Between Hell and Texas

by Ralph Cotton

  “I know it’s not what I said before,” said Nolly. “But now, I look at what it’s doing to you, I think we need to cool off, sober up, and get a better grip on this thing.”

  “Shut the hell up, Nolly!” Lematte snapped. “I need muscle, not mouth! We’ve got a good thing going. I can’t have it end up like it did in Hide City!”

  “Sheriff,” Nolly asked, “what exactly went wrong at Hide City? All I hear is how things went to hell there. But you never mention how!”

  Lematte tossed back a drink, emptying the shot glass. Then he settled, filled the glass, and said, “Everything just got out of hand. One thing led to another and before I could get things under control, it was too late.”

  Nolly just looked at him for a moment. “Ain’t that what’s going on here, with this Dawson? With this whore? With these councilmen, the Double D boys—”

  “Yes, hell yes, that’s what’s going on here, you idiot!” Lematte bellowed, cutting him off. “That’s what I’m talking about! I’ve got to keep it from happening here! We’ve got to stop these people and their deceit, and their greed, and their envy from screwing things up for us!”

  Nolly looked troubled, watching Lematte toss back another drink, then another. “All right then, just relax a little. I sent Cleveland Ellis and Moon Braden after Dawson right before the storm hit…let them take care of him if they can. They’re probably waiting to ambush him somewhere right now.”

  “That’s good,” said Lematte, “but not good enough.” He shot a glance up the stairs toward the door to Suzzette’s room. “I was counting on that gal! I would’ve made her into something if she would have played straight with me.”

  Nolly tried to talk him down, saying, “Sheriff, you can’t count on a whore. You know that. Just be glad you found all this out now instead of later on.”

  Lematte swiped a hand across his forehead and let out a tight breath. “You’re right, Nolly. I’ve let her get under my skin. I have to admit I was going to get a little close with her, more than I would with one of our doves.” He shrugged and poured another shot of whiskey. “But what the hell.” He gave a crooked whiskey grin. “There’s plenty more where she came from, ain’t that right?”

  “Damn right it’s right!” Karl Nolly said.

  “There’s pretty whores all over the world.” Lematte drank his whiskey, then let his eyes follow the stairs upward, along the hall toward the door to Miami Jones’s room. “I know where there’s one just waiting for me any time I want her.” He looked as if he was ready to turn and climb the stairs.

  “You’re right, Sheriff,” said Nolly, “but it’s awfully early. Let that woman rest. She worked hard last night. Here, let me pour you another drink.” He hurriedly raised the bottle and filled the shot glass.

  But Lematte pushed the drink away. “A whore doesn’t need to rest…they spend all their time in bed!” He laughed under his breath.

  “Come on, Sheriff,” said Nolly trying to turn his attention in another direction. “Let’s go across the street and get us some breakfast. What do you say?”

  “I just had breakfast,” said Lematte. “Coffee and whiskey. What I want now is a woman. What’s the use in having a string of whores on hand if you can’t cut one out and ride her now and then?” He turned and staggered slightly, heading for the stairs.

  “Damn it…” Nolly cursed under his breath.

  Lematte snatched the bottle off the bar and carried it with him. He made his way up the stairs as the bartender sidled up, across the bar from Karl Nolly. “What are we supposed to do when he gets in this shape?” Raymond asked.

  “Just let him get it out of his system,” Nolly replied quietly, watching Lematte walk along the hall toward Miami Jones’s door. “I just hope he’s not going to make a habit of this kind of stuff. This is what happens every time.”

  “What do you mean?” the bartender asked.

  Nolly looked at him, realizing he shouldn’t have said anything about Lematte. “Never mind, Raymond,” he said, “Just keep your mouth shut and pour me some coffee.”

  At the door to Miami Jones’s room, Lematte knocked loudly until the woman opened the door a crack and pushed her hair back from her face. “What do you want, Sheriff?” she asked, her voice gruff and blurry. She looked past Lematte, down at Nolly and the bartender, who stood looking up at her from the bar.

  “What do I want?” said Lematte. “I want you, woman! What do you think I’d want, stupid whore!” He tried shoving the door the rest of the way open, but Miami had her foot against the bottom of it, keeping it secured. “Damn it! Let me in!” Lematte shouted. “I’m the one you work for!”

