The Man From Lordsburg

by Peter McCurtin

  Lassiter was half in and half out, blinking his eyes to get used to the light. He could see Texas Jack but not Quirly and not the girl. What he wanted to see was Quirly. Quirly was the fast one—the one paid to be fast. After the riding Quirly had taken from Jack—and, worse, from the girl, whoever she was—the gloomy killer would be madder and faster than ever. Quirly would be the one to kill first. After that Jack.

  Lassiter dragged his cramped legs down off the trunk. He was in the sleeping compartment with the big, bolted-down bed. The damn thing even had a canopy on it. He knew he hadn’t moved a minute too soon, because now Jack was suggesting that they take a roll in the hay. “Nothing like it to while away a long train trip,” he was saying.

  Lassiter couldn’t see the girl simpering, but he knew that’s what she was doing.

  “I told you pay no heed to Quirly,” Jack said. Lassiter was close enough to the archway to see most of what was going on in the next room. Quirly was sitting by the boarded-up window, his thumbs hooked inside his belt, a look of total gloom on his lean face. They had taken out the dining table to make room for the coffin. The coffin stood on two trestles. Jack sat in a red plush armchair, with his mud-spattered white boots resting on top of the coffin. The girl, young and pretty in a washy way, was in another chair on the other side of the coffin.

  “Maybe it ain’t Quirly’s bothering you,” Texas Jack said. The idea made him bellow with laughter. He was having such a good time he drummed his boot heels on the lid of the coffin, making a hollow sound that did sound like a drum. “Could it be this old feller inside here is making you shy?”

  The girl tittered. To help along the fun, Jack reached across the coffin and pinched her. Lassiter edged closer. He could have dropped Quirly from where he was, but that might give Jack time to go for his gun. He knew he could drop Jack too, except that wasn’t the idea behind this train ride. With Jack dead or badly wounded the safe would just sit there.

  “Look, honey,” Jack said. “Mr. Woodruff ain’t a-going to mind. Now you be a good girl and come to bed with Daddy Jack.”

  Lassiter didn’t give her time to answer. Quirly jerked in his chair when Lassiter stepped through the archway. But he didn’t go for his gun. “Stay still,” Lassiter said easily, keeping the gun on Quirly. “Stay comfortable, Jack. Keep the boots right where they are.”

  He had expected the girl to scream. She didn’t. Jack’s hands lay flat on the arms of the chair, the matched Colts hidden by his coat. Jack’s eyes bulged a bit and his red face grew dark. In a moment he forced himself to show his buckteeth in a dangerous grin.

  “You’d be Lassiter,” he said.

  Lassiter spoke to the girl without looking at her. “You, miss, you get up nice and easy. Then you slide around that coffin and take Jack’s guns. Don’t get in front of him unless you want a bullet in the back. After that you take Quirly’s gun. Then you toss the guns back in the galley and sit down where you were. Understand?”

  “Yes sir,” the girl said.

  The train was taking a long curve. Lassiter braced himself, keeping the gun steady on Quirly’s chest. Texas Jack’s famous smile slipped as the girl reached from behind the chair and eased one gun out of its holster, then the other.

  Texas Jack put his smile back in place. “Cassie said you was good. Looks like the old gal knew what she was talking about. Now look here, Lassiter, you ain’t really going to take all that money? Why don’t you be a nice feller and let’s us talk a deal?”

  “Be careful with Mr. Quirly,” Lassiter warned the girl. “He might want to use you as a shield. That’s the way, miss. Reach over now and take his gun.”

  The guns bumped on the metal floor of the galley and the girl looked at Lassiter. “Not yet,” he said. “We got to de-fang this snake.” He motioned Quirly to his feet with the barrel of the gun. Quirly shook the thin-bladed knife from his sleeve. The girl picked it up and tossed it after the guns. A right smart girl, Lassiter decided, in spite of the apple-pan-dowdy.

  “Start on the safe,” he ordered Texas Jack. “You want us to talk a deal. My deal is—open that safe and I’ll let you live.”

  Texas Jack didn’t scare easily. “Kill me and you don’t make a dollar,” he said. “That ain’t no deal you just offered. Without that money I’m dead anyway. You started out to get forty-five thousand. All right. Take it and no more arguments.”

