CHAPTER TEN
A SHORT HORSE
"You took your own time about coming," grunted Rafe Tuckleton.
Dan Slike crossed his knees and stared at Rafe and Skinny Shindle. "Ialways take my own time," said he, in a voice as blank andexpressionless as his ice-blue eyes. "Why hurry?"
"Because you should have hurried," nagged Rafe. "Y'oughta come when Iwrote you last summer. This Tom Walton has gone on living all fall,and here it is January and he ain't dead yet."
"That's tough," sympathized Mr. Slike and wagged a belying foot.
Skinny Shindle, looking somewhat worried, went to the door, opened itand looked out into the short hall. Satisfied that the breed cook wasbusy in the kitchen, he closed the door and returned to his chair.
"It's worse'n that. Tom ain't the only li'l job I want you to attendto. There's the sheriff, Billy Wingo."
"That will be extra."
"Extra?"
"You haven't any idea I'm gonna do two jobs for the price of one, haveyou?"
"Well----"
"Well, nothin'. I ain't in the business for my health, you can gambleon that. If you're looking for charity, you're roping at the wronghorse."
"No, no, nothing like that," Rafe hastened to say. "I'll do whatever'sright and fair. You can trust me."
Dan Slike shook a slow head. An amused twinkle lightened those blankeyes. "Oh, yes," he said. "I'm almost sure I can trust you. Yeah.Almost."
"What do you mean?" blustered Rafe Tuckleton.
"Folks I talk to don't generally need any dictionary," said Slike.
"Huh," grunted Rafe, content to let it go at that. "Anyway, you'll bewell paid."
"I didn't come alla way from the Jornada just to hear you say I'd bewell paid. Your 'well paid' and my 'well paid' might be two differentthings. Sometimes you and I don't talk the same language."
Rafe Tuckleton considered a moment. "Five hundred dollars apiece forTom and the sheriff," said he, looking at Slike from beneath loweredeyebrows.
"We'll bargain for 'em separately," said Slike. "One thousand for Tom,payable in advance."
"No," denied Rafe. "Too much."
"Aw right," assented Slike cheerfully. "I'll be pulling my freight forNew Mexico to-morrow. What you gonna have for dinner?"
"Let's talk it over. One thousand dollars is a lot of money for a li'ljob like rubbing out Tom Walton."
"If it's a li'l job, why don't you attend to it yourself?"
"Oh, I can't. Impossible. Why, man, consider my position."
"Sure, I understand. You'd rather live than have Tom Walton kill you.Don't know that I blame you, Rafe. You always were a sensible jasper."
Slike's eyes dwelt on Rafe's face with tolerant contempt. The redcolor of Rafe's leathery cheeks was not entirely due to the heat of thecannon-ball stove. No.
"I'm not a gunfighter," disclaimed Rafe quickly. "Never was. That'syour job."
"And I am a gunfighter. Always was. And it's my job. And I intend toget my price for my job. One thousand in advance, or the deal's off."
"I'm not a rich man," protested Rafe. "I lack ready money. So doesMr. Shindle here. Say five hundred now and the rest in the spring."
"I know how rich you are," said Slike. "And I can make a fair guesshow you and Mr. Shindle stand for ready money. You can raise thethousand without too much trouble, I guess. Anyhow, it goes."
"You drive a hard bargain."
"A man in my business can't afford to be squeamish." As Slike spokehis eyes narrowed.
"But----"
"No buts. You want Walton killed----"
"Sh-h! Not so loud," cautioned Skinny Shindle. "Removed is a betterword than killed, anyway."
"Aw, hell," sneered Dan Slike, "you make me sick. I've got no use fora jigger that don't call a cow by its right name. I dunno the firstthing about removing. But I'll kill anybody you say. I ain't a bitparticular. Not a bit." Here Slike bent on Skinny Shindle the fullmeasure of a most baleful regard.
The strangely squeamish Shindle strove manfully to stare down the otherman, but dropped his eyes within the minute. This appeared to pleaseMr. Slike. He smiled crookedly and turned his attention to Tuckleton.
"Rafe," said he, "my time is money. I can't stand here higgle-hogglingwith you from hell to breakfast. One thousand, or you get somebodyelse to do the job."
