Drub did not ask why. He placed a big hand on Sassy’s wrist, and grinned. ‘‘We are pards again. Don’t you worry. She will stay put.’’
‘‘What the hell?’’ Vance said.
Sassy tried to stand, but Drub pulled her back down. ‘‘Consarn it! Let go of me. What is this? Tell me what you are up to.’’
‘‘Sometimes we don’t see what is right in front of our face,’’ Boone told her. ‘‘I have been so stupid I should shoot myself.’’
‘‘You are making no sense.’’ Sassy struggled, but Drub’s hand was an iron clamp.
Boone stalked toward the corner table. Some of the rustlers noticed, and froze. Old Man Radler and Skelman were talking to the two new men and it was Skelman who saw Boone coming and took a few steps to one side, his brow knit with interest.
‘‘I hope you work out,’’ Old Man Radler was saying. ‘‘I can always use good men. They are hard to come by and harder to keep. None of us live a long life in this trade.’’
‘‘You have,’’ said the man with the scar.
Boone stopped six feet from the table. ‘‘You might want to get out of the way.’’
Old Man Radler glanced over his shoulder. ‘‘Eh? Oh, Lightning. I want you to meet Tinsdale and Rufio. They will be riding with us.’’
‘‘No, they won’t.’’
‘‘Since when do you say who does and who doesn’t?’’ Old Man Radler went to turn, and stopped. ‘‘What is going on here?’’
‘‘This is between them and me.’’ Boone took a half step to his right so he could see the pair clearly.
Rufio pushed his sombrero back on his head. He had a thick mustache and ferret eyes. ‘‘Do we know you, senor?’’
‘‘I am sure he described me.’’
‘‘Who?’’ Tinsdale casually asked. But his scar twitched and his hand eased toward the edge of the table.
‘‘Those are good horses you have.’’
‘‘Our horses, senor?’’
‘‘At the hitch rail. The ones with Circle V brands. Did he give them to you or sell them to you?’’
Tinsdale’s scar would not stop twitching. ‘‘I don’t have any damn idea what you are talking about.’’
‘‘How about you?’’ Boone asked the Mexican. ‘‘Do you want to play dumb too?’’
‘‘I have no need to play dumb, as you call it, so long as I have my pistola, senor.’’
‘‘You are that sure of yourself?’’
‘‘I still breathe, senor.’’
‘‘And the horses?’’
‘‘As you say, they are good animals. Better than the ones we were riding when we went to your rancho. He had many good horses in the corral.’’ Rufio paused. ‘‘I did not think about the brands.’’
‘‘How much is he paying you?’’
‘‘Five hundred. Each. And a good horse.’’
Tinsdale twisted toward his companion. ‘‘Damn it to hell. Tell him everything, why don’t you?’’
‘‘He has already guessed. What good would lying do?’’ Rufio had not taken his eyes off Boone. ‘‘Is there anything else, senor?’’
‘‘Not unless I can convince you to change your minds.’’
‘‘I am sorry, senor. I am more fond of money than I am of a good horse. Will you permit us to stand?’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘That is a pity, senor. It is harder to draw when sitting.’’
‘‘I know.’’
‘‘You are clever for one so young.’’
‘‘I still breathe,’’ Boone said, and grinned.
Rufio smiled. ‘‘I would like you if I did not have to kill you. You are nothing like him, senor.’’
‘‘Let’s get on with it, shall we?’’
The pair glanced at each other and then both heaved out of their chairs and clawed at their hardware. Rufio was faster and he almost had his pistol out when Boone slammed two shots into his chest. Shifting, Boone fanned another two into the man with the scar. Gun smoke wreathing them, the pair oozed back down and sprawled onto the floor.
For the first time since Boone met him, Skelman laughed. ‘‘I wish I could see that again.’’
‘‘Are you going to tell me what that was all about or not?’’ Old Man Radler demanded.
‘‘No,’’ Boone Scott said.
Good and Evil
The sunset was spectacular. A golden orb, balanced on the brink of the world, splashing the sky with rainbow stripes and candy swirls.
