Ralph Compton Straight Shooter

by Ralph Compton

  “This one’s on me,” Hayes said as he eased a shot glass across the table.

  Aldus took it and waved it beneath his nose. “As a bonus to my regular pay?”

  “Indeed. That man was set to walk and pay our neighbor Mr. Grable a visit.”

  “Nonsense,” Aldus said. “He wasn’t gonna go anywhere. He needed a rifle and he meant to have one. Otherwise, he would’ve walked away long before I had a chance to step in.”

  “Well, that means he’ll be coming back. And that leads us right back to this.” Hayes lifted his glass and took a drink.

  Aldus did the same.

  After allowing the firewater to work its magic, Hayes said, “We should be moving on soon.”

  “What? We hardly just arrived!”

  “It’s been almost three weeks, Aldus. I hear there’s been some Indian scares a few days west of here, and that means folks will be looking to arm themselves. We must seize any opportunities that come our way.”

  “That sounds kinda grim, don’t it?”

  “We sell guns,” Hayes replied. “You’ve been doing this long enough to know that we have to go where the need to buy is greatest. Just like anyone else selling their wares.”

  “I know. It’s just . . .”

  “Ahhh,” Hayes said. “You just now got what you were waiting for at the post office. Is that it?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So your little system is working out?”

  “It’s not just a little system,” Aldus said. “You make it sound like I’m a child.”

  “Not my intention, I assure you.”

  Aldus had known Zachariah Hayes for several years, which was plenty long enough to know when he was trying to slip one past him. Although salesmen weren’t generally very trustworthy, Hayes was an exception. He did enjoy playing the part of showman, but he wasn’t a cheat. More important, he was a good friend. Aldus nodded slowly and set the whiskey aside so he could remove the letters from his back pocket.

  “These were waiting for me,” he said, “so I guess our little system worked just fine. I just tell her where we’ll be and she sends them on to the post offices I listed.”

  “That’s good to hear! Us moving along shouldn’t be much of a bother. All you need to do is send your lady friend word that we’ll be headed to our next stop sooner rather than later and she can start mailing your letters there. You did make arrangements to receive letters there, right?”

  “I did.”

  “Good, then. It’s settled. Start breaking down the gallery and we’ll leave in the morning.”

  Aldus grinned and watched the other man expectantly.

  “What is it?” Hayes asked.

  “You seem to be in an awful hurry to get moving. Wouldn’t have anything to do with them two that were so eager to get their hands on a rifle, would it?”

  Hayes dismissed that with a wave. “If I was skittish about dealing with men who wanted to arm themselves, I’d have no right being in this line of work. If they’re not back by later tonight, they weren’t coming back at all.”

  “There was something more to those men,” Aldus warned. “Something that didn’t set right.”

  “Well, if they come back and decide to start any trouble, we can deal with it or get the law to do so.”

  “You think they’ll get riled up if they see that I work for you?”

  Hayes shrugged. “They already suspected. Besides, it’s not like we cheated anyone. Just a little bit of a show to catch their attention. That modified Sharps I showed him spoke for itself. As for what those men might do with the rifle after they buy it, that’s not our concern.”

  “All the same, I’d like to keep a record of them two just in case some lawman needs our help.”

  “You looking to become a deputy now?” Hayes asked with a bemused grin.

  “No. I’ll just be ready in case someone needs any questions answered.”

  Hayes finished his whiskey, put his top hat back on his head, and patted it into place. “You can keep all the records you like, just so long as you do it after breaking down the gallery and stowing everything away for the night. We’re moving out tomorrow, so make sure everything is tied down good and tight.”

  “I’ve done it plenty of times, Zeke. I know how it goes.”

  Although not one for putting on airs, the salesman was never fond of being called by that nickname. He’d long since given up on correcting Aldus, so he merely sighed as he walked away.

  Aldus chuckled, knowing full well how he’d perturbed the other man. Shifting his weight in the chair, he felt the bundle of letters in his back pocket. More than anything else, he wanted to take them out and read them one at a time. For him, that would have been a slow process, and there was much work to be done. Hayes would be making one last push to make sales, especially with the interest he’d sparked in those two men. After that, the tedious process of dismantling the shooting gallery awaited.

  No, Aldus decided. He couldn’t sit and read those letters. Even reading just one would have been more torturous than pleasurable because he would simply either want to read it again or move on to the next one. Better to just wait until the day was through so he could indulge in peace.

  • • •

  As the day wore on, Hayes was able to drum up plenty of business. There were regular customers who bought from him whenever his wagon pulled into town. There were men stopping by to pick up guns that Hayes had been repairing. Some newcomers were drawn in by the colorful signs, and of course there was the evening’s extravaganza where Hayes lowered the price for anyone to step up to the shooting gallery and test their skill.

  That last part was the bane of Aldus’s existence. Being Hayes’s apprentice, he always had to keep the gallery stocked with targets. Clay pipes and bottles had to be replaced. The bull’s-eyes on the iron circles had to be painted. The weighted ducks sometimes got jammed. And every so often, there were enough bad shots in a row to chip away at the wooden racks and shelves. In that event, Aldus had to run out there and nail them together again or replace them quickly enough so the paying shooters wouldn’t lose interest and walk away.

