“You heard me. Win is right. If anyone earned full shares, they did. Fifty to each and it is a shame we can’t give them more.”
“If you truly want me to,” Chester said.
“Do it.”
Reluctantly, Chester counted out another pile. The rest went into a tin on a shelf behind the counter.
Minimi hugged his share to him, saying, “Grazie, signore. Grazie. Lei e molto gentile.”
“Speak English, you silly Italian,” Chester said. “You are in America now.”
“I thank you, sir,” Minimi said, correcting his oversight. “You are very kind. I wish it was more.”
“Don’t we all,” Chester said.
Placido and Arturo came forward to accept their shares. “I, too, would like to thank you, Mayor Luce,” the former remarked. “It will take us a month to air out the stable, but it was worth it.”
“If not for the smell, we could have had those four on display until they rotted away,” Chester said.
“Smell and rot sort of go hand in hand,” Winifred commented.
Jokingly, Chester declared, “It is too bad we don’t know where Jeeter Frost got to or we could invite him back to kill someone else.”
Adolphina was thoughtfully fingering the tin. At her husband’s comment, she swiveled around and said, “That is an idea worth pursuing.”
“I was kidding, dearest.”
“I wasn’t.”
Winifred and the rest all looked at Chester, who shrugged and shook his head.
“The first time was a fluke. We can’t have people shot down on a regular basis,” he said.
“Why not?” Adolphina demanded. “Think of how much money we could make. People would come from all over the territory, not just Dodge. We could make five hundred dollars a month. Maybe a thousand.”
“Have you been drinking?” Win asked.
“This be joke, ja?” Dolph said.
Adolphina ignored them. “I have given it a lot of thought. The possibilities are appealing.”
Placido had removed his sombrero when he entered the store. Now he wagged it at her, saying, “What do you propose, senorita?”
“That we place notices in as many newspapers as we can with the money we have left,” Adolphina said. “We will invite every badman, curly wolf, and gun shark who is so inclined to come to Coffin Varnish and settle their differences.”
“That is insane,” Win said. “We wouldn’t be able to step outside for all the lead flying around.”
Adolphina enlightened him. “Not if we arrange it so they only shoot each other at specific times of the day. We will charge for the privilege, then charge for people to view the losers. That way we make money at both ends. Lots and lots of money.”
“My God. You are serious!”
“Never more so,” Adolphina said. “It is high time Coffin Varnish lived up to its name. If, in the process, we make a lot of money, where is the harm?
“You can’t spend money if you are dead,” Winifred said. “No one has ever done anything as harebrained as this. Forget it, for all our sakes, or calamity will come calling.”
Adolphina smiled. “Let us place the notice in the newspaper and find out.”
Chapter 10
Undersheriff Seamus Glickman was good and mad. He had not minded—at least not that much—being forced to leave Dodge the first time. Shooting affrays happened all the time in Ford County. They were to be taken as a matter of course. But this! He got so mad thinking about it that he swore at his horse for no reason. Then his head snapped up.
Coffin Varnish had appeared up ahead.
Seamus glumly wished the earth would open up and swallow the whole damn town. He parted his jacket and patted the ivory handles of his Merwin and Hulbert revolver. For two bits he would shoot the whole bunch of them. Idiots, he fumed, the whole kit and caboodle.
Mad as he was, Seamus made for the saloon rather than the general store. As usual, Win Curry sat in the shade of the overhang, and greeted him with a smile.
“Good morning, Sheriff Glickman. How do you do this fine day?”
“Don’t how do you do me,” Seamus snapped, dismounting. “What in hell has gotten into you people? Did the whole population get drunk on your red-eye?”
“Uh-oh,” Win said.
Seamus opened his saddlebags and took out the latest edition of the Dodge City Times. He walked under the overhang and shook the folded newspaper practically in the saloon owner’s face. “Was this your idea or some other lunatic’s?”
“I warned them it would not go over well,” Win said. “But they never listen to me.”