  Lassiter was sick of Texas Jack, sick of the whole business. “I’m tired,” he said. “I come a thousand miles to do a job. Since that time I’ve been set up, lied to, shot at, and ambushed. I’m so tired I’d just as soon shoot you and forget about the money. Don’t expect Mr. Quirly here to do anything. Now open that safe. You got one minute to do it.”

  Lassiter was as tired as he sounded. That made him more dangerous than ever. Texas Jack must have known it. There was nothing to smile about now. Lassiter watched him carefully as he bent down in front of the safe and began to spin the tumblers. When the last one clicked into place, he reached for the handle, to pull the door open.

  “Hold it,” Lassiter said. “You did fine, Jack. Go back and sit in your chair. Well let the lady do the honors. That’s right, miss. You’ll see a big canvas sack full of money. Just drag it out of there, then go back and sit down. If you happen to see a gun in that safe, don’t even think about it.”

  The girl nodded.

  The door swung open and Texas Jack tensed up. Lassiter relaxed him with a look. The money sack was so heavy the girl had trouble getting it out. Lassiter thought it was a shame he couldn’t take all of it. He forced himself to see the practical side of it. It would be different if he had a horse ready and waiting. He grinned inside. Nothing slowed down a man on the run like a big sack of money, especially when it was white canvas lettered with the cattle company name.

  “That’s the girl,” he said when she finally got it out of the safe. “Before you sit down, you better open that sack. It could be a sack of chopped-up newspapers.”

  He was being robbed, but Texas Jack saw the humor in that. “I wish I’d thought to do that,” he said. Lassiter said, “A feller can’t think of everything.” To the girl he said, “Not on the floor. Use the coffin.”

  The girl opened the drawstring and began to stack the bundles of money on the polished wood. Quirly was more interested in Lassiter than the money. Texas Jack licked his lips, like a miser in a touring play, as the stack of money grew higher.

  “My God,” the girl said, standing back at last. Her green eyes glittered with excitement. The money lay on top of the coffin, crisp and clean and new. Lassiter knew what the girl was thinking about.

  He grinned at her. “Help yourself,” he said.

  Texas Jack roared, “You just wait a goddamned minute, cowboy.”

  Lassiter pointed him back in his chair. Quirly didn’t move. The girl laughed nervously, looking quickly at Texas Jack, then back at the money. “My God,” she said again, greedy and scared and confused.

  “Go ahead,” Lassiter told her. “This is the best chance you’ll ever get.”

  Veins were standing out on the side of Texas Jack’s thick neck. It was a pleasure to make Jack suffer, Lassiter thought. Jack looked from Lassiter’s gun to the girl’s face. It wasn’t hot in the car, but beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. She reached out and touched the stack of bills.

  “You mean it?” she asked Lassiter.

  “I’ll kill you, bitch,” Texas Jack roared. “I swear by the Texas Christ I’ll kill you.”

  Lassiter was having a fine time. Edging toward the money, he began to stuff his pockets with bills. The money was in tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds. He helped himself from all the paper-wrapped bundles. It was no good just taking hundreds. He would need some small stuff too.

  “Jesus, mister, you ain’t just fooling me?” the girl said. She looked ready to cry. She knew Texas Jack meant it when he said he’d kill her.

  Lassiter shook his head. “It’ll just be going to waste,” he said. “I figure old Jack
won’t mind. They say he’s got a heart as big as the State of Texas.”

  He leaned against the side of the swaying car, ready but relaxed, pockets stuffed with money. They’d come a piece from Abilene. The run to Topeka wasn’t that far, and he’d have to start making plans soon. The first order of business was to buy or steal a horse. After that he’d turn the animal south and head for El Paso.

  Making her decision, the girl began to stuff her bag with money. Maybe watching him had taught her something, because she didn’t go only for the big bills. Texas Jack watched her like a maddened grizzly. Every banknote taken from the pile was like a branding iron put to his fat rump. Even with Lassiter’s gun staring him in the eye, he couldn’t keep quiet. “This Lassiter’s making a fool of you,” he growled. “Where the hell you think you going to run with all that money?”

  “Go to hell,” she said. “I’ll run and maybe they’ll catch me and maybe they won’t. For once in my goddamned life I’m going to have myself a time. I won’t have to put up with a pig like you so’s I can eat good food and sleep in a clean bed.”

