Ralph Compton Straight Shooter

by Ralph Compton

  Since getting up would have meant taking his feet away from the bundles on the floor, Hayes waited for the men to approach before reaching up to extend his hand. “Vernon Winter! So glad to see you again.”

  Vernon didn’t so much as glance at the hand being offered and he didn’t make a move toward any of the chairs at the table. “Did you bring them?” he asked in a scratchy voice.

  Hayes reached down for the bundles and lifted them just enough to be seen. “They’re right here.”

  All Vernon had to do was nod toward the bundles, and both of his companions moved in to claim them.

  The salesman wasn’t happy to relinquish the bundles, but he wasn’t foolish enough to protest when they were taken from him. “There is still the matter of payment.”

  “Come along with us,” Vernon said. “We’re not about to settle things in this place.”

  “It’s always been good enough before.”

  “That was when we were buying one or two pistols. Making a few repairs. This is different. This time, our employer needs a better look at what he’s paying so much money for.”

  Since all three men were armed and had no qualms with putting their guns to work, Hayes stood up. “Lead the way, gentlemen.”

  • • •

  Hayes was led to a long warehouse built close enough to the railroad tracks for every rattling wheel and hiss of steam to be heard. Vernon Winter and his two companions rode in a carriage, and Hayes followed along on his horse. Once they arrived at their destination, he was allowed to tie the mare to a post outside one warehouse while Vernon and the men entered another. Vernon came back out to retrieve him and then escorted Hayes to a small room in the corner of the spacious, almost cavernous structure.

  Inside the room, there was only a table with nothing on it and a man who stood with his back to the door looking through a window at the adjoining train yard. He was a stout figure and solidly built. His thick arms and heavily callused hands looked as if they’d laid a good portion of the track extending westward into the Great Plains and beyond. After Hayes and Vernon had filed into the room, the man turned around and asked, “Where are the guns?”

  Vernon moved to one side, allowing one of his partners to step in and place the bundles on the table.

  “They’re all there, Augustus,” Hayes said.

  Ignoring the salesman, Augustus spread out one of the bundles like a bedroll. Inside were rifles held in place by leather loops stitched to the bundle’s interior. There were several makes and models of rifles represented there with at least two of each kind, half a dozen in all. On top of that, Augustus unrolled the second bundle to find an identical inventory.

  Looking up as if Hayes had just then popped into existence, Augustus said, “You never disappoint, Zachariah.”

  “That would be bad for business,” Hayes replied.

  “Are they all modified to my specifications?”

  “I worked on each one myself. I fitted them all with my patented sights, filed down the levering mechanisms for quicker reloading, adjusted the tension on the triggers for easier firing, and reinforced the chambers to withstand my upgraded ammunition.”

  “About that ammunition . . .”

  “I brought plenty of it as well. Extra, in fact, than what was agreed upon. Consider it a bonus.”

  “I’ll need to test it.”

  Sweeping his hands over the rifles, Hayes said, “Be my guest.”

  Augustus placed his hand on top of one of the rifles, moved it along them all, and then peeled back the top bundle to show the one that had been unrolled beneath it. The rifle he selected was a Winchester. He put it to his shoulder and looked down the top of its barrel through the newer sights. Then he worked the lever to feel the action, which flowed smoother than an overgreased piston. Finally he put his finger on the trigger and dropped the hammer with a flat, metallic slap.

  “Touchy,” he said.

  Hayes nodded. “It takes some getting used to, but you assured me your men know what they’re doing.”

  “Oh, they most certainly do.”

  “Then they’ll find the more sensitive trigger reduces the risk of their shot being displaced as it would when more pressure is required to pull it.”

  “I’ll have one of those bullets,” Augustus said as he held out one hand, palm up.

  “Most certainly,” Hayes replied. He reached for the top bundle, unbuttoned a small pocket, and fished out a single round. “There’s not enough room for all of the ammunition, but it’s not far from here.”

  “With your horse?”

  “That’s right.”

  Augustus nodded and then fit the round into the rifle. Carrying the Winchester out of the small room, he stepped into the main space of the warehouse, which was filled with stacks of crates and sacks of sugar and grain piled into pyramids that were almost as tall as a man. He seemed pleased with how the rifle felt in his grasp as well as how it fit against his shoulder. When the rifle sent its round flying through the warehouse amid a thunderous roar and a kick that sent him back a step, he was even more pleased.

  “Very nice, indeed,” Augustus said. “Although it will definitely take some adjustment.” He handed the rifle over to Vernon and strode back into the office. “What about accuracy? This one was just fine, as I assume they all are, but what’s the effective range?”

  “Up to three hundred yards,” Hayes told him. “For maximum effect with the modified ammunition, I’d say no more than half of that. Those rounds will work just fine, but you’ll lose some of the kick at more than . . . say . . . a hundred and seventy-three yards.”

  “When I placed this order with you those months ago, I half expected you to inform me there would be a delay in filling it. I even suspected there would be a chance that you’d back out and keep the advance you were given.”