  Giving a quick glance down at Karl Nolly, seeing him give her a nod, Miami said, “All right, Sheriff. But give me minute. I have company—”

  “Company?” Lematte cut her off, again trying to open the door completely, but only gaining a few inches. “What sonsabitch is up here this time of morning?”

  “It’s not a man, Sheriff,” Miami said, holding him back, “it’s my friend, Red Angel.”

  “Your friend?” Lematte sneered. “Well, I just bet she’s your friend!” He pressed harder against the door. “Let me in!” he demanded, “we’ll all three be friends!”

  As they spoke back and forth, Lematte could see that she was naked except for a thin cotton robe hanging open down the front. The sight of her dark, bare skin caused him to struggle harder.

  “She’s too new for that, Sheriff,” said Miami. “Please! Let me send her out…it will just be you and me!” The door opened a few more inches. Angel Andrews tried to hurry through it and past Lematte, letting out a shriek in fear. She held a towel wrapped around her.

  “Come here, Red Angel!” Lematte shouted, dropping the bottle of rye. The bottle broke at his feet. He grabbed the frightened young woman by her curly red hair. I’ve been wanting to see your patch of fur anyway!”

  “Let her go, Sheriff!” Miami demanded, striking at Lematte with her fists, letting the door fly all the way open.

  “Jesus…!” the bartender whispered, seeing Angel Andrews naked, the towel she’d held around herself coming undone. Her pale, freckled skin and flaming red hair stood out starkly in the gray morning.

  “Damn it!” Nolly cursed, hurrying toward the stairs, seeing things turn uglier by the second.

  “Whoa! Lookie here!” Lematte shouted drunkenly. Holding Angel by her hair from behind with one hand, he reached his free hand down and shoved it between her trembling legs. He grabbed her by her crotch, raised her up off the floor as she screamed and flailed wildly.

  “Turn her loose, Sheriff!” Nolly shouted, running up the stairs, seeing Lematte stagger forward, raising the girl higher up off the floor in front of him, taking her dangerously closer to the handrail.

  “Let’s watch a Red Angel fly!” Lematte shouted.

  Nolly’s eyes caught Miami coming up behind Lematte, her cotton robe off of one shoulder. “Stop!” he shouted at her, racing as fast as he could along the hall. He saw her right hand raised above her head, grasping the neck of the broken whiskey bottle. His hand went to his gun, but not in time to keep Miami from plunging the long shard of broken glass deep into Lematte’s shoulder.

  Nolly ran into her, shoving her aside, knocking her to the floor as Lematte turned wide-eyed, dropping Red Angel to the floor and kicking her out of his way. Woodenly he raised his left hand over his right shoulder and felt the warm blood and the thick neck of the bottle there.

  Having heard the commotion from inside her room, Suzzette had awakened and come running at the sound of Angel’s screams. She froze for a second at the sight of Miami Jones coming up from the floor, slinging her arm free of the cotton robe and hurling herself at Lematte. Then Suzzette screamed herself, seeing Lematte’s Colt come up from his holster and fire repeatedly.

  “No!” Suzzette screamed. On the floor near Lematte’s feet, Angel Andrews also screamed, covering her head with her arms.

  The first shot stiffened Miami Jon
es, stopping her mid step. Each of the four following shots jolted her backward, closer to the handrail. The sixth shot sent her through the handrail in a spray of broken wood and splinters.

  Outside on the boardwalk, Mad Albert Ash had already heard the commotion as he hitched his horse and started inside the Silver Seven. Stepping through the bat-wing doors he’d heard the gunfire. Without flinching he instinctively threw his hand on his gun and saw the woman crash down through a gaming table and lie there spread-eagled, covered with blood, six bullet holes in her naked breasts. Her white cotton robe lay wadded up under her arm.

  “What a town!” said Ash, taking in the scene, then grinning at the terrified bartender, “Whores falling out of the sky!”

  Upstairs, Lematte turned toward Suzzette, seeing her run to Angel Andrews. He pointed his double-action Colt Thunderer at her and pulled the trigger three times before realizing he’d emptied the gun into Miami Jones. “You caused this, you conniving bitch you!” he shouted, drawing the gun back, stepping over to the two women who huddled sobbing on the floor.

