Ralph Compton Straight Shooter

by Ralph Compton

  • • •

  The next morning, Aldus slept late. The sun was already burning brightly and there wasn’t a hint of dawn’s colors left in the sky. There was a small dining room in the hotel consisting of three little round tables that were a stone’s throw from the front desk. Aldus wandered down there and took a seat. He waited for a few minutes before a bored girl in her early teens approached him and asked what he wanted to eat.

  “Can I have some eggs and toast?” he replied.

  “We have ham and potatoes.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll take a plate of that.” As the girl started to wander toward a door marked with a sign, Aldus raised his voice to say, “Excuse me.”

  She turned around as if he’d suddenly become the heaviest burden she could imagine.

  “I’m trying to meet up with an old friend,” he explained. “Do you know Bethany White?”

  “The name sounds familiar.”

  “So do you know her?”

  After thinking for less than a second, she said, “I may have heard her name. Is she the seamstress who works for Mr. Brine?”

  “She is!”

  “Well, his shop is on First Street.”

  “Thank you very much,” Aldus said. It was fortunate that he could use that little bit of information he was given because the girl who’d given it to him found somewhere else to be after handing his breakfast order in to the cook. When Aldus was given his ham and potatoes by an older lady with straight hair kept in a single braid, he wished he’d followed the girl’s example. The ham was tough and salty and the potatoes could very well have been scraped off the bottom of a pan after being burned a week ago. Not one to turn down breakfast of any kind, Aldus added enough pepper to drown out the taste and washed the food down with coffee that was strong enough to revive a dead man. A few sips were enough to spur him on, but he drank down the entire cup and scraped every last morsel from his plate before getting up. When he saw the clerk who’d been manning the desk the previous night, Aldus silently cursed himself. Once again, he’d followed his gut instead of his head and ordered his food without reminding himself that he was almost flat broke. If the meal couldn’t be tacked on to his bill, he figured he could pull together enough coins from his pockets to pay for breakfast, but that wouldn’t leave him with enough for lunch or anything else.

  The clerk was still in rumpled clothes, albeit a different set than the previous night. He approached Aldus and immediately asked, “Did you pay for that meal?”

  “No, sir. Not yet.”

  “Good,” the clerk said through a beaming smile. “Because you can eat for free as long as you’re staying here.” His smile dimmed a bit before asking, “How long are you staying?”

  “Maybe a week or two.”

  Although the clerk’s smile returned, it wasn’t quite as bright as it had been. “That’s all right. After the way you handled that situation last night, I’m indebted to you. Is there any chance you might be available to handle other situations like that one?”

  “You mean if that fella comes back?”

  “Yes,” the clerk replied with a wince. “Or anyone else like him. I know it’s a lot to ask, but . . .”

  Aldus slapped the clerk on the back, which caused the tall, gangly man to stumble for half a sideways step. “Anytime you need that fella thumped, I’ll be happy to do the thumping.”

  “That would be great. You see, I’m striving to make the Kolby Arms a more refined hotel than the ones closer to the saloons. I’d like to cater to an upstanding clientele.” Picking up on the fact that Aldus was getting lost among so many fancy words, he added, “If I’d wanted men like that in my place, I would have opened a cathouse.”

  Nodding, Aldus said, “It sounds to me like you’re concerned about some other men apart from that one last night.”

  “There generally isn’t trouble here, but when there is there’s not a lot I can do apart from fetching Sheriff Dreyer. Naturally, I’d prefer to handle those sorts of things in-house instead of running all the way across town and hoping the law sees fit to respond.”

  “So you’re looking for a skull cracker?”

  “A . . . what?”

  Back in New York, the man who’d gone out to bring crowds in to watch the fights also had to keep that crowd under control once they got there. With all the betting going on, the drinking, and the ensuing revelry, things oftentimes got out of hand. Skull crackers were the men employed to get things under control or take care of the men who didn’t want to be controlled. Usually both tasks were performed with a liberal number of blackjacks applied to the sides of heads. Some of the best skull crackers were former fighters themselves and lived up to their name by wearing large rings that did more damage than a club. One man who stuck out in Aldus’s mind had a ring specially made that was just an iron square stuck onto a brass band.

  Rather than explain all of that to the clerk, Aldus said, “You want someone to protect your interests at this hotel.”

  The clerk nodded. “Yes! That’s it exactly. In exchange for help on a regular basis, I can offer room and board along with a small payment every week.”

  “I’ve already got employment right now, but I can help you out while I’m here. If you need something and I’m not here, I’ll be in the field west of town.”

  “You’ll be in a field?”

  “I’m here with . . . Never mind. You won’t miss me. I’ll come around every so often if I’m able. Since I may get busy with my duties, you can keep the weekly payment. Room and board would be enough.”

  “That’s an awful lot for me to provide if you can’t even guarantee you’ll help when you’re needed.”

  “I’ll be the one doing the fighting,” Aldus reminded him. “Sparing you one or two of those should be worth the rooms and a couple breakfasts.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” After thinking on it for a few seconds, the clerk said, “For now, you’ve got your room and board.”

