torrence bit off from between clenched teeth. “Circumstances now dictate the way to do that with the best chance for success, and the least risk, is to wait until Monday. Now, unless you think you’ve got a better idea for how to get it done and are ready to take over running this outfit—that’s the way it is.”

  Romo quickly withered under the flinty gaze that accompanied Torrence’s words. “Sure, Pierce. Whatever you say. I was just . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

  “Shut up, Romo,” Black Hills growled.

  CHAPTER 22

  The meeting with the town council went well, although it dragged out quite a bit longer than anyone came prepared for. All five council members had busy schedules to keep, especially with the upcoming festival activities.

  They passed around Firestick’s report on last night’s shoot-out and each scanned it dutifully, though they all seemed quite familiar with the details in advance. Kate’s relationship with the marshal was no secret to anyone on the council, yet there was no questioning the merit of her complimentary words, and the rest of the council—to Firestick’s discomfort and embarrassment—readily added to the praise.

  Then they got into a general discussion about ongoing trouble related to the Lone Star Palace’s soiled doves, as well as possible retaliation from cohorts of the four men who’d been cut down. Firestick managed to ease concerns about the latter by reporting on the telegram he’d sent to the El Paso sheriff and how he believed it would effectively stop any further trouble from that source.

  As far as trouble stemming from the Lone Star Palace doves, he informed the council of his plans to impress on Earl Sterling the necessity for keeping tighter control over future outbreaks of trouble in his saloon.

  Unless, he tossed out for consideration, they wanted to reconsider outlawing prostitution within the city limits. This turned into a hot potato that ended up taking considerable time. Much as some were uncomfortable with the whole moral issue, it came down to a practical consensus that—given the growth of surrounding cattle ranches and thereby the increasing number of restless young cowboys showing up in town to spend their money and “have a good time”—the availability of willing doves to help these roosters let off some steam was arguably better than what they might pursue as an alternative.

  So, when all was said and done, Firestick was left to proceed with the steps he’d outlined and once again continue handling matters as best he saw fit.

  * * *

/>   Quitting the bank building where the meeting had been held, Firestick paused on the boardwalk out front to talk more with Kate. It was nearly noon now and the day was bright and warm under a cloudless sky, only a faint hint of breeze. With sunshine pouring over her and even with the bustle and dust of traffic moving up and down Trail Street in the background, Kate looked nothing short of stunning. Her pale skin took on a golden hue in the sunlight, and her glossy black hair shone in marked contrast.

  “Didn’t you ever hear it’s not polite to stare?” she teased, tilting her head back to return Firestick’s adoring gaze.

  “Hang what’s polite and what ain’t,” he replied gruffly. “Anybody looks as fine as you deserves to be stared at. It ought to be illegal not to. And, since I’m the law hereabouts . . .”

  “So you want other men looking at me the way you are now?”

  “I couldn’t hardly blame ’em . . . long as I didn’t catch ’em at it.”

  Kate gave a little laugh. “You lay down some rather peculiar laws, Mr. Marshal.”

  “Maybe so. I’m also mighty good at enforcin’ ’em. Reason I know is, that bunch of folks in there”—he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the bank—“just got done tellin’ me I was. Thanks to some promptin’ from you, that is.”

  “They all know what a good job you do for our town. I just thought I’d take the chance to remind them.”

  Firestick frowned. “Well, I wish you wouldn’t. It was kinda embarrassin’.”

  Kate placed a hand on his chest and smiled impishly. “Would you rather I tell them about other things you’re particularly skillful at?”

  “Probably best hold off on that, too. Leastways not in front of the whole council. Especially not Trugood, the bank president—I expect it might give him a heart attack. Just talkin’ about those soiled doves a while ago got him so het up he broke out in a hard sweat and blushed red as a boiled tomato.” Firestick arched a brow. “If I didn’t know better, I might think he’s got a particular weakness when it comes to those doves.”