Slip Gun

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Marijuana!’ Wil gasped, showing that she for one had heard of it.

  ‘Yes’m,’ Smith said coldly. ‘In case you gents don’t know what it is, it’s a drug that makes yellow-bellied yacks feel like real men. How else do you reckon a stinking pair of soft-shells viii like them got up enough guts to come rushing in here ahead of the others?’

  ~*~

  The time was almost two o’clock in the afternoon. To any chance observer, the two men by the livery barn’s big corral had met by accident and were strangers to each other. Leaning against the rails, they displayed attitudes of making idle gossip. Their conversation reached no other ears but their own.

  ‘The meeting went off peaceable enough,’ said the taller of pair. ‘Give Wax Smith his due, he sure handled them two soft-shells fast and neat.’

  ‘That bastard Smith must have a charmed life,’ complained the smaller man. ‘First he gets away from Moxley, Hardy and Hayward. Now he’s downed the Sheppeys.’

  ‘Why the hell did you send them after him?’

  ‘We want him out of the way. And I figured that he’d go into the Happy Bull sometime this morning. Friendly as he is with Lily Shivers, he shouldn’t’ve been expecting trouble.’

  ‘When he saw the Sheppey boys?’ the taller man scoffed.

  ‘Did he know them?’

  ‘Well enough to reckon they’d start throwing lead as soon as they set eyes on him. He downed their brother in Arizona and they’ve been making loud talk about how they’d kill him on sight.’

  ‘Damn them!’ spat the shorter man. ‘They didn’t mention it to me. At least they both died without talking and Dilkes got away. He says he’ll have another go at Smith tonight.’

  ‘I wish him luck on it,’ grunted his companion.

  ‘There’s still no word from the men we sent to get C. B. Frith,’ the small man remarked.

  ‘None,’ replied the taller, then he stiffened and stared over the other’s shoulder. ‘Nor’re we likely to get it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked the smaller man, turning.

  ‘See that feller in the buggy and leading the bayo-lobo hoss?’ asked the other man, indicating between the barn’s buildings and at the stagecoach trail without making the gesture noticeable except to his companion.

  ‘I see him.’

  ‘That’s Cedric Burbury Frith.’

  ‘Then our men missed him!’ croaked the smaller man.

  ‘You can near enough bet he didn’t miss them,’ replied the taller. ‘Now we’d best get the hell away from here so he doesn’t see us together.’

  Chapter Eleven – Settle It Like Men

  Wil Jeffreys ought to have been a contented young woman as she walked from her home on Jeffreys Square towards the bank. Due to her forethought, the possibility of trouble flaring up between the ranchers and homesteaders had been reduced if not entirely removed. Faced with the proof that Hopkirk and Woodstole had a legal claim to the C Lazy P land, Bilak had promised that no member of the Grange would try to make homes north of the Elk Fork. Cushman had confirmed the decision, knowing that to do otherwise would give the ranchers a weapon to be used against the Patrons of Husbandry.

  Despite some criticism when she had announced her intentions, her insistence on bringing in professional gun fighters to handle law enforcement during the fair had already been justified. She liked and respected Marshal Caster, but doubted if he could have handled the potentially explosive situation as effectively as Smith had when the soft-shells had burst in on the meeting. She wondered if Smith would have shot any farmer who had tried to enter, or fired on Charlie Hopkirk if he had turned before the rancher holstered the Army Colt. Clearly the men concerned had been sure that he would, which was all that mattered.

  ‘Shivery-Shakes, she eats snakes!’

  Now why had those words come to her mind? They had been shouted often enough in her childhood and had started many a scuffle with Lily Shivers. Wil sucked in a deep breath and tried to turn her thoughts away from the blonde.

  In addition to having once again proved to be as shrewd and capable as any male member of the city fathers, Wil had at last seen her younger brother showing an active interest in civic affairs. After the brief questioning of Smith’s behavior, Stanley had helped Ottaway remove the two trouble-makers. On his return from the cells in the basement, he had asked if he might serve as a member of the temporary police force. Somewhat to Wil’s surprise, Smith had agreed; with the proviso that he worked only in the company of a more experienced man and obeyed orders. Wil regarded Stanley’s acceptance of the terms as a sign that he was growing up. Yet she wished that he showed less friendship towards Ottaway.

  ‘Shivery-Shakes, she eats snakes.’