“They being the good mayor and his wife?” Seamus guessed.
“You are a genius or as close to one as I will ever meet.”
“Save your humor for someone who will appreciate it.” Seamus spun and stalked toward the general store. “They might not have listened to you, but they will by God listen to me. I am here to put a stop to this nonsense.”
Win was out of his chair and caught up within a few strides. “Mind if I tag along? Coffin Varnish is mighty short on entertainment and this promises to be a humdinger.”
Seamus spied the two Mexicans over by the livery. The polite one, Placido, smiled and touched the brim of his sombrero, but Seamus did not return the gesture. For all he knew, those two were in on it. Hadn’t they displayed the original bodies in their livery?
“You have met Adolphina, haven’t you?” Win asked, knowing full well that Glickman had.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Seamus growled.
“I want you to be prepared. I am on your side.”
Seamus stopped and faced him. “Why? You live here. I should think you would be all for it.”
“I am all for breathing,” Win said. “Let me put it another way. If the wolves in the area go rabid, you don’t invite them to your house for supper or you will be the main course.”
“I could not have said it better myself,” Seamus admitted. He shook the newspaper again. “Didn’t you try to reason with them? Didn’t you impress on them the sheer folly of their enterprise?”
“At the town council meeting I talked until I was blue in the face,” Win informed him.
“And? What effect did you have?”
“The same effect as talking to trees.”
Seamus moved on. “I, by God, will have an effect. The sheriff is fit to burst a vein. Other newspapers will pick up on it. Before long Coffin Varnish will be the laughingstock of the state.” He was almost to the general store when the door opened and a smiling Chester Luce filled the doorway.
“Sheriff Glickman! How wonderful to see you again.”
Thrusting the newspaper at him, Seamus snapped, “How would you like this shoved up your backside?”
“I take it this is not a social call?” Chester said. He had seen Glickman enter town and could tell how furious he was. The newspaper hinted why. But Chester refused to be intimidated. He thought of Adolphina, and the money they would make. All that wonderful money.
“Don’t play the innocent with me,” Seamus said. “You will explain yourself, and it had better be good.”
“Wouldn’t you care to come in and discuss this over refreshments rather than stand out here in the hot sun?” Chester asked.
“The sun be damned. Explain. Explain right now.”
Chester continued to think of the money, only the money. It gave him the fortitude to say, “Perhaps you would be so kind as to make clear exactly why you are upset?”
By now Seamus was so mad he came close to punching Coffin Varnish’s mayor in the nose. Containing his anger, he unfolded the newspaper and opened it to the advertisements. He cleared his throat. “Public Notice,” he read, louder than he needed to. “The town of Coffin Varnish hereby serves notice that as of this date, anyone with a grudge is invited to come to Coffin Varnish and settle their differences howsoever they may choose. Shootings will be allowed under town sanction at specified times of the day, provided a permit is obtai
ned. A burial fee is also required, should it prove necessary.” Seamus stopped and glared at the mayor.
“Is there a problem?” Chester asked.
“I’m not done.” Seamus read the last line, his voice a snarl. “All badmen, curly wolves, leather slappers, pistoleros, feudists, and shootists are cordially invited to Coffin Varnish to hash out their differences.” He crumpled the newspaper and shook it. “Have you gone out of your mind?”
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in something to drink?”
That did it. Seamus grabbed hold of the front of the mayor’s shirt and nearly yanked him off his feet. “I should pistol-whip you.”
“Really, now,” Chester said, prying at the other’s fingers. “Is this manhandling necessary?”
A choice selection of cusswords was on the tip of Seamus’s tongue when a large bulk loomed behind the mayor and a hand bigger than his shot out and seized his wrist.
“Release my husband this instant,” Adolphina Luce demanded.
Taken aback by the strength in her grip, as well as her gender, Seamus let go and she let go of him. “Mrs. Luce. Are you aware of what your husband has done?”
