by Abe Dancer
The banker spilled a lot of his before tossing it down. Cole sipped about half, savouring the taste.
‘You seem a bit … put out, Cole. Look, don’t worry about Dann and his friends. They were scum. They’d killed a lot of people over the years. They’re better off dead.’
‘Would seem that way.’
Charlton frowned. ‘This … bother you? Hell, man, your reputation will sky-rocket! You’ll be known all over the county, maybe the whole damn state, as the fastest gun ever to come—’ He stopped abruptly at the look on Cole’s face. ‘Is that what’s bothering you? Word’ll get out about your gunspeed and….’
Cole savagely crushed out his barely smoked cigarette in the old coffee-can lid, grey-blue eyes pinched down and cold.
‘That’s exactly what bothers me, banker! Every goddamn rowdie from here to hell – and back – will show up and want to try my speed!’
‘Well, I doubt any of ’em’ll be faster than you! Why, the way you got that Colt out … My God! This has happened to you before, hasn’t it?’ Cole stared bleakly. ‘But I don’t recall the name….’
‘Different from the one I’m using now. You wouldn’t know it if you heard it.’ The sheriff shook his head sharply. ‘Damn! I should’ve known better, should never’ve taken this job. But I was broke and you offered good pay and – and this is a quiet town! Out of the way of the cattle trails, stage-run once a week, a few drunks on Saturday night, no wild-whooping trail hands wanting to lift the roof!’ He tightened his lips. ‘Then this … situation arises and there was only one way to settle it!’
‘And you sure did that!’
Cole slammed his hand down flatly on the top of the desk, the concussion overturning the empty shot glasses and spilling a few papers to the floor, where they lay ignored.
The banker looked uneasy. ‘Er – Cole, I sure as hell hope this isn’t going to … influence you, whether you stay on or not! I know you were on a three-month trial, but, man, we can’t afford to lose you! It might be once in a blue moon when something like today happens, but, by God, when it does, you’re the kind of man we want to see behind that badge! Please – and I know I speak for the whole town when I say this – please don’t even think of quitting! I believe I have enough authority with the selection committee to promise to lift your wage, or maybe present you with a cash token of the town’s appreciation. Would you consider those things?’
Cole didn’t answer right away. ‘Money’s not my main interest. I’ve earned enough for my present needs. It could take me a long way from here.’
The banker was alarmed. ‘Oh, now, listen, Cole! Don’t make any rash decisions! You go back to your hotel room and relax, think about things.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There’s one real nice young woman down the trail at Banjo Springs. No trouble to send for her. Name of Willow.’ He winked and half-smiled. ‘And that’s appropriate! She clings like a willow but I’ve never heard her weep yet. Sometimes moan, though, and—’
‘Go fix your bank, Linus,’ Cole interrupted. ‘I don’t need any female diversions, or the other kind that comes out of a bottle. I’ll think about things and let you know come morning.’
It was flat and final and the banker stood slowly, nodding jerkily.
‘All right. But I hope you make the right decision, Cole! It could be a lot more serious than you think.’
The sheriff frowned slightly. Did he imagine it or was there a hint of threat in the banker’s words…?
‘You like to explain that?’
Linus Charlton waved a hand, a little thrown off his stride now as those chilly eyes bored into him. ‘I mean, the effect it’s going to have on the town if you decide to move on. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
Cole held the man’s gaze a moment longer and said heavily, ‘Mebbe I’m tired of moving on, Linus. Hell, no “mebbe” about it! I’ve done a lot of it and I really thought I’d found a place here where I could live quietly. You’ve no idea how disappointed I feel right now.’
The banker’s face softened. ‘You sure never hesitated to tackle those robbers!’
‘I took your money,’ was Cole’s only comment.
The banker suddenly held out one of his pinkish, uncalloused hands. Cole was surprised but gripped it briefly.
‘Stay, Cole. Stay with us. There’ll be more money whatever happens, and if there’s something else you want as part of the deal – well, you just speak up. And if we can get it for you, it’s yours.’