  Slowly and remorselessly Wil’s thought returned to Lily Shivers and the Happy Bull’s new sign. No matter how the lady mayor tried to avoid it, she kept remembering the blonde’s conditions for refraining from placing it on the saloon.

  Damn that Dexter Vendy. Even though he had left Widow’s Creek and would never dare to return, his malignant influence was still making itself felt.

  Wil and Lily, daughters of the town’s founders, had grown up through tomboy childhood and adolescence as friends. Even then Wil had been level-headed and solemn enough to gain the nickname ‘Chilly Willie’, while Lily was always the madcap. There had always been rivalry between them but, until Dexter Vendy had made his appearance, it had never been of a hostile kind. The break between the girls did not come until their return from the Eastern college to which their parents, riding high on the fringe-benefits of the cattle-industry’s boom, had sent them.

  Soon after the girls had come home, Vendy had made his appearance. Handsome, dissipated, unscrupulous, he had been in search of an easy life without being burdened by work. Wil, employed in her father’s bank, and Lily, even then shocking convention by helping to run the Happy Bull saloon, had each seemed to offer him what he wanted. So he had courted them, while they had vacillated between him and Poona Woodstole.

  Thinking back to that period, Wil recalled that Lily had always directed her interest to the man Wil favored. A shrewd judge of character, Wil had seen through Vendy’s charm and recognized his motives. There had been an engagement pending. Before it could be confirmed, she had broken it off. Moving in as usual, determined to go one better than Wil, Lily had snapped up his offer of marriage. To the town, it had seemed that the blonde had taken Vendy from under Wil’s nose. Even Lily had regarded it in that light.

  The marriage had lasted only until the couple reached Chicago on their honeymoon. There Vendy had deserted Lily for an older, richer woman.

  All in all, the winter of ’86-’87 had had quite an effect on Wil’s and Lily’s lives. Before the blonde had returned from her desertion, her father, Ben Jeffreys and six more of the town’s most influential citizens had perished in the worst blizzard of that terrible season while trying to rescue a snowed-in nester family.

  Refusing to accept that the town was finished, Wil had taken over management of the bank and assumed her father’s position as mayor. By the sheer force of her driving personality and business acumen, she had brought Widow’s Creek through the crisis and towards renewed financial stability. Doing so had not been easy. Although women had been allowed to vote in Wyoming since 1869, most men still regarded running a bank, or being the mayor, as falling solely within the province of males. There had been doubts expressed over whether a beautiful young woman could succeed at either. So Wil had been compelled to take attention away from her looks. Wearing spectacles, keeping her hair in a tight bun and cultivating an expression of chilling, business-like severity had helped to do it. With Poona Woodstole fully occupied in rebuilding the decimated C Lazy P herds, she had not needed to worry about her looks. Especially as she had no serious rivals with Lily a married woman.

  During the period of retrenchment, Lily Shivers—she had stopped using her married name—had become a thorn in Wil’s side. The blonde was no longer the gay, care-f
ree girl who had gone away. Probably her treatment since returning had helped bring about the change. Tongues had wagged amongst the ‘good’ ladies of the town and the pity directed Wil’s way earlier had changed to praise for her good sense in seeing Vendy’s true character. Maybe Wil herself had not been tactful on their first meeting, hinting that Lily should have profited by her example in turning Vendy away.

  Whatever the cause, Lily had set about running a campaign of harassment and annoyance against Wil. Let her, in her capacity as mayor, organize a function and the blonde would arrange some counter attraction. That new sign was the most blatant and open attempt to humiliate Wil. It could not be allowed. Waxahachie Smith would see that it was not.

  ‘Shivery-Shakes, she eats snakes.’

  Suddenly Wil realized that she had left her spectacles at home. Not that she needed them. Made of plain glass, they played their part in taking attention from her beauty. However, the change in her appearance did not end there. After lunch, she had let her hair down from its bun. Now it hung free, held back by a dark blue band, as she wore it when riding alone away from the town. She had not changed her clothes, other than adding a pair of thin black leather gloves.

  ‘Why shouldn’t a woman be good-looking and efficient?’ Wil asked herself.

  Surprise showed on the face of a man who was approaching Wil, mirroring the expressions she had seen shown by other people she had passed. He was Lily’s head bartender, but greeted Wil warmly, having known her almost as long as his employer.