“More than aware since it was my idea,” Adolphina said. She resorted to her most disarming smile. “Is there a problem?”
“You can’t invite killers into your town.”
“Who says we can’t?” Adolphina retorted. “There is no law against it that we know of.”
“There is a law against murder,” Seamus said, “and soliciting for murder.”
“But we are not soliciting anything,” Adolphina remarked. “We merely extended an invitation.”
“A quibble, at best, and a distinction a judge is not likely to agree with,” Seamus said. He and the sheriff had talked it out before he left Dodge, and he had a mental list of criticisms, legal and otherwise.
“Are you here to arrest us?” Adolphina asked.
“If I could, I would,” Seamus said. Once again he shook the newspaper. “I am here to put a stop to this madness. You will place a notice in tomorrow’s Times stating that your previous notice was in error.”
“We will do no such thing.”
Seamus never hit women but he dearly yearned to make an exception. “Damn it, woman. Listen to reason. The county is prepared to take whatever steps are necessary to stop you.”
“By the county you mean the sheriff,” Adolphina divined. “But since you had already admitted you do not have grounds to arrest us, what is left? Take us to court?”
“If the county has to, it will.”
“Legal proceedings cost a lot of money,” Adolphina said. “They also take a lot of time. There are appeals and more appeals. It could be years before the legal aspects are resolved.”
“Don’t do this,” Seamus said.
“The case might go all the way to the Supreme Court.”
“Don’t do this, Mrs. Luce.”
Adolphina placed her hand on Chester’s shoulder and smiled. “I am afraid you have ridden here for nothing, Undersheriff Glickman. Go back and tell Sheriff Hinkle and whoever else is opposed to our idea that we stand firm in our commitment.”
Seamus ground his teeth in exasperation. He looked at her husband and then at Win Curry. “Don’t either of you have anything to say? Why is she doing all the talking when she is not an elected official?”
“My wife speaks on my behalf,” Chester said, “and on behalf of the good people of Coffin Varnish.”
“Good people!” Seamus snorted. “Idiots is more like it. Jackasses who will find themselves six feet under if they are not careful.”
“Watch your language in the presence of a lady,” Adolphina said.
In disgust, Seamus threw the newspaper in the dust. “Fine. It is on your heads. I will talk to the sheriff and he will send word to the governor. After that, it is out of our hands.” Wheeling, he strode toward his mount.
Winifred hurried after him. “Don’t go away mad. Would you care for a drink before you leave?”
“I would like a club to beat some sense into those simpletons.” Seamus did not stop. He unwrapped the reins, hooked his foot in the stirrup, and swung up.
“It was not my doing,” Win stressed.
Seamus lifted the reins and scowled. “You live here. Whether you agreed or not, you will suffer the consequences. What do they hope to get out of it, anyhow?”
“More bodies to display at a dollar a view.”
“Money? They are doing this for the money?” Seamus shook his head. “They invite killers to come to town, invite killers to kill one another, and then your friends will put the dead killers on display for a measly dollar?”
“Not so measly,” Win said. “But maybe nothing will come of it. Maybe no curly wolves will show.”
“You better hope they don’t. When you have a wolf by the tail, it can turn on you.” With that bit of wisdom, Seamus clucked to his buttermilk and reined to the south. The Luces were staring at him. He smiled at them, a cold, bitter smile, and focusing on the woman, raised a hand in farewell. “I won’t shed a tear at your funerals.”
“I get the impression he does not like us,” Chester commented as the lawman reached the end of the street and spurred the buttermilk into a trot.
“Him and his expensive clothes and his ivory-handled pistol,” Adolphina said. “He is a fine one to criticize us for trying to make a little money.” She squinted at the bright sun. “I can use a nap. I will be upstairs if you need me.”
“Yes, dear.” Chester closed the door and crossed the street. “That was interesting, wouldn’t you say?”
Win was in his rocking chair under the overhang, slowly rocking. “I wish I could sell out and leave.”