The breeze carried a hint of the coolness night would bring. The land was dry as the land always was in Arizona in the summer, but here and there spots of green testified to the vitality of the plant life.
Boone Scott and Sassy Drecker stood hand in hand on the lip of a dry wash a hundred yards from Porter’s and watched the earth take a bite out of the golden orb.
Sassy glanced over her shoulder at the saloon. ‘‘This is far enough. We can talk in private. And after what you just did, we have a lot to talk about.’’
‘‘I would rather not.’’ Boone had his other hand on his Colt. He raked the wash for sign of tracks and then the surrounding flatland for sign of life.
‘‘You just killed two men. I have seen men die before but never like that. One was a patent medicine man the Apaches got hold of. Another was a farmer whose buckboard overturned on him.’’
‘‘I had to do it.’’
‘‘What else?’’ Sassy asked. ‘‘Or do you expect me to accept that the man I am in love with and want to be with the rest of my life goes around killing people for the fun of it? There has to be more.’’
‘‘There is.’’
Sassy clasped his hand in both of hers, raised his fingers to her lips and kissed him on the knuckles. ‘‘I am waiting.’’
‘‘I would rather not say just yet. Maybe after we meet with the man who is to buy the last of the horses.’’
‘‘Don’t you dare treat me like this. I have given my heart to you and I expect better.’’ Sassy let go of his hand and placed both of hers on his shoulders. ‘‘Look at me. Look me in the eye. I need you to understand how it is between us. If you don’t, there won’t be any us. We will go our separate ways and I will have plenty of hard feelings for you misleading me as you’ve done.’’
‘‘What don’t I savvy?’’
Sassy motioned at the wash, stepped down and sat. Boone eased down beside her and draped an arm across her shoulders. ‘‘I love you, you know,’’ he said.
‘‘And I love you. But there are different kinds of love, and I am not sure now if you love me as I love you or whether you love me another way.’’
‘‘What other way is there?’’
‘‘Maybe you only love me because you get all hot inside when you look at me. Maybe you only love me for the kissing and the hugging. That is one kind of love and it is not the love I feel for you.’’
‘‘You don’t?’’
‘‘Don’t sound so hurt. Of course I want to kiss and hug you, silly. I like to do that more than anything. But that is not all there is to love, or shouldn’t be to a love like ours.’’ Sassy pressed her hand to his chest over his heart and pressed her other hand to her bosom over her heart. ‘‘I want our love to come from in here. I want our love to be deep and true.’’
‘‘So do I.’’
‘‘For it to be that way, Boone, we must be open with each other. There can’t be secrets. I have to understand you and you have to understand me. Not just what we like to eat and the kind of clothes we like to wear. But how we are deep down. How we are in our heart. Does that make sense to you?’’
Boone gestured. ‘‘Sort of.’’
‘‘Think of it this way. The more we share what goes through our heads, the deeper we can see into our hearts.’’
‘‘Damnation. How did you come up with all this? I always thought of love as just love.’’
‘‘Don’t cuss. You got on me about it and I have stopped, so now you must stop cuss
ing too. And there is no just to love.’’ Sassy stopped a moment. ‘‘As for how, when you only have yourself for company, you do a lot of thinking. I expected one day to fall in love. Most folks do. So I thought about what it would be like, and what it should be like.’’
‘‘Am I what you expected?’’ Boone asked.
‘‘You are close as close can be. You would be perfect if you stopped keeping secrets. I have opened my heart to you and for this to work you must open yours to me.’’ Sassy gazed into his eyes. ‘‘What will it be? Do you keep your secrets or do you keep me?’’
‘‘My brother Eppley is out to kill me.’’
‘‘Why? I remember you saying how you went with him to Ranson. How after you shot the man who killed that girl and some others, he convinced you to light a shuck.’’
Boone shared his new suspicion, leaving nothing out. ‘‘I couldn’t figure out why Jarrott tried to bed me down permanent. I thought Condit had something to do with it, although I didn’t know the man and there was no reason in the world for him to want me dead.’’
‘‘And now you credit your brother with the brain-storm?’’