  Hayes looked genuinely appalled. “Back out? I’ve never reneged on an order!”

  “So it seems. How long before you can make more?”

  “How many do you need?”

  “Another order the same size as this one. Double the ammunition as well.”

  “Give me another few months,” Hayes said.

  Augustus reached inside his dark suit jacket, which looked identical in cut and fabric to the suits worn by Vernon Winter and both of his associates. He removed a thick envelope from his interior pocket and handed it to Hayes. “Please count it to make sure it’s all there.”

  “I trust you,” Hayes assured him while weighing the envelope in his hand.

  “Don’t be foolish, Mr. Hayes. Count it. I’ll wait.”

  Hayes flipped through the cash and added it up in no time. Nodding, he tucked the envelope away into the pocket of his jacket. “How long will you be in Omaha?”

  “Just another day or two. After that, we’re heading out to make our rounds.”

  “As will I. So another order of rifles and double the ammunition. I trust I can contact you at the same address to let you know when I’m ready to deliver?”

  “Our employer isn’t pulling up stakes anytime soon,” Augustus said with a shark’s smile. “Can I fix you a drink?”

  “That would be grand!”

  Chapter 21

  Corbin, Nebraska

  Aldus and Bethany talked while he escorted her home. Although she’d immediately asked how he’d been doing, Bethany did most of the talking as she described how her children were faring in school and all the work that had been piling up at the tailor shop. Once they’d reached the end of Garver Street, she stopped and said, “I’ve just been chattering on the entire time. How rude of me.”

  “Not at all. It’s wonderful to hear your voice,” Aldus said. “I mean, seeing as how we’ve only written to each other. That is . . . if you don’t count when we talked all them years ago before I left. Not that that don’t count, of course. . . .”

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nbsp; She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. I know what you mean.” Bethany smiled and pulled her hand back. “I . . . I’m nervous also. I wish you would have let me know you were coming.” Almost immediately, she added, “Not that I’m unhappy you’re here!”

  Aldus laughed. “All right. We don’t have to tiptoe around each other so much. We’re old friends, so we can breathe easy and just act like old friends. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” she said with a nod. Clasping her hands in front of her, Bethany started walking again. They were at the edge of town where houses were built in small clusters of two or three. Aldus could only see eight or nine of them, but they were spread out as if they’d literally spilled from the main portion of Corbin. Most were two floors high and a few were smaller. Children ran to and fro, playing games and waving to Bethany as she walked by.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I’d be coming,” Aldus said. “To be honest, it was kind of a quick decision.”

  She was a full head shorter than him. It wasn’t until she looked up at him that Aldus remembered how clear and blue her eyes were. He counted it as a blessing that he’d allowed such a thing to slip from his memory. Holding on to a sight like that while being so far away from her would have been too much to bear.

  “So, what was it that brought you here?” she asked.

  “Your letters.”

  Frowning, Bethany said, “I’m so sorry. I haven’t had as much time to write to you lately. I hope you didn’t think something terrible had happened.”

  “Oh no. Nothing like that. It’s just . . . I . . . read them and it struck me how long it had been since we’d seen each other. My business brings me out to Omaha every so often, so I figured it would be good to come down to Corbin for a switch.”

  “Your business,” she said as her face brightened once again. “You mean your apprenticeship with that gunsmith? Mr. Hayes, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You’d written about passing through Omaha,” she said as she cast her eyes downward. “I . . . wondered why you didn’t want to make the ride out here at least once.”

  “It’s not that I didn’t want to.”

  “Oh, I know. I didn’t mean it as something cruel or thoughtless. You’ve got business to tend to and you have to go where you need to go. That was selfish of me. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Aldus stopped. When Bethany did the same, he placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face so he could look straight into those bright blue eyes when he told her, “You can say whatever you want to me.”

  She seemed to look a bit deeper into his eyes as well.

  “I mean,” he continued, “we’ve known each other long enough.”

  “Yes, we have.” As soon as he moved his hand away, she turned toward the houses and started walking again. “I remember when we were both still in school. You were always so quiet most of the time. Then again, I also remember how much you used to make me laugh.”

  Aldus had taken it upon himself to do just that in those days. More often than not, his efforts had gotten him into trouble with the teacher, but he never stopped fishing for just one more smile.

  “I’m really glad you decided to come,” she said. “So, is Mr. Hayes around? After what you wrote about him, I feel like I know him.”

  Although he doubted Hayes had written anything other than what Aldus had told him to write, he wondered if a few complimentary embellishments had been made. Hayes wasn’t beyond such a thing. In fact, blowing his own horn was more like the salesman’s nature.

  “He rode into Omaha to settle up some accounts,” Aldus said. “He should be back in a day or two.”

  “Oh. How long will you be in Corbin?”

  “At least a few weeks, I’d imagine. Perhaps we could find some time to talk some more?”

  Bethany looped an arm around his and led him toward the very house that Aldus had been watching from afar when he’d been working at the wagons. “I’ve got plenty of time right now. How about you?”

