Uncle Barnes asked, “Did you see the Herald today?”
“Indeed. I checked to see from whence came the story.”
“From the West, was it not?”
“Some sort of fighting in a western town. Danstone, or something like that. Imagine Katherine Winslow out there.”
His uncle said, “She was a headstrong woman.”
“We knew that. She made her own trouble, always.”
They sipped the wine. Then the older man said, “I firmly believe your love is also dead.”
“No. If she were I would know.”
“You repeat over and over that you would know. You cannot know.”
“I can believe.”
“Yes.” The senator was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Bless you, my boy.”
Philip Merrivale lifted his glass. Nothing further on the subject needed to be spoken.
It was evening at El Sol in the town of Sunrise. The musicians had been brought in on the stage. They were seated around the piano.
Missy said to Clayton Lomax, “I’ve never been in this place in my life before.”
Her father said, “It won’t harm you none, daughter. This here’s a special event.”
The dog lay between Renee and Sam. Beaver sat with the Burrs. Donkey and his deputy stood guard at the door.
Sam could not get his mind entirely off that which had transpired. He said to Renee, “Somebody in this town was tipping them off.”
“I know.”
“It could be most anybody. It bothers me a heap.”
“Someday we might find out. Now is not the time.”
He persisted. “Rafferty. I’ll bet on it.”
“So?” She smiled at him. She had completely recovered from her fears. “We’re here. It’s enough.”
It was nearly enough but it left a thread loose. Pompey went to the piano. Sam said, “They want to go home to New Orleans. I promised ’em.”
“We can’t hold them. Let’s listen.” They began to play. El Sol was so quiet that it was like church, Sam thought. They started out with the melody Sam remembered well, “The Saints Come Marching In”.
Renee felt it in a jiffy, he knew without touching her. She responded immediately to the rhythm, the wailing of the horn, the deep richness of the violin. They played on.
When they stopped, hands clapped, glasses banged on tables and the bar. Sunrise had heard the sound of New Orleans and it would never be forgotten.
Dog stuck his muzzle up for petting. Sam obliged, watching Renee’s fingers on the table trying to match those of Pompey. She would get it right, he knew. The new music had come to Sunrise, not Dunstan.
He wondered how the mayor and his wife were doing down there, knowing that their son was crippled, knowing the town was not theirs alone. He thought of the Olsens and Oliver Dixon and people like them. Someday, indeed, Dunstan might rival Sunrise.
That would be another day. He caught one of Renee’s hands and held it as the music filled the saloon to overflowing. Dog muscled between them, demanding his share of attention.
About the Author
William Robert Cox (1901-1988) was a writer for more than sixty years, and published more than seventy-five novels and perhaps one thousand short stories, as well as more than 150 TV shows and several movies on film. He was well into his career, flooding the market with sports, crime, and adventure stories, when he turned to the western novel. He served twice as president of the Western Writers of America, and was writing his fifth Cemetery Jones novel, Cemetery Jones and the Tombstone War, when he passed away. He wrote under at least six pen names, including Willard d’Arcy, Mike Frederic, John Parkhill, Joel Reeve, Roger G. Spellman and Jonas Ward.
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CEMETERY JONES AND THE DANCING GUNS
By William R. Cox
First published by Fawcett Books in 1987
Copyright © 1987, 2019 by William R. Cox
First Digital Edition: February 2019
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Series Editor: Ben Bridges
Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author’s Agent.
Cemetery Jones 3 Page 17