“What? Where would you go?”
“Somewhere. Anywhere. Hell, I don’t know. But I don’t want to be here when the pistoleros and badmen start drifting in. It won’t be healthy.”
Chester settled into the chair he customarily claimed. “That is panic talking. You are letting Glickman spook you.”
“Listen to yourself,” Winifred said. “How can I have known you so long yet know you so little?”
Just then Sally Worth came out of the saloon. She wore a new dress cut low at the bosom to accent her charms. Stretching, she arched her back, then scratched herself. “I swear. I sleep in much too late. Half the day is gone and I am just waking up.”
“That is some dress,” Chester said, praising her.
Sally’s eyes twinkled. She turned in a circle while running a hand down her body. “You really like it? I bought it with my earnings from the three days we had those bodies on display.”
“Glickman was just here,” Win let her know. “He asked our illustrious mayor to change his mind about our invite to the lobos of this world.”
Sally put a hand to her throat. “You didn’t give in, I hope?” she asked Luce.
“I did not,” Chester said proudly.
“Not with his wife supplying the backbone he needed,” Win said.
Grinning, Sally bent toward Chester and winked. “You see, Your Lordship? Your missus is good for something, after all.”
Chester turned red. “I have never made any statements to the contrary, and I will brand as a liar anyone who says I did.”
Sally Worth laughed, and after a bit, so did Chester.
“At long last I understand,” Win said.
Both Chester and Sally looked at him and Chester asked suspiciously, “Understand what, might I ask?”
“When I was a sprout my ma used to read to us. She liked books about those old-time Greeks and Romans.”
“Yes. So,” Chester goaded when Winifred did not continue.
“One time she read about how Rome was set on fire, and while the city burned, their mayor or whatever he was played a fiddle and admired the flames.” Winifred sniffed. “I never savvied how anyone could do that until just this minute.”
“I thought we were friends. I take that as a slur on my office,” Chester s
aid indignantly.
“Take it however you like,” Winifred responded. “Because there you two were, laughing, knowing full well we have unleashed the whirlwind.”
“You worry a thing to death,” Sally said.
“And you don’t worry enough.” Winifred resumed rocking. “But have it your way. All that is left now is for us to sit back and wait for the killing to commence.”
Chapter 11
Ernestine Prescott was a hundred yards from the schoolhouse when the brazenness of what she was doing brought her up short in breathless wonder. Stars sprinkled the heavens. Behind her, artificial stars twinkled the length and breadth of Dodge City.
Not ten minutes ago, Ernestine had snuck out of the boardinghouse where she was staying. She had been scared she would bump into one of the other boarders and they would ask where she was off to. Not that nine o’clock was all that late. But for a single woman to be abroad at that hour was most unseemly. For that single woman to be the schoolmarm was a notch below scandalous.
Thankfully, Ernestine had made it out the back and down the alley. To avoid Front Street she had gone half a dozen blocks out of her way. Now here she was, about to commit the ultimate folly. If she was caught, if any parents or civic or church leaders happened by and saw a light and came to investigate, she might well be summarily dismissed.
But Ernestine was determined to see it through. Personally, she did not think she was doing anything wrong. Not really. It was not as if she was a dove working the other side of the tracks. She was a teacher, meeting a student. That the student was a grown man with whom she had spent a lot of time—alone—the past week was not a reflection on her moral fiber. Truly it wasn’t. She was willing to swear on a stack of Bibles.
Ernestine hurried on. She wanted to have the door unlocked and the lamp lit when he arrived. She was so intent in groping in her bag for the key that she did not notice the gruella until it nickered. Startled, she glanced up, blurting, “Who’s there?” A silly thing to say, she told herself.
A shadow came from the corner of the schoolhouse. “It’s me, Jeeter. Sorry if I spooked you, ma’am.”
“Not you, your horse,” Ernestine said nervously. She found the key and stepped quickly to the door.
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