  ‘Where is Miss Shivers, Alf ?’ Wil found herself asking.

  ‘Back at the house,’ the man replied. ‘She reckoned she’d take a bath and rest up ready for tonight.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Wil said and went by.

  Almost without conscious effort on her part, Wil turned away from the bank. She crossed the street and walked along the alley on the right side of the Happy Bull. At the back of her mind beat one thought. If she wished to retain her self-respect, she could not ask Waxahachie Smith to stop Lily Shivers putting up the sign. It was aimed directly at Wil and she must attend to the matter personally. A smaller voice tried to tell her not to be foolish, but she could neither halt nor turn away from the house where Lily and the saloon girls lived.

  ‘Lily’s up in her room,’ said the pretty blonde who answered Wil’s knock on the front door. Eyeing the lady mayor suspiciously, she went on, ‘You want to see her?’

  ‘I do,’ Wil agreed, fighting down a final inclination to retreat.

  ‘Wait here,’ ordered the blonde. ‘I’ll tell her.’

  Several more girls gathered in the hall, hostility plain in their attitudes as they glared at Wil. After two minutes, which seemed to drag on interminably, the messenger returned and told Wil to come with her. Entering the Shivers’ house for the first time since Lily’s return, the mayor found it as clean and neatly-kept as when .Mrs. Shivers was alive. Going upstairs on the blonde girl’s heels, Wil felt puzzled by the sight of a wardrobe, dressing-table and other furniture standing in the first-floor’s passage. On being escorted into Lily’s quarters, she discovered the reason for it. Only the bed and a thick carpet which covered the whole floor remained in the room.

  Clad in a flimsy robe, open to show that she wore nothing but daringly-brief, short-legged white lace drawers, and black stockings supported by frilly scarlet garters, Lily lounged on the bed. She did not offer to rise, or close her robe.

  ‘I can’t offer you a seat,’ Lily announced. ‘The room’s been cleared to be redecorated after I’ve had a rest:’

  ‘Can we talk in private?’ Wil asked, ignoring the comment.

  ‘Why not?’ Lily replied. ‘Wait outside, Lorna.’

  ‘Sure, Lily,’ the girl replied and left, closing the door.

  ‘Well,’ Lily said, coming to her feet to stand with hands on hips and naked breasts jutting fully exposed. ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘You know what,’ Wil countered, feeling her cheeks redden and guessing that the brazen posture had been adopted to make her blush.

  ‘That new sign of mine?’

  ‘Yes. You know it can’t go up.’

  ‘Why not? It’ll draw me plenty of trade.’

  ‘And ruin the fair,’ Wil pointed out. ‘If you get away with it, the saloon-keepers across the river will have to come up with something like it and the Lord knows where that will end.’

  ‘Hey, look at you,’ Lily grinned. ‘Hair down, no glasses. Why, you look almost like a woman.’

  ‘Damn it, Shivers!’ Wil snapped. ‘You know a lot of folks have invested their savings in the fair. If it comes off, I can talk the Union Pacific into running a spur-line down here. You know what that means.’

  ‘That the great Wil Jeffreys, business-man has done it again.’

  ‘It means prosperity for the town—and for you.’

  ‘Maybe I’m happy with the town the way it is,’ Lily purred. ‘But I’m an obliging gal. All you have to do is come into the Bull and beg me not to put it up—’

  ‘Beg you!’ Wil repeated. ‘I’ve come to tell you that if you try to put it up, I’ll run you out of town.’

  ‘You—or Waxahachie Smith?’ Lily mocked. ‘Which of you’ll be, Mister Mayor?’

  ‘By God, Shiv—Lily Shivers!’ Wil blazed. ‘I’ve taken all the riding I aim to from you. It’s going to stop.’

  ‘Is it, Chilly Willie?’ Lily grinned, sensing what the other had almost called her and remembering how Wil had always objected to that name.

  ‘Yes. It is!’ Wil answered. ‘You’ve been goading and raw-hiding me ever since you got back and I’ve had enough of it.’

  ‘Just what do you have in mind?’

  ‘I’m going to do what dad would have done to any saloonkeeper who’d aimed to put up a sign like that. I’m doing a man’s job and so are you. So we’ll settle it like men.’

  ‘You?’ Lily scoffed, watching Wil unbutton the Basque jacket. ‘Lay one hand on me and I’ll scratch your eyes out.’