  Angel screamed and tried to grab his hand as soon as his pistol barrel swiped across Suzzette’s face and sent her sprawling sidelong on the floor. But Lematte kicked Angel away, screaming loudly, “Do you want some too?”

  “Stop it, Sheriff!” Nolly tried to grab Lematte from behind, but Lematte slung him away, raging out of control. “Don’t you pass out on me, damn you!” he screamed at Suzzette. She lay dazed, a streak of blood rising from the large welt along her cheek.

  “Plea—Please,” she managed to murmur through a swelling red haze.

  “Please hell!” said Lematte, shaking her violently. “You lousy lying whore!” He swiped the pistol barrel back across her other cheek. She rolled sideways with the impact. He kicked her twice, hard, in the ribs, even though she was unconscious. “There now! That’s what I’ve got for you!” He kicked her again. “For you and your gunslinger’s bastard kid!” He reached down to grab her by her throat, but a powerful hand clamped around his wrist and jerked him upright. He turned his face and stared into the cold, blank eyes of Mad Albert Ash.

  Mad Albert gave him a flat, mirthless grin, up close, almost nose to nose. “You’re jumping awfully ugly on the hired help, ain’t you, Sheriff?”

  Lematte settled down instantly, letting out a breath, wiping his bloody gun barrel on his trouser leg and holstering it while Mad Albert still held his wrist, keeping a tight grasp, the same flat crazy grin. “Howdy, Ash,” Lematte said in a much calmer voice. “I’ve been wondering what was taking you so long to get here.”

  “Things,” said Ash, finally letting go of Lematte’s wrist slowly by raising one finger at a time until he held him with just his thumb and finger circling his wrist. Then he jiggled Lematte’s wrist back and forth before turning it loose altogether.

  “Things, huh?” Lematte said, rubbing his wrist as if it had just been released from steel cuffs. “Well, I’m glad you finally got here.”

  “Want me to get that for you?” Ash asked quietly. Nolly stood back watching. Angel crawled over to Suzzette and raised her head into her lap.

  “Get what?” Lematte asked.

  “You have a bottle growing out of your shoulder,” said Ash, reaching up and clasping the bottle neck.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Lematte. “Be careful though.”

  “I will,” said Ash. But instead of pulling the bottle neck straight up, he snapped it sideways, breaking off a long shard, leaving it embedded deep in Lematte’s flesh.

  Lematte winced and gasped in pain as blood ran down his chest and back under his clothing. “God almighty, Albert! You broke it off in me!”

  “Did I?” Ash shrugged. “Hell, I’m no doctor,” he said. “Want me to cut it out for you?”

  “No! Please!” Lematte said quickly. “I’ll go have it taken care of!”

  Wearing the same strange, crazy grin, Mad Albert nodded at the naked body of Miami Jones lying below, staring shamelessly up at them. “I knew Miami Jones.” He sighed. “There was a time I’d have rode all night and half the next morning just to hear her whisper in my ear.”

  Lematte looked down at the dead body, then back at Ash. “I never got to hear that.”

  “And now you never will,” said Ash. He looped an arm over Lematte’s shoulder and said close to his ear, “Is this man back here a friend of yours?”

  “Yes,” said Lematte, glancing over his bloody shoulder at Karl Nolly. “He’s been my right-hand man for a while.”

  “Then you might want to tell him to quit thinking about reaching for his gun…else I’m going to jerk around there and blow his head off.”

  “Karl!” Lematte called out over his shoulder. “Stop thinking about grabbing your gun. This is Albert Ash, the gunman I told you about. He’s on our side.”

  Karl Nolly didn’t say a word.

  Ash stared into Lematte’s eyes expectantly until they both heard Nolly walk toward the steps and start down them. “How could you tell he was thinking about grabbing his gun?” Lematte asked in a hushed tone.

  “Knowing things like that is what you’re paying me for,” Ash whispered near his ear, as if it were a secret strictly between them. “Now let’s go get that shoulder looked at, then get us some breakfast.”

  Chapter 15

  Before leaving the Silver Seven Saloon, Lematte sent Nolly to gather the deputies and see to it they removed Miami Jones’s body and straightened up the place before morning customers began coming in. Nolly returned to the saloon in a few minutes followed by Delbert Collins, Rowland Lenz, Joe Poole, Eddie Grafe, and Hogo Metacino. The deputies looked at the body, the broken gaming table, and up at the broken handrail.