‘‘It had to be someone who wanted me dead so much he was willing to pay to have it done. Someone who knew Condit and Jarrott and where I would be that night.’’
‘‘You own brother?’’
‘‘I figured he cared for me. When he suggested I make myself scarce, I thought he did it to spare my folks the misery my turning into a killer would cause them.’’
‘‘What changed your mind?’’
‘‘When I found out Old Man Radler is selling the rest of the stolen horses to Epp. Although what he wants with so many horses is a mystery. Our ranch already has plenty.’’
‘‘Do you think he plans to resell them for more money?’’
‘‘I will ask him when I see him. But what matters more is that Old Man Radler says my brother is the most vicious coyote in all of Arizona. Coming from him, that says a lot.’’ Boone stopped. ‘‘It woke me up. It made me see my brother in a whole new light.’’ He looked at her. ‘‘How can we be so wrong about someone? I grew up with Epp. I thought I knew him. Sure, he was wild, and sure, he was partial to the company of those on the wrong side of the law. But he’s my brother. We have the same parents. We grew up on the same ranch. How can he have turned out so different from me?’’
Sassy pondered, then pointed toward Porter’s. ‘‘And those men in there? How did they fit in?’’
‘‘They were riding horses with Circle V brands. But our remuda is for Circle V punchers only. We take cattle to market, not our horses. We never sell them. So either those two were stolen or someone gave the horses to them. And the only one who would give them two of our horses—’’
‘‘Is your brother,’’ Sassy finished for him.
Boone nodded. ‘‘It proves Epp did try to have me shot in Ranson. And then he sent those two to finish what Jarrott couldn’t do.’’
‘‘Why are you so pale all of a sudden? Are you afraid he will try again?’’
‘‘I know he will. But it is not that.’’ Boone swallowed and dug his fingers into the dirt. ‘‘It just hit me. I’m worried about my folks. If Epp has done this to me, what will he do to them?’’
‘‘Maybe nothing. Maybe it is just you he hates.’’
‘‘But why? What have I ever done that he would want me dead? I have racked my brain and I can’t for the life of me come up with anything.’’
‘‘Like you said, you can ask him when you see him.’’
‘‘I will do a hell of a lot more than that.’’
Sassy smiled sweetly. ‘‘Don’t cuss.’’
‘‘You are not going to try and talk me out of it?’’
‘‘After what that son of a bitch has done to you? I say kill him, and good riddance.’’
Boone leaned toward her. ‘‘Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?’’
A half-full whiskey bottle was on the kitchen table. An empty bottle was on the floor. Of the three people drinking only the woman in the too-tight dress was tippled.
Epp Scott refilled his glass, raised it and swirled the whiskey. ‘‘I hate ranch life. I hate cows and I hate branding and I hate the god-awful long hours.’’
About to reach for the bottle, Blin Hanks opened his mouth but closed it again.
‘‘What?’’
‘‘I have known you a good long while. Ever since that first night you showed up in Ranson. And since that night I have wanted to ask you something. But I know how mad you get when someone pries, so I am asking if it is all right to ask you now.’’
Alice Thorpe giggled. ‘‘He slapped me once for asking the reason he hired Jarrott to kill his brother.’’
‘‘Is that what you want to ask?’’ Epp said to Hanks.
‘‘My question is bigger than that.’’ Blin Hanks poured and took a gulp. ‘‘I want to know why, Epp.’’
‘‘Why what?’’
‘‘The why to all of it. Why do you rustle? Why do you kill? Why do you gamble and run girls in Ranson?’’ Hanks motioned at the walls. ‘‘This is a fine ranch. Your pa and ma were well-to-do. You never wanted for money your whole life, never wanted for clothes, never had to worry about where your next meal was coming from.’’
‘‘So?’’
‘‘So you had everything. Or at least more than most. Yet it wasn’t enough. You had to have more.’’
‘‘There is your answer.’’ Epp slowly sat up. ‘‘I have never been happy with what I had. I have never been content. When I was little I always wanted the things my ma and pa would not let me have.’’
Hanks went to say something, but Epp held up his hand.