  When there weren’t any shooters, Aldus collected spent bullet casings and cleaned the rifles. As if that wasn’t enough to keep him occupied, the entire setup had to be prepared for deconstruction so the process wouldn’t take until the wee hours of the night. Bit by bit, targets were removed and supports were dismantled so there would be just a little less for him to do once Hayes closed up business. It would have been a lot of work for a pair of men to do, but Aldus bore the weight of it upon sturdy shoulders. He was no stranger to grueling tasks and physical discomfort. Compared to getting his face pounded in a boxing ring for dozens of rounds a night, his apprenticeship was a piece of cake. Granted, it was cake that left a gritty texture on his teeth and the acrid taste of burned gunpowder on the back of his throat, but cake all the same.

  As he worked, Aldus was aware of two things: the letters in his pocket and the knife in his boot. The latter was a wicked-looking weapon with an eight-inch blade and a thick guard covering his knuckles that was dented from years of impacting against men who came around looking for trouble. The knife had protected his winnings in his boxing days, and it would discourage the two men Aldus watched for on this night.

  He was certain he’d see Wes and Mose strut up to the wagon at the worst possible time. Probably when there were a good number of customers keeping him busy and Hayes was off by himself. Perhaps the men would circle around to the other side of the wagon and sneak in when Aldus wasn’t looking. As with any traveling salesman, there was always a risk that he would be robbed for his profits or wares. It was part of Aldus’s job to protect both.

  But his watchful eyes found nothing unusual throughout the entire day. The wearier he felt, the more vigilant Aldus forced himself to be. Even as Hay
es rolled up his sleeves and pitched in to help with the final dismantling of the shooting gallery, the only ones to show up were a few children who enjoyed watching the structure come down. When they were through and the wooden beams were loaded onto the wagon, Hayes walked around it to make sure everything was secured.

  “This was a profitable day,” the salesman declared. “We made enough for me to treat us to some steaks. What do you say, Aldus?”

  “I say I’ll take two of them and a third for a little later.”

  “You eat more than the horses, but you pull just as much weight. Let’s get a move on before Kay closes up her kitchen for the night.”

  Kay Felts owned the small hotel where Aldus and Hayes rented rooms. She was a sweet woman and also a night owl, which meant it was never a problem to convince her to serve them a late dinner. Considering Aldus’s appetite, she’d quickly realized that the bit of inconvenience of cooking for him at odd hours would be balanced by the sheer amount of food he could consume. They walked farther into town, past Greene’s Opera House, and arrived at the Sundown Hotel. Kay was stitching a sampler in her parlor and gladly put it aside to cook up their steaks.

  “I had some set aside,” she told them. “I knew this would be a busy day.”

  “You’re a saint,” Hayes said.

  They had their pick of the tables in the dining room and sat down at a small one on the periphery of the glow of a lantern hanging on a wall nearby. “So,” Hayes said as he removed his coat and top hat, “how’s the delightful Miss White?”

  “Haven’t had a chance to read her letters yet,” Aldus replied.

  “You always blush when I mention her.”

  “I ain’t blushing,” Aldus snapped. “But if I react at all it’s because of the way you talk about her. It’s like you take me for some doe-eyed kid.”

  “I’m thinking nothing of the sort,” Hayes replied, even though his wry grin told another story. “It’s just good to see you so happy. I suppose you’ll be reading your letters soon?”

  Aldus nodded. He’d first started getting her letters after a chance meeting with Bethany White some years ago. He’d known Bethany since they were children and had always had a soft spot in his heart for her. Bethany had a smile that could light up a room, and her sweet, curly hair was the softest thing he’d ever touched. Aldus had never been outgoing, and that was even more so when he was younger. Some folks referred to themselves as painfully shy, but for Aldus the pain was excruciating. Not scooping up Bethany White when he’d had the chance was one of his few real regrets, and mending those bridges, one letter at a time, had become his most important job.

  All of that rushed through his mind whenever he thought about those letters, so Hayes was correct in his observation regarding Aldus’s flushed appearance. At least the salesman had learned to stop offering to read the letters to him. Although Hayes meant well, Aldus would prefer to trudge through his difficulty alone than be led by the hand like an infant. He did, however, need help in writing his responses.

  “It took a while for them to get here,” Hayes said. “I hope everything is all right with her. Usually there’s a bundle of them waiting for you when you arrive at one of the spots you told her you’d be.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. Her boys are getting older. They must be a handful.”

  “Most definitely. How old are they?”

  “Five and eight,” Aldus replied without pause.

  “Good Lord Almighty,” Hayes said. “They must be a handful, indeed. I’m surprised she has time to write you at all. Still . . . it does seem odd that it took so long for you to get them. Perhaps it has something to do with the post office. Maybe they were stuck behind a sack or something.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, just so long as you let her know where we’re headed next.”

  “I did,” Aldus told him. “Sent that letter off today.”

  “Good. By the time we get to Omaha, she should have another bunch of fine words sent off to you. Perhaps one of them will be scented with perfume?”