  “Men,” said Lematte, seeing the curiosity in their eyes as they looked Ash up and down, “I want you all to meet Mister Albert Ash. You’ve all heard of Mister Ash…I’m proud to say he will be working with us now, upholding the law here in Somos Santos.”

  The deputies nodded and looked Ash up and down again, this time with a sense of guarded respect. Hogo Metacino said in a straightforward manner, “Do we all call him Mister Ash?”

  Before Lematte could answer, Ash cut in, saying, “No. Just call me Deputy Ash…now that I’m the head deputy.”

  “Head Deputy?” said Delbert Collins.

  “Is that right, Sheriff?” asked Hogo Metacino.

  Lematte gave Albert Ash an inquisitive look. This was the first he’d heard of the gunman being the head deputy. But seeing the unyielding look on Ash’s face he went along with what he’d said. “Uh, yes, that’s right. From now on this man speaks for me on the streets of this town.” Lematte looked back and forth, saying, “Now get this place cleaned up and get that dead whore out of here. Let’s get back to business as usual.” He looked up at the doors along the hall for a second, then said to Nolly, “Take over, Karl…get things in order.”

  “Yes, sir, Sheriff,” said Nolly, with a trace of sarcasm in his voice. He stared after Lematte and Ash as the two turned and left the saloon.

  “What is this all about, Nolly?” Hogo Metacino asked, stepping over beside him and looking at the bat-wing doors still swinging back and forth from Lematte’s departure. “We knew he had a gunman coming, but we never thought it was somebody who was going to replace you!”

  Nolly flared, turning to him. “Get busy Hogo! Nobody is replacing me! Lematte is just edgy…worried about Dawson, the town council, the Double D boys. You think it’s easy running a town?”

  “All right, Nolly,” said Hogo, backing off. “I meant nothing by it. It’s just that we’re used to you being the segundo in charge here. We weren’t expecting this.”

  “I’m still the second in charge here!” Nolly said, raising his voice as he looked from one deputy to the next. “Don’t none of you forget it!”

  “All right,” said Hogo Metacino, agreeing with him. “But just to get this straight, you tell us, if the situation comes down to it, who do we listen to, you or Mad Albert Ash?”


  “Don’t worry about it,” said Nolly, “I’m still Lematte’s right-hand man. Now get busy.”

  With no further discussion on the matter, Hogo shrugged at the others and walked toward the naked body of Miami Jones lying spread-eagled on the broken gaming table. “Somebody give me a hand here, get rid of this dead whore before she starts to stiffen up on us.”

  Upstairs, Angel Andrews sat on the side of Suzzette’s bed, comforting her, gently pressing a cold, wet towel to the cut on her swollen cheek. Suzzette lay curled up in a ball, her arms wrapped around her waist. She moaned deeply as Angel tried to take a look at her battered ribs and stomach. “No, please, don’t touch me,” Suzzette sobbed. “It hurts too bad.”

  “Oh God, Suzzette!” Angel sobbed, “I don’t know what to do! I heard what they said, that you’re pregnant. How can that poor baby live through something like this?”

  “Don’t talk,” Suzzette moaned. “Go out the back way, get the doctor.”

  “But Lematte went to the doctor to get the glass out of his shoulder!” said Angel. “Won’t he try to stop me?”

  “Wait until you see him leave the doctor’s office,” said Suzzette. “I’ll lay here and rest awhile.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Angel asked, already standing up ready to go.

  “Just hurry, Angel, bring him back as soon as he can get here,” said Suzzette.

  Angel Andrews had also taken a beating, but she ignored her pain and hurriedly grabbed a coat from a coatrack and threw it around herself. “I’ll hurry, Suzzette!”

  She managed to slip out the door and along the hallway without being seen. It was only a few feet from Suzzette’s room to an upper rear door at the end of the hall. Angel eased the door open and rushed down a long set of steep wooden stairs to an alley that ran from the main street to the backs of its long row of clapboard buildings. Looking back over her shoulder, she ran along the rutted alley until suddenly she stopped abruptly as two powerful hands caught her by her shoulders. Startled, she stared into two bloodshot eyes and smelled the bittersweet scent of burnt opium.