Adam Cole watched him cross the street through the dusty window. There was still a crowd outside the bank, studying the ground where the robbers had fallen.
You can’t give me what I want, Banker. No one can.
CHAPTER 2
TROUBLES
There was a kind of delegation and it immediately made Cole edgy. He saw them coming through the law office window, a bunch of the town’s businessmen – all members of the select committee – heading his way.
He swore and put away the whiskey bottle; he didn’t aim to offer his good booze to this lot. By then they were coming in the door, led by the smiling banker.
‘As promised, Cole,’ Charlton said, adding a belly laugh for no good reason the sheriff could see. The banker gestured to a man in a frayed frock-coat and a white shirt spotted with food droppings. This was Miles Burnside, the town’s only lawyer, still a bachelor and heading fast for sixty years old come December.
He had a small leather valise and opened it, taking out a long manila envelope. Cole saw that his name had been written on it in Burnside’s famous Olde English style lettering. The lawyer cleared his throat and held out the envelope.
‘On behalf of the good citizens of Barberry, all seven hundred and forty-three—’
‘Forty-four, Counsellor,’ interrupted Griff Cavanaugh who ran the general store. ‘Mrs Grandison whelped another daughter just before breakfast. Doc Partridge sent for a bunch of clean towels, and luckily I’d just gotten in a shipment from—’
Burnside frowned. ‘I stand corrected then. Well, adding Mrs Grandison’s as yet unnamed daughter to the population, we are happy to present you with this token of our appreciation for saving our money, which was being stolen by the now deceased, Louisiana Dann gang.’
There was a county cheque inside the envelope made out to Adam Cole for the sum of $2,000. His eyes widened a little as he read and Banker Charlton said quickly.
‘We trust it will be sufficient for your wants, Cole – but not enough to take you away from our town.’
Cole looked up amd smiled thinly. ‘Gents, I do believe I’m being bribed – and that’s agin the law.’
The delegation’s faces straightened and they all looked at Counsellor Burnside.
He cleared his throat. ‘It would only be against the law if you were our duly elected sheriff, Cole. As you are still on probation, as it were, you may accept our offering with a clear conscience – and right after, we can declare you Barberry’s official new sheriff, with increased salary. Amount to be determined by negotiation, plus privileges.’
Cole’s expression didn’t change as he studied the cheque. Then he looked up, smiling all the way this time.
‘I thank you gents. I just happen to have a newly polished sheriff’s star in my top drawer.’
They laughed as he brought out the badge. The tip of one arm of the star was slightly bent from the accident that had killed the previous sheriff. Emerson, the undertaker and church deacon, said in his usual sin-killing voice, the loudest and most resonant in town,
‘I b’lieve we might’ve saved some money, gentlemen! Seems to me this probationary lawman was plannin’ to stay on as sheriff all along.’
That started more laughter and Cole relented. He brought out his whiskey bottle but was short of glasses.
‘Fill the ones you’ve got,’ suggested Griff Cavanaugh, ‘and pass the bottle round. We ain’t too proud to drink our whiskey direct.’
There was unanimous agreement and Mannering, who ran the town’s only sal
oon, went away and came back with six extra glasses and two more bottles of whiskey.
It was just as well no one broke the law in town that afternoon or evening – and part of the night….
When they at last decided to leave – two wives had arrived and had stood on the law office porch, berating their now very merry husbands, breaking up the revelry – only Banker Charlton remained. Cole sat down again in his chair, wiped his sweating face and loosened his trouser belt.
‘That was … pleasant, Linus. Kind of thing I’ve been looking for. Guess I have you to thank you for it, the money and so on—’
‘Not at all. Thank yourself for stopping the robbery. They’d almost cleared out the safe. A lot of money would have been missing and a lot of folk would have suffered because of it.’
Cole shrugged. ‘Well, the only thing I can add is that I’ll give the job a try for a couple of months and—’
Charlton sobered. ‘We intend for you to stay in the job a lot longer than that, Cole!’