  “For both rooms?”

  “Sure. At least for the next couple of days. We can work something out later if you decide to take me up on the original offer. Until then, if you need me, just ask for Edmund.”

  “And if you need me, I’m Aldus Bricker.”

  Edmund nodded and shook Aldus’s hand, doing a very good job of not drawing attention to the fact that he’d almost walked off without asking for his name. Aldus hadn’t signed the register the previous night and hadn’t had much of a chance to introduce himself, so he knew Edmund didn’t already know it. In his time spent as a fighter, he’d grown accustomed to being known more as a side of beef. Although the men on those docks could rattle off the number of Aldus’s wins, losses, and injuries better than he could, they didn’t care about such things as proper names. To them, he was the Brick. To Edmund, he was the fellow who could toss drunks out on their ears.

  Now that the arrangements had been made, Edmund quickly found other matters in the hotel that required his attention. Apparently he was something more than just a clerk, but Aldus didn’t concern himself with that. He had plenty of things on his plate as well.

  The first thing he did after leaving the Kolby Arms was to walk straight out to the field where the wagons had been parked. There were plenty of folks around and they all went about their daily business. Shops were opened, horses pulled carriages up and down Garver Street. In the distance, a blacksmith’s hammer clanged against iron. When he drew a breath, Aldus could smell the distinctive scents of burning wood and leaves. Autumn was swiftly approaching, which meant the days would become shorter. Unfortunately that also meant he had less time to accomplish his most important job.

  Assembling the shooting gallery was twice as tedious as breaking it down. Aldus had a system that seemed almost impossible every time he was about to start it. As soon as he got going, how
ever, one task led to another and the hours melted away. First, he had to remove one set of beams from the wagon. Beneath those, the smaller pieces were kept in boxes or sacks or merely stacked in whatever spaces were available. Such pieces included the pegs and nails used to attach the beams to one another, smaller supports for the structure, and the many targets that had to be put in their proper place. If he had more time, Aldus would have touched up the targets with fresh dabs of paint, but since he just needed to get the gallery up and running, he settled for using the targets as they were.

  One by one, he removed the next set of larger beams. When he’d first started traveling with Hayes, this part had required two men to complete. After so much practice, Aldus figured out how to slide the beams partly from the wagon, walk around to the other side, and ease them down. He would then place the beams on a set of thick wooden cylinders that he’d taken from a carpenter’s scrap pile in Springfield, Illinois. The beams rolled nicely along those cylinders and could go anywhere Aldus needed them to be as long as he took the cylinder left behind and placed it beneath the front of the beam again. The process involved a whole lot of walking, but it took about the same amount of time as allowing Hayes to carry one end of a beam and shuffle a few steps before having to take a rest.

  The skeleton of the gallery was up in a matter of hours and all the pieces were laid out when it was time for Aldus to scrounge for something to eat. Rather than leave everything loose and unguarded, he went to the covered wagon where the scraps of their trail provisions were stored. All he could find was a bag of oatmeal, some sticks of jerked buffalo meat, and just enough coffee to brew one cup. He ate the oatmeal dry, finished off the jerked buffalo, and washed it down with the water from his canteen. The coffee he left for Hayes.

  The remainder of the afternoon was spent putting together both ends of the gallery. They were basically two sets of shelves. One in the front was lower and fitted with a rifle rack as well as an open bin to store ammunition. The shelves in the back were for the targets and Aldus put them together with enough time to spare to put both rows of targets in place. The bottles and signs would come later. For now, however, he was finished.

  Every step of the way, Aldus had alternated between looking at his work and looking toward the houses where he knew Bethany lived. Even though he’d seen a few children of the right age playing in front of one house, he couldn’t say for certain if they were hers. Finally, when he could put it off no longer, Aldus took a deep breath and walked back into town.

  A few people asked him about the gallery as he walked down Second Street, and Aldus answered them in as few words as possible. He wasn’t even going to attempt to mimic Hayes’s boisterous flair, so Aldus settled for being polite and kept moving. He walked up Garver Street and then turned right onto First. Since his mind was filled with all the possibilities of things he could say to Bethany or ways he could make a terrible impression on her, he passed Douglas Street without even noticing how close he was to the tailor’s shop.

  Thinking back to the few times that shop had been mentioned in Bethany’s letters, Aldus tried to figure out exactly where it would be. He found a small storefront on the left side of the street with a sign bearing the name that he’d been looking for. He couldn’t read the entire sign but skimmed over it much the same as he would one of the letters so he could pick out enough to give him the general idea. It was a tailor shop and it was named after a word that looked close enough to Brine to suit his purposes. Before he could get close enough to see what was in the window, he spotted something that was even more familiar.

  Bethany White’s was a face that lived in Aldus’s thoughts as one of the fondest memories from his youth. Whenever he thought about her smile, his heart ached with the knowledge that he only had himself to blame for not pursuing her. She was a sweet girl who could very well have taken pity on a shy young man, but making his feelings known to her had been too large an obstacle for young Aldus to overcome way back then. She was older now, a woman with all the curves and refinements acquired over the years. Her dress was cut from blue-and-white-checked fabric with a simple lace collar and matching cuffs on the sleeves. Aldus drank in the sight of her all at once, feeling as excited as he’d been before his first fight while also feeling as breathless as he’d been after that same bout.