  ‘Maybe you could do it, with those talons,’ Wil sniffed, sounding a whole lot calmer than she felt. ‘But you always did like to have the edge.’

  Up to that moment, if Wil had shown any sign of reconciliation Lily would have accepted it. There was none. Telling the mayor to wait, the blonde stamped by her and into the passage.

  ‘Is Doc Riley in the Bull, Lorna?’ Lily demanded.

  ‘I’d be surprised if he’s not,’ the girl replied, watching her employer jerk open a drawer of the dressing table. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Go tell him to stick around,’ Lily ordered and took out a pair of elbow-length black gloves. ‘And tell the girls not to come up here until I say they can, no matter what they hear.’

  ‘Sure,’ agreed Lorna uncertainly, staring as Lily removed her rings and tossed them into the drawer. ‘What’s—?’

  ‘Go and do it!’ Lily commanded. ‘I’ll tell you what it’s about tonight.’

  Watching to make sure that Lorna obeyed, Lily returned to her room and locked the door. Swinging to face Wil, she received a surprise. Not only had the lady mayor taken off her jacket and blouse, but she was removing her skirt.

  ‘I don’t want to get my clothes mussed up, or bloody,’ Wil announced. ‘And I’d hate to have you wailing that I took an unfair advantage after it’s over.’

  For all her outward calm, Wil felt as if she was boiling inside. Part of her revolted at how she was acting, but more of her demanded that she went on. Months of pent-up anger drove her to meet Lily at the blonde’s own level and on even terms. So she continued to undress until all she wore was her knee long white drawers, stockings and gloves. Shoving her discarded shoes and clothing under the bed, Wil forced herself to turn and face Lily.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ the blonde said, tossing aside her robe. While drawing on the gloves, she ran her gaze over a bosom as well-developed and waist as slim as her own. ‘So there is a woman under it after all. It’s a pity Poona’ll never get to see you like this, Chil
ly Willie.’

  Like Lily, Wil would have accepted the slightest hint of a peace offering. The last words warned her that such would not be made.

  ‘I’d say my chances with him are better than yours, Shivery-Shakes,’ Wil answered. ‘He doesn’t want somebody else’s leavings.’

  ‘You bitch!’ Lily screamed and flung herself at Wil with hands driving towards the black hair.

  That was what the mayor wanted to happen. Ducking under the hands before they could take hold, she rammed two sharp punches against Lily’s mid-section. With a grunt of pain, the blonde backed off and threw her left at Wil’s head. Intercepting the blow with the same ease she had shown in evading Lily’s opening attack, Wil again belted her in the stomach. Down went the blonde’s hands to cover the point of impact. Like a flash, Wil lunged in and nailed her with a straight left to the cheek, snapping her head around and buckling her at the knees.

  ‘I learned fisticuffs with the Women’s Suffrage Movement in college, Shivery-Shakes,’ Wil warned, watching the other retreat and apparently on the verge of falling.

  Gasping, Lily made a grab with her left hand as if to strip off the right’s glove. Wil remembered the length of the blonde’s finger-nails and rushed forward to prevent them being unsheathed. It proved to be a bad mistake. Side-stepping fast, the blonde avoided the charge and drove her bunched left hand into Wil’s unguarded right breast. Numbing pain such as she had never experienced ripped through Wil as the knuckles found the sensitive area. She fell back, wide open to the attack with which Lily followed up her advantage. Showing a skill many a man might have envied, the blonde thumped the mayor in the belly and, as she folded over, hooked the other fist into her face to lift her erect. Blood dribbled from the corner of Wil’s mouth as she reeled backwards into the wall.

  ‘You didn’t learn enough,’ Lily answered, rushing after her like a tigress.

  Everything seemed to be revolving wildly before Wil’s eyes as she tried desperately to protect herself. Alternating between the mayor’s head and body, the blonde kept one blow ahead of her attempts at defense. When Wil tried to cover her head, Lily hammered at her body, either hitting her stomach or jabbing uppercuts at her vulnerable breasts. It was a kind of treatment she had never suffered during ‘fisticuffs’ lessons at college. Soon she careened helplessly the width of the room under the wicked onslaught. It could not last. Taking a rough-house swing to the jaw, Wil crashed to the floor with a thud that resounded in the room below.