  The girl turned to Lassiter. “Take me with you, mister.”

  “Not a chance, honey,” Lassiter said. “You get to jump off when I do, but that’s as far as it goes. After that you’re on your own.”

  Texas Jack laughed and pounded the arms of the chair with the flat of his hands. Every time he looked at the girl he started laughing again. “I told you, Missy Linda,” he howled. “All that money ain’t going do you a bit of good. ’Cause they don’t allow folks to spend money in the penitentiary.”

  “Dry up,” Lassiter said. The girl was none of his business. He sure as hell wouldn’t kick her out of bed. At the moment he had no use for her. He thought about Quirly and Texas Jack. He’d be doing the country a favor if he killed both of them. If ever two men needed killing—he was looking at them right now. But doing favors for the community wasn’t and never had been his line of work. The country was full of men like Quirly and Texas Jack. It was no skin off his rump if they went on living.

  “Fetch me a drink,” he told the girl.

  There was a wooden clock on the wall over the safe. Topeka would be about twenty miles up ahead, he figured. There was no reason for Jack’s train to stop there. All he had to do was put Quirly and Jack to sleep, then swing down as the engineer slowed down coming into town. He meant to put Quirly and Jack into a real deep sleep. If they had thin skulls, they might never wake up. And that, he thought, would be a sinful shame. The nice part was that Jack couldn’t run to the law and complain about being robbed.

  “Thanks,” Lassiter said. Jack’s bourbon was good, strong and easy to get down. The drink he liked best was tequila, a habit he’d picked up in Mexico, but there was nothing wrong with good bourbon.

  Texas Jack had been thinking about something. After he chewed it over good, he said to Lassiter, “How much you think you got in your pockets?”

  Holding the gun in his right hand, the glass in his left, Lassiter said, “Enough to last me.”

  “Come to work for me,” Jack said, “and you’ll see a lot more than that. I got big plans, Lassiter. Bigger’n you can imagine.”

  “I hear you’re flat broke,” Lassiter said.

  Texas Jack laughed. “Bullshit! A man like me is never broke. Before I’m through I’m going to be the biggest man in this country. But I can’t do it without a good man to side me. Quirly ain’t no good except for killing.”

  “He’s good at killing women.”

  Jack was talking business now. “Killing’s fine when it has to be done. But a man needs to know more than that. You throw in with me, Lassiter, and I’ll fix you up real good. You don’t want to be on the prod all your life. Why, man, I’ll even wangle you a full pardon. No more running from the law, sleeping in cold camps, chewing on rotten jerky. With me you can step out and live like a man.”

  Lassiter said, “What you want is a Quirly with brains. I think you better stick with the original Quirly.”

  Jack wasn’t ready to give up yet. Without looking at the gunman, he said, “Forget Quirly. If Quirly bothers you we’ll get rid of him. Who in hell needs Quirly?”

  “Hear that Quirly?” Lassiter called out. “How’s that for a letter of recommendation for your next boss?”

  Quirly didn’t think it was funny.

  Lassiter looked at the clock. It was time. Already the train was beginning to lose speed. Up front the engineer let loose a blast so Topeka would know they were coming. It was time for Quirly and Texas Jack to take a long nap.

  “Just turn around, gents,” he ordered them. “This ain’t going to hurt a bit.”

  Jack stood up first. It took Quirly a little longer. Lassiter stepped toward them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jack was closer than Quirly. Lassiter raised the gun to hit him first. Jack jerked his head to one side as Quirly spun around with a derringer in his hand. The barrel of Lassiter’s gun crashed against Jack’s shoulder. The big man roared with pain. Quirly got off one shot before Lassiter could swing his gun around. The bullet passed under Lassiter’s arm without hitting him. Lassiter put two bullets through the killer’s chest before he could fire again. The two forty-fives sent the skinny gunman crashing back into the galley. With the train whistle blasting when the guns went off, there was no noise—just deadly puffs of smoke.

  Texas Jack’s huge fist hit Lassiter before he could turn the gun. Lassiter was big, but Jack was more like a bar than a man. The next punch caught Lassiter straight in the mouth, jarring his teeth, snapping his head back. Roaring like a savage with a skin full of whisky, Jack grabbed Lassiter’s gun hand in both of his big paws and started to squeeze. Lassiter’s free hand pounded away, first at Jack’s face, then at his belly. It was like hitting a tree. Jack didn’t even grunt.