  She was carrying a bag that she held open so she could rummage inside it as she walked. A stout man stood in front of the tailor shop, watching her leave, until Bethany removed something from her bag and turned around to hold it over her head.

  “Found it!” she said while waving the small, shiny object.

  “All right, then,” the man at the tailor shop replied. He was dressed like a businessman without the jacket that went along with the rest of his suit. He waved at Bethany and then turned to shuffle back inside.

  Aldus remained rooted to his spot. He didn’t even realize he was standing in the street until a man on horseback rode around him. The horse’s heavy steps thumped against the ground close to his boots, and the animal’s side bumped Aldus like a careless finger knocking over a house of cards. He hopped to one side, turned to see a cart was coming up the street, and then hurried over to the boardwalk before he was trampled.

  There was a steady flow of people on the boardwalk. Not enough to swallow him up, but enough to make Aldus feel as if he was effectively hidden within their ranks. From there, he watched as Bethany closed up the bag she was carrying and crossed over to his side of the street. She moved with a spring in her step that made her dark blond curls bounce against the sides of her face and upon a smooth, wide forehead. Whenever she was greeted by someone she knew, she showed the person a wide, if somewhat crooked smile. Aldus couldn’t help grinning when he saw that. Bethany’s smile had always been one of the warmest, most genuine things he’d ever known.

  Although he couldn’t do a thing to remove those thoughts from his head, Aldus did his best to put a less conspicuous expression on his face. The one he chose was similar to the blank slate he wore the day before a bout when gambling men would be fishing for signs of weakness in the fighters.

  Aldus didn’t want to spook Bethany and he most certainly didn’t want her to know just how much he thought about her. Even though they’d written so many letters to each other over the last several months, he didn’t want to present himself as some steely-eyed predator looking to claim her for his own. Showing up unannounced was risky enough. Figuring out a way to properly introduce himself was—“Aldus?”

  The voice that spoke his name was familiar, yet different. Bethany stood in front of him, frozen just as he’d been a few moments ago. So much for a calculated introduction.

  He briefly considered passing himself off as someone else. Then he felt a smile take root as he reminded himself of the fact that she’d picked him out so easily from a crowd.

  “Is that really you?” she asked.

  “Yeah, Bethany. It’s me. How have you been?”

  Chapter 20

  Omaha

  Hayes had gotten up before sunrise, packed up what he’d needed, loaded everything onto his horse, and left Corbin as if a tribe of wild Indians were chasing him down. There was no time to lose, especially when dealing with men like the ones who waited for him at the end of his ride. Normally it would have taken him a solid day to make the trip. At least, that’s what he’d guessed when studying the maps the night before. But Hayes had his strongest horse beneath him and a good wind at his back. When he arrived in Omaha, the sun was about halfway hidden by the western horizon.

  Omaha was a wild place teeming with life drawn by the steam engines of the railroad and merchant traffic along the river. He could find the depot he was after well enough since it was the one surrounded by hotels, vendors’ tents of all kinds, and more than enough saloons to fill the Platte River with whiskey. The place he was after catered to gamblers and thieves alike. His clients weren’t outlaws, but they preferred to conduct th
eir business in the shadows. The shadows were plenty deep inside the Boxcar Saloon.

  Hayes tied his horse to a post outside the place and made sure there was plenty of water in the nearby trough. The brown and white mare had done a superior job and would be treated to the finest greens once the meeting was over. For now, Hayes rubbed her nose and gave her a scratch behind the ear before removing the large bundles that were strapped to either side of the saddle. He cinched the straps up tight, slipped both bundles over his shoulder, and entered the saloon.

  This wasn’t his first time inside the Boxcar. His face was known well enough for him to make it to the back of the room without being accosted. Even so, he wasn’t going to push his luck by being conspicuous. As soon as he sat down, he placed the bundles on the floor and held them beneath his feet. Sitting in that rather awkward position, he ordered a beer from the skinny woman who made her rounds in the place and waited.

  The back of the saloon was dominated by a bar that looked solid enough to keep a stampede at bay. It was chipped and notched in many spots but had held up well enough over the years. A broken mirror was hung on the wall behind it, covered partially by shelves of bottles and glasses. The rest of the room was filled with tables and chairs, none of which combined to form one matching set. Hayes had finished about half of his beer when a lean figure strode through the front entrance. There was no door in the frame, which was just as well since the Boxcar never really closed.

  Hayes recognized the man immediately, not so much by his sunken features and trimmed mustache, but from the clothes that were wrapped around his compact frame. That man, like the other two who followed him into the saloon, wore a clean black suit and polished boots. The man in front and one of his companions each wore a silver watch with a chain crossing his midsection. All of them wore gun belts strapped around their waists, and their hands rarely strayed far from the pistols holstered there.