  “It ain’t like that,” Aldus said.

  “Why not? You’ve been writing back and forth for over a year. I thought I saw a spark when you told me about her at the very start.”

  There had been a spark. Aldus knew it was there, but Bethany had just lost her husband that spring and he didn’t think it proper to make his feelings known when her loss was still so fresh. For him, the spark had never faded no matter how much time or distance got between them.

  “You know . . . she’s not that far from Omaha. Perhaps we should divert our course to pay her a visit,” Hayes said. “The first time we wound up in that sleepy little town was because we got lost after that storm. You remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe it’s time we get lost again, eh?”

  “There’s no call for that,” Aldus snapped. “I ain’t a lovesick puppy dog and I ain’t some kid that needs to be coddled.”

  “I thought neither of those things,” Hayes replied. “I just thought it might be interesting to—”

  “To what? Watch me make a fool out of myself by tripping over my tongue? Or do you mean to watch her wince when she sees me drag my sorry hide across the state just to pester her some more?”

  “I highly doubt either of those things would happen.”

  “Well, I don’t aim to find out, so just let the matter lie and keep to your own affairs.”

  It was rare that Hayes found himself at a loss for words. On this occasion, his silence lasted until their steaks arrived. The first part of their supper was eaten without a word passing between them. That was mostly due to the fact that neither of them had a spare moment when his mouth wasn’t full. Eventually Aldus made a comment about his cut of beef and Hayes replied. One stilted sentence led into another and soon they were once more conversing about the day’s events. Hayes was careful to avoid the subject of Aldus’s letters. When he was finished, the salesman pushed away the small plate of apple cobbler he’d been given for dessert and stood up.

  “I suppose I should excuse myself,” Hayes said. “There are some repairs I need to finish if I’m to deliver Mr. Waylan’s pistols before we leave.”

  “All right, then.”

  Hayes wanted to say more, but decided against it. Instead, he left Aldus to the rest of his meal and walked off to settle the bill. After a bit of small talk with Kay, he stepped outside to walk directly back to his wagon and finish his work on those pistols.

  Aldus felt badly for leaving things that way. Hayes had always treated him well and given Aldus something to do besides take a beating for a living. He’d also become a good friend. Perhaps it had been a long day. Perhaps Hayes had struck a nerve when he spoke about those letters. More than likely, a bit of both was to blame for the stilted end of the meal.

  Although Aldus wanted to apologize for being short with his friend, there was still a sliver of his second steak left and a plate of cobbler beside it that he was saving for last. Now that he was alone, he took the letters from his pocket and unfolded the oldest one so he could examine it. He’d made his way through most of the rest of what Bethany had written by the time he finished his dessert. While it would have been nice to get through the others, there was still plenty more to do before the night was through.

  He folded the letters and pocketed them once more. After leaving the hotel, he made his way to the edge of town. When he saw the two shadowy figures lurking near Hayes’s wagons, Aldus cursed himself for letting the salesman out of his sight.

  Chapter 5

  The first wagon was completely loaded. Long wooden beams extended from its back and were tied in place by several lengths of rope. It stood like a dark mass next to the second wagon, which was illuminated from the inside by a single lantern. While in a town for an extended amount of time, Hayes normally worked in the shops of blacksmiths whom he p
aid for the privilege. Tonight being his last night in Cedar Rapids for a while, he finished his last commissioned job huddled in the back of his second wagon. Upon hearing the sharp rapping of knuckles against the back of the wagon, he stuck his head out.

  “Oh,” he said as his smile quickly disappeared, to be replaced by a much more cautious one. “I thought you might be someone else.”

  “It’s just me,” Wes said as he stood with one hand resting on the grip of his holstered pistol. “Remember who I am?”

  “Of course I do! Did you come back for that rifle?”

  “Sure did.”

  “My time is rather limited this evening, seeing as how I intend to leave town tomorrow. If you’d like me to make those adjustments to the rifle, I can certainly oblige.”

  “That would be right kind of you.”

  “No trouble whatsoever.” Hayes ducked back into the wagon and scrounged through some boxes. When he emerged again, he climbed down from the wagon with the Sharps rifle in hand. “I trust you’ve brought your payment.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “My normal policy is to receive the money up front before I make any modifications. Naturally it’s more than adjusting the sights, but I should be able to accommodate you.”

  “On such short notice?” Wes asked. “That’s right kind of you.”

  Hayes noticed the bigger man standing several paces behind Wes. Mose loomed like a ghost, his face and body blackened by thick shadows. The salesman’s eyes didn’t have to adjust very much before he could make out the distinct shape of a shotgun in Mose’s hands. Smiling stiffly, Hayes said, “I made you a promise and I will deliver. Of course, if you’d rather wait until I come back to town, I’ll be able to do much more extensive adjustments. I could even put together a new rifle completely, which I’m sure you’d find even more appealing.”

  “No. I’ll take that rifle you showed me earlier. The one you fixed so I could hit them targets.”

  “There have been a lot of customers coming through,” Hayes said. “I’ll have to readjust the sights.”