The sheriff, now wearing the damaged star on his shirt, held up a hand. ‘Told you I was looking for somewhere I could settle in peace and quiet, Linus. Reckon there’s a good chance of me finding it here. Like you say, that robbery attempt by Dann was unusual, but if it brings in a lot of fellers wanting to try my gun speed …’ He shook his head briefly, ‘I’ll just have to move on.’
‘Well, I’ll pass this along to the committee, Cole, but it’s not what we expected.’
‘If you want the cheque back, that’s OK. Like Burnside said, I had decided to stay on, but only for a spell, a trial period.’
‘Keep the money. Our appreciation of what you did isn’t in any way lessened, but we would like to see you as our permanent sheriff.’
‘Let’s see how things work out, Linus.’ He wiped a hand across his face. ‘Whew! I like the odd snort but I’m glad we don’t have a session like this every night.’
Banker Charlton smiled. He, too, was feeling the effects of the whiskey. He glanced at his gold pocket watch and heaved to his feet.
‘I sure as hell better be going. Bess will be blowing steam out of her ears by now. My dinner will be either burned or cold – or maybe the dog got lucky!’
They laughed and Cole closed the door behind him, turned the key in the lock and leaned against the paint-peeling wood. His tired eyes travelled slowly around the lamp-lit office.
Well, you could’ve said “no, thanks”. Now you’re stuck here for at least a couple of months. He glanced at the tattered calendar on the wall. His gaze went immediately to July 7 – a Friday, just under four weeks away. He felt his belly knot. Damn fool! You should’ve made that a one-month trial, not two. Now you’ll be here when it comes around – the first time in five years you haven’t passed that day – and night – alone, in some isolated place with just the stars and the wilderness and no one to see, or hear, but you, your horse and God – if he’s anywhere around!’
He glanced at the whiskey bottle on the desk. There was a good inch remaining in the bottom.
He snatched it up and drained it, then groped his way to his chair, slumped into it and drifted away into a disturbed sleep.
Bess Charlton was Linus’s second wife. As well as a deal of property and cash left by her deceased first husband, she had brought to the marriage, Donny, her eight-year-old son. As far as Linus was concerned the kid was the biggest pain in the butt he had experienced since an acute attack of the piles.
Probably Donny was no better or worse than the average eight-year-old, but there was instant hostility between him and Banker Charlton. Donny didn’t even like the name and tried to keep his original one: Curtis.
Bess wouldn’t hear of it. ‘I’m marrying Linus Charlton, Donny, and that’s the name I will take. You are my flesh and blood, so you will now become Donny Charlton. I’ll have no argument! That’s it!’
Bess was a woman used to having her own way and one time, in a fit of pique, Donny had told her this, adding that she had been ‘spoiled’ by Lawrence Curtis. It was the last time Donny sassed his mother about that.
But he turned his juvenile anger and frustration towards Charlton, who was not much good with children anyway.
‘You’re not my father!’ Donny often used this statement of truth when Charlton hardened his voice and tried to exert authority over the boy for one reason or another. ‘I don’t like you!’
‘Mutual, my dear stepson, I assure you. It’s mutual!’ He looked around swiftly, lowered his voice, his tone not changing. ‘And you keep up this insolence and you’ll be eating like a horse for a week – standing up!’
Donny curled a lip, showing his small white teeth. ‘You’re not funny! Except for the way you look! Like a ball with a turnip on top!’
Linus almost ruptured himself in exerting the force he put behind the kick he aimed at the darting boy. He missed, of course, and so the effort strained his groin even more. Gasping, clutching his side low down, he managed a curse.
‘I’ll fix your wagon … one of these days, kid! You can count on it!’
Donny pressed a thumb to his upturned, freckled nose and waved all four fingers in the current ultimate insulting gesture at the small Barberry school.
Bess was aware that the relations between her new husband and her eight-year-old were dismal and after a while she gave up trying to improve them. Sometimes – most times – she took the boy’s part anyway and this made her own relations with Linus less than sweet and wonderful.