‘‘You got me started, so hear me out. As I recollect, I was seven when I killed our cat. The damn thing scratched my hand. It hurt so much I damn near cried. So when Ma and Pa went to the stable, I got the broom out of the closet and snuck up on the cat while it was sleeping and beat it to death.’’
‘‘You killed a kitty?’’ Alice giggled some more.
‘‘I took the body out the back and stuck it in the wood shed under a pile of logs. Since it was summer no one went into the shed until months later when the weather turned cold and by then most of the stink was gone.’’
Alice giggled.
‘‘I was ten when I killed our dog. It was old and could barely walk, but my ma made me take it out every day so it could go. One day I had enough. I walked it to the stable. None of the punchers were around, so I got hold of the pitchfork. The dog barely let out a whimper. I dragged the body out to the corn patch. When my pa finally found it, he blamed coyotes.’’
Alice threw back her head and yipped like one.
‘‘When I was fourteen we had a maid named Sally. She was seventeen. She came from a poor family over to Tucson. She was heavy and had lips as thick as sausages, but I got it into my head that I wanted her. So one day when my folks were gone I cornered Sally upstairs and had my way with her.’’
‘‘You raped your maid?’’ Alice smacked the table in glee.
‘‘She was my first. She tried to fight, but I was big for my age and I pinned her arms and there was not much she could do. After I was done she lay there and cried and cried until I was fit to take an ax to her head.’’
‘‘Did you?’’
‘‘No, you damned painted cat. I was smart. I offered her a hundred dollars to keep quiet and she took it.’’ Epp held his glass toward the lamp and swirled the whiskey again. ‘‘I learned the most important lesson of my life that day.’’
Alice let out a loud snort. ‘‘That a man has to pay for it one way or another?’’
Ignoring her, Epp went on. ‘‘The next time I had to buy my way out of trouble was when I was sixteen. I went with my pa to Tucson. While he was meeting with a cattle buyer, I went to a bawdy house a friend had told me about. I was having a grand time, but I drank too much and I got into an argument with the girl I had picked. I don’t
remember what it was about. But she made me so mad, I broke the whiskey bottle and cut her.’’
‘‘That was you?’’ Alice said. ‘‘I knew her. Caroline was her name, and I saw her after you got done with her.’’ Alice shuddered. ‘‘You nearly took her nose off. The doctor did the best he could stitching her up, but she had a hard time finding work after that.’’
‘‘Where do you think she got the money for the doc? I paid for him to work on her and I gave her a thousand dollars besides to keep quiet.’’
‘‘That was generous of you seeing as how you ruined her for life.’’ Alice wagged a finger at him. ‘‘You really are a miserable bastard, do you know that?’’
Epp drained his glass and set it down. ‘‘To raise the thousand dollars I had to sell some of my pa’s cows without him knowing.’’
Blin Hanks stirred. ‘‘Was that how you got your start rustling?’’
‘‘That was the first time, yes. I went on living high on the hog, but I had to be careful my parents didn’t catch on or they were likely to throw me out.’’ Epp stood and stretched.
Alice tittered. ‘‘Too bad for them they didn’t toss you out on your ear. They still might be alive.’’
‘‘No. They wouldn’t. Because it came to me that I was going to all that trouble to keep what I was doing secret when I didn’t have to. Not if the Circle V was mine.’’ Epp moved to the stove and picked up the coffeepot and shook it. ‘‘We need a new batch.’’
‘‘Don’t look at me,’’ Alice said. ‘‘I am not your servant. I only came because you promised me that we would have more fun here than in Ranson. But you lied. I am bored to death.’’
Epp set the coffeepot down, stepped to a shelf near the stove and selected a cast-iron frying pan. Hefting it, he came back to the table.
‘‘What are you going to cook with that?’’ Alice asked.
‘‘Brains,’’ Epp said, and smashed the frying pan over the top of her head. The crunch of bone was louder than her bleat of surprise, and then she was sliding from her chair to the floor with her dull eyes fixed on the frying pan that had crushed her skull. Epp placed the pan on the table. ‘‘Did I answer your question?’’ he asked Blin Hanks.
Ralph Compton Bullet For a Bad Man Page 18