  They staggered back and knocked the coffin off the trestles. Jack bent suddenly and sank his strong yellow teeth into Lassiter’s arm. The gun dropped from his hand and bounced across the rocking car. Lassiter hit Jack again in the face. It didn’t do any good. Jack let loose suddenly and hit Lassiter with a right and a left. Lassiter shook the fog out of his head and made a dive for the gun. A kick in the back of the knee sent him flying across the car. Lassiter caught a glimpse of the girl struggling to get out of the way.

  The gun was under Lassiter now. He rolled over as Jack’s boot stomped at his face. Lassiter had the gun in his hand when another kick sent it flying again. Lassiter was on his knees trying to get up. Jack aimed a kick at his gut and missed. Lassiter grabbed Jack’s heel and twisted hard. There was a crash as the big man’s body hit the floor of the car. Lassiter made another try for the gun. Then Jack’s bulk dropped on him like a dead horse and the big man’s huge hands closed about his neck. Lassiter struggled and kicked, but couldn’t break the hold. He tried to brace the muscles of his neck against the fierce strength of Jack’s hands. Still choking, Jack dragged his head back, then slammed it against the floor. The blood pounded in his head as it hit the floor again.

  “How’d you like that, cowboy?” Jack roared. Lassiter groaned and went limp. The hold relaxed for a moment. Putting all his strength into it, Lassiter rolled the big man off his back. Before he could break loose, Jack grabbed him again. Jack gripped his neck with one hand and clawed for his eyes with the other, but his hands were slick with sweat, and he didn’t make it. Lassiter hit Jack under the nose with the heel of his hand. The big man roared with pain for the first time, and the blood started to spatter.

  Clawing and punching, they staggered to their feet, then went down again, knocking the girl against the wall. Jack closed in fast. Lassiter ducked under the outstretched arms. Coming up under them, he butted Jack in the face with the top of his head. Jack’s front teeth splintered and broke. Lassiter thought his skull would explode with pain. Spitting out broken teeth, Jack hit him again. Jack could have picked up the gun when Lassiter fell. Instead, he kicked it out of the way. “I’m going to kick the guts out of you, cowbo
y,” he roared.

  Lassiter dodged a kick in the belly. Jack slipped in his own blood and fell flat on his back, covering the gun with his huge bulk. Lassiter stepped in fast and kicked him in the side of the head. Jack rolled away, roaring, and Lassiter kicked him in the kidneys. Lassiter’s hand was inches from the gun when Jack’s kicking feet caught him in the chest and sent him staggering.

  The stack of money had come loose. It was under their feet as they kicked and punched their way back and forth the moving car. Lassiter could feel the train picking up speed again. That meant they had gone through Topeka and were heading for the Kansas line. Lassiter stood back and hit Jack again. It wasn’t the best punch he’d ever thrown, but it would have flattened a smaller man. It would have broken another man’s jaw. The big man, bleeding from mouth and nose, just shook his head and kept coming.

  Jack wasn’t much short of three hundred pounds. Some of it was fat. Most of it was solid muscle packed on a heavy-boned frame. Lassiter took a punch on the side of the neck. He tried to shake his head. It was hard to shake his head. Jack closed in throwing roundhouse swings. Lassiter dodged away. The blood-smeared money was slick as ice under his feet. Putting himself out of the way of another swing, he felt his boots starting to slide. His arms went wild trying to get his balance. Lassiter was wide open. Jack hit him hard in the belly and the wind went out of him like a blown-up pig bladder slashed with a knife. It went out and didn’t want to come back in. The fog that clouded his brain closed in again and coming thickly through it he heard a wheezing noise. The fog in his head made it hard to think. Then he knew what it was—his lungs trying desperately to suck in air.

  “Don’t die on me yet, cowboy,” Jack roared, rocking Lassiter’s head with what passed for him like a light punch. Lassiter knew Jack was making a big play out of it for the girl’s benefit. Jack wasn’t that great with a gun, but he was the best dirty fighter in Texas. Thoughts like that rolled around in Lassiter’s head. He edged back, trying to stay out of Jack’s way.