  Before he’d taken so much as a second to think about what else he needed to do that night, Aldus said, “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

  “What about an appetite? I’m not the best cook, but you’re welcome to join us for supper if you like.”

  “I’ve always got an appetite.”

  “Good,” she said while grasping his arm a little tighter. “My house is that one straight ahead. Come inside and I can fix you some lemonade.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “Good. And you can meet my boys.”

  Aldus felt his muscles tense as if in reaction to a punch. Whenever he’d dreamt about seeing Bethany again, meeting her children had been the cold splash of water to bring him right back to real life. It wasn’t that Aldus disliked kids. He simply didn’t have occasion to be around them very much. The years when he’d been fighting in New York, he’d only seen the occasional bloodthirsty youngster who was brought to the docks by a drunken father. For the most part, he’d treated kids the way he would a hornet buzzing around his head. If he didn’t make any moves toward them, they tended to go somewhere else.

  Realizing he’d fallen silent, Aldus said, “That . . . that would be good.”

  “If you’d rather not, I understand.”

  “Don’t be silly! With all I’ve read about them, I feel like I already shook their hands.”

  “Wonderful,” she said happily. “Because here comes one of them now.”

  Once again, Aldus tensed. There were several women and children about, either on the porches of nearby homes or running on the grass in front of them. One little boy was running straight for Bethany. He was a little fellow with wide green eyes and a head full of curly, dark brown hair. His little cheeks were red from the run, and dirt was caked onto the front of his dark blue shirt. As soon as he arrived at her side, he reached up for her with both arms and was promptly scooped up.

  “This is Michael,” Bethany said.

  Aldus looked at the boy, and the boy looked back at him while popping his thumb into his mouth.

  “Umm . . . hello there,” Aldus said.

  Prompting him with a gentle shake, Bethany said, “Don’t be rude, Michael.”

  “Hello,” the boy said. “What’s your name?”

  “Aldus Bricker.”

  Michael was more impressed with the taste of his thumb than the man in front of him. Still, he didn’t cry in fear or struggle to get away from him as Aldus had imagined.

  Finally Michael said, “That’s a funny name.”

  “Michael!” Bethany scolded.

  “No, I suppose it is,” Aldus said. Leaning in to poke at the boy’s stomach, he said, “Maybe I think Michael is a funny name, too.”

  The boy’s face lit up with a smile that he’d been fortunate enough to inherit from his mother. “No, it isn’t!”

  Aldus smiled, too, and it overtook him until he found himself laughing almost as much as the five-year-old when he tickled his belly.

  “Hey! Who are you?”

  Aldus looked over to find the voice had come from another boy standing a few feet away from Bethany. He stood between four and five feet tall and had dark blond hair and a face that was so close to Bethany’s that someone would have had to be blind not to realize he was one of hers.

  “James, this is my friend Aldus,” she said. “Remember when I told you about him?”

  The eight-year-old took a few cautious steps forward upon long, skinny legs. His front teeth had come in and they stuck out among the smaller ones to make him look almost as awkward as Aldus had felt when he’d been that age. “You’re the fighter, right?” he asked.

  Aldus nodded. “Used to be. That’s right.”

  “Did it hurt when you got punched?”

  “Well . . . it didn’t tickle, I ca
n tell you that much.”

  Michael squirmed in his mother’s arms until she set him down. Walking up to stand on Aldus’s left foot, he grabbed hold of his belt and stretched his other arm up to point at Aldus’s face with one little hand. “Your nose is crooked!”

  “Maybe you can fix it,” Aldus said as he stooped down to Michael’s level.

  The boy gleefully grabbed Aldus’s nose and twisted it back and forth while sticking his tongue out in concentration. Before his nose was pulled from his face, Aldus stood up and felt it. “Guess it’s stuck that way,” he said to the child.

  Michael shrugged, turned around, and ran for the house.

  “Maybe you’d like to try?” Aldus said as he turned to James.

  The skinny boy shook his head and stepped away. “That won’t fix your nose.”

  “Guess there ain’t no fixing me. It got busted up pretty bad.”

  James’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “You mean someone did that to you?”

  “Well, it happens in a fight,” Aldus said dismissively.

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Yeah. A lot.”

  The boy was at a loss for words and he quickly turned away to catch up to his little brother.

  Bethany shrugged. “He’s afraid of blood,” she explained.

  “Oh, hell.”

  “And . . . I’d prefer it if you didn’t speak that way in front of them.”

  Aldus hung his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t stay.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Just don’t regale them with stories about teeth getting knocked out and you’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. “I insist.”

  Chapter 22

  Omaha, Nebraska

  Hayes had a drink with Augustus and his men, followed by a few more drinks, which led into a poker game held at the back of the warehouse. It was a friendly enough game where Hayes only lost a small portion of what was in his envelope. Afterward, he said his farewells and told them he would go to his horse to retrieve the rest of the ammunition.