But they survived and they lived very well, probably better than anyone else in Barberry. This was in part due to Linus’s good salary from the Frontier First National Bank. He was paid well to manage this out-of-the-way branch in a small town like Barberry. The lifestyle was occasionally given a lift by Bess’s own contribution from money left to her by her dead husband. Only occasionally.
By the accepted and unwritten law of the day, her bank balance and property holdings were supposed to be accessible to Linus at any time. But when he first made her aware of this, she placed a hand on one of her ample hips, narrowed those icy-blue eyes and shook her blond head.
‘No, Linus. Curtis earned this money and invested wisely. It has nothing to do with you. It was all for the benefit of Donny and myself. I believe you will find me generous on occasion, but it will be at my option.’ Then she smiled that devilish smile that got him all heated and short of breath. ‘And I haven’t heard any complaints from you when I have felt generous with my … favours in the past.’ She laughed lightly at the flushed look a his face, knew why he was squirming.
He swallowed, nodded, drew out a kerchief and mopped his heated face swiftly. ‘As you will, my dear. After all, it’s your money….’
But he would love to get his hands on some of it! Deuce Mannering ran such marvellous card games in the rear of his saloon, late at night…! If he could only match some of the bets made by these visiting ranch owners from the neighbouring county whom he invited to the game!
Cards and dice had always thrilled him; once he lost an appointment in a Missouri bank because of his liking for gambling. ‘Not appropriate for a bank manager, Mr Charlton. Sorry.’
Still, lately he had done all right with a little manipulation, which no one had detected or even known about, let alone Bess.
But there was some pressure on him by Mannering, who actually worked for the big saloon owners in Banjo Springs. They called their gaming rooms (legal in Banjo County) casinos – a foreign word, but with a wonderful sound to it, like cards slithering and dice rattling.
The first fast gun arrived in town on the second stage after the thwarted bank robbery. A little under two weeks.
He didn’t look very different from the cowboys and drifters who passed through the town. He wore range clothes that had seen better days, a leather vest with a tobacco-sack tag dangling from the left upper pocket, a single gunbelt and holstered Colt, scuffed riding boots, tarnished spurs.
He swung a warbag casually over his shoulder and stopped a
depot clerk, easing back his curlbrim hat from his face.
‘Friend, can you point me in the direction of the law office?’
‘Why, sure. Turn left at the gate and end of the lane is Front Street. Left again and it’s about halfway along.’ The clerk, young and impressionable, added, ‘Er … You heard about our Sheriff Cole? An’ how he stopped the Louisiana Dann gang dead when they tried to rob our bank?’ He winked. ‘An’ I mean stopped ’em dead!’
The cowboy nodded slightly, smiled; he had a pleasant enough face, hard-jawed, but maybe the eyes had a mean look to them. ‘B’lieve I did hear somethin’. Fluke, weren’t it?’
‘Fluke? Like hell! If you’d seen Cole move – well, you wouldn’t’ve. No one seen him draw. Just his gun was suddenly there in his hand, blazin’, and them three robbers were down in the dust. Not even kickin’ they died so fast.’
The cowboy’s smile had disappeared now. ‘No one’s that fast! Not even Hickok.’
‘I dunno ’bout that. Mr Hickcok ain’t never been to this town, but I sure wouldn’t care to go up agin Sheriff Cole—’ He stopped suddenly, looked sharply at the man, noting now that the base of the holster, worn quite low on the thigh, was tied down with a rawhide thong. The leather had been cut away around the trigger guard to allow swifter access for the finger and … The clerk swallowed. ‘I – I best get on with my work, mister. Just do what I said and you’ll find the law office. All right?’
‘Yeah, sure. Thanks, friend.’
He flipped a quarter and the clerk deftly caught it. He watched the man stroll up the lane, the warbag slung over his shoulder – his left shoulder he now noticed, keeping his gun arm swinging free.
He hurried back into the depot, calling to one of the drivers who was filling out his usual papers:
‘Zeke! I … I think there’s gonna be another shootin’.’