"I suppose I'll have to do as you say," Rafe grumbled. "And the sameamount for the sheriff."
"Not-a-tall," denied Slike. "Not a-tall. Do you think I'm gonna rubout a sheriff for a thousand cases? You must have mush for a brain!Killing a rancher is a short hoss, but a sheriff is another breed ofcat. Besides, he's got two deputies, to say nothing of the feelings ofthe county. Killing this sheriff for you means I gotta leave thecounty on the jump. Do you think I'm gonna run the risk of beinglynched for a measly thousand dollars? If you do, take another think.Take two of 'em! Me, I'll take two thousand for your man."
"Two thousand dollars for simply shooting a sheriff?"
"Again lemme remark that if the business was as simple as you say itis, you'd do it yourself. Two thousand in advance."
"But that's three thousand in all."
"You're a wonder at arithmetic. I make three thousand too."
"But look here, Dan, we----"
"I'm looking," interrupted Slike, "and three thousand dollars is all Ican see. You gotta expect to pay for your mistakes, Rafe. If youdidn't want to have this sheriff hold office, what did you elect himfor? You told me your political outfit was responsible."
"How could we tell he'd turn out this way? We took it for granted he'ddo what the party wanted, and the first card out of the box he appointshis own deputies."
"Good men with a gun?"
"Both of 'em," Rafe nodded absently.
"Wingo's no slouch himself," Shindle supplied without thinking.
"And that's the kind of bunch you want me to go up against for athousand dollars!" exclaimed Dan Slike. "You fellers sure have yournerve!"
Slike teetered his chair back on two legs and laughed loudly, butwithout cheer. Rafe and Skinny found themselves somewhat chilled bythe sardonic merriment. They looked one upon the other. Slike caughtthe look and laughed anew.
"You're a fine pair," he said loudly, "a fine pair. Letting atwo-by-four sheriff run you. Ha-ha, it's a joke!"
"You go slow, you hear!" directed Skinny Shindle.
Dan Slike's eyes slid round to survey Skinny. "Me go slow?" hedrawled, "Who'll make me? You? Not you or Rafe either. Wanna knowwhy? Because I'm the best man in the room, that's why. Wanna arguethe matter?"
Apparently neither Skinny nor Rafe cared to argue. At least they madeno audible reply to the challenge.
Dan Slike nodded a satisfied head. "Now that's settled, let's go backto business. About that three thousand--yes or no?"
Skinny looked at Rafe. Rafe looked at Skinny. Skinny shook his head.Rafe nodded his. Dan Slike, missing nothing of the byplay, smileddelightedly. His thin lips curled into a crooked sneer.
"There seems to be a difference of opinion," said Dan Slike. "Give ita name."
"Three thousand is too much," averred Skinny Shindle.
"You'll only have to pay half of it," said Rafe.
"But this payment in advance--I don't like it," objected Skinny Shindle.
Dan Slike's boots came down from the table. They came down with acertain amount of speed, yet curiously enough they made not theslightest noise as soles and heels struck the floor. Dan Slike's chaircreaked as his body turned ever so slightly sidewise.
"Shindle," said he softly, "you ain't thinking I wouldn't keep my partof the bargain if I take your money, are you?"
"No, oh, no," Skinny reassured him hastily. "Of course you would."
"This being so," pursued Dan Slike, "what's the difference whether youpay me now or later?"
"Why, none," admitted Skinny, finding himself fairly cornered. "Nonewhatever. I--we will pay yo
u what you ask."
"Spoken like a li'l man," fleered Dan Slike, and switched his gaze toTuckleton's face. "Second the motion, Rafe?"
"On one condition."
"Let's have it?"
"You finish both jobs within thirty days."
"No, not thirty days, old-timer, nor yet forty-five. Sixty."
"Thirty."
"Sixty days from to-night and the three thousand dollars, half gold,half bills, in my pocket by noon to-morrow."
"Oh, hell, all right!" Rafe cried, tossing up helpless hands. "Comearound here to-morrow noon and get your money."
Dan Slike nodded. "Guess I'll be going, Rafe--No, nemmine dinner, Iain't hungry now."
The Rider of Golden Bar Page 10
