The Hide and Tallow Men (A Floating Outfit Western. Book 7)

by J. T. Edson

  ‘What I don’t see is why he went after Mr. Viridian once he’d got out,’ Mark commented. ‘Way I heard it, he was riled because he reckoned he’d been cheated on those wolf skins he’d brought in ’

  ‘I paid him a fair price! ’ Schweitzer protested, while Marlene darted a grateful smile at the big blond for having changed the subject.

  ‘Nobody’s gainsaying it, sir,’ Mark drawled. ‘Only, him being riled at you, I’d’ve expected him to have gone after your scalp. Especially after he’d gone to the trouble of getting hold of a can of kerosene so’s he could burn you out.’

  ‘Maybe that’s what he meant to do,’ the storekeeper suggested. ‘But he changed his mind when he found there were four men with shotguns covering the store.’

  ‘Four men!’ Viridian ejaculated in a startled voice. Then, realizing that such a display of emotion was likely to attract unwanted attention, managed to continue in an almost natural tone. ‘Which four men?’

  ‘I got to thinking during the evening that, as Ribagorza wouldn’t be able to hit at the factory the way it was guarded, he might come into town,’ Sparlow explained, showing no sign of noticing how the hide and tallow man had reacted to Schweitzer’s comment. ‘And, figuring that the store was owned by the Company, it could be his main target. So I had Silky and three more men with shotguns positioned where they could see every side even in the dark. They had orders to cut loose at anybody who went near it.’

  ‘That was right smart figuring,’ Mark praised. ‘Only it doesn’t tell us why Twickery went after Mr. Viridian.’

  ‘Probably because he was determined to get back at the Company and decided to settle for burning down one of its houses,’ Sparlow suggested. ‘What do you think, Mr. Viridian?’

  ‘Huh?’ grunted the burly man, jolted from his reverie by being addressed. His face showed the worry by considering the implications of what he had just heard. If he had not been intercepted by Twickery, he would have walked into the trap which the gambler had laid without informing him. ‘I think we should do everything we can to find out who helped that son-of-a-bitch to escape—and why he did it.’

  Twelve – There’s Going to Be Another Hold Up

  ‘Keno! Promenade to your seats!

  Hurry up, gals, now don’t be slow!

  Kiss the poor ole caller afore you go!’

  Accompanied by a flourish from the musicians—a pianist, a fiddler and a guitar player—the caller brought to an end the spirited Virginia reel and the dancers streamed away from the cleared section of the New Orleans Saloon’s barroom. For once, the ‘good’ ladies of the town were present and, despite their earlier misgivings regarding the propriety of holding a celebration so soon after de Froissart’s death, all appeared to be having a good time.

  Giving a graceful bow to the plump wife of the stage line’s telegraphist, who was clearly delighted at having been the partner of the most handsome man in the room, Mark Counter ignored the inviting glances that were being directed at him by Marlene Viridian and Gianna Profaci. Fortunately for him, as the wives of partners in the Pilar Hide & Tallow Company, they were both in demand by the other ladies of the town who only rarely had the privilege of meeting them socially. Several of the townswomen descended upon the pair, who had each taken care to dress her best for the occasion, and Mark took the opportunity to stroll across to the bar.

  Although he was the blond giant’s host, Austin Viridian made no attempt to greet him as he approached. Instead, the hide and tallow man pretended to be absorbed in listening to the livery barn’s hostler and the owner of the rooming house as they explained their theories regarding Twickery’s escape. Neither of them were coming anywhere close to what Viridian believed had happened, but he found them a convenient way of avoiding the company of the young Texan. Sensing that he was being snubbed, without caring about it, Mark made his way to the other end of the bar. He found an empty space and leaned with his left elbow resting on top of the counter.

  ‘Enjoying yourself, Mr. Counter?’ Jesse Sparlow inquired, joining the blond giant as the bartender slid a schooner of beer to him.

  ‘Why sure,’ Mark confirmed and nodded towards the center of the barroom. ‘But I never expected to see all these folks here.’

  ‘There was some talk that we shouldn’t throw a wing-ding with Pierre only just planted at sundown,’ the gambler admitted. ‘But I pointed out that it’s a tradition down home in New Orleans to give the departed a rousing send off and how he’d’ve wanted it that way.’

  ‘Folks sure took you at your word,’ Mark commented. ‘But, way they’re all drinking like it’s going out of fashion, seeing’s it’s for free, it’ll cost you plenty.’

  ‘I’ll get it back from them in the long run,’ Sparlow declared confidently. ‘It’s a pity that Ribagorza and his men didn’t come in after they’d delivered the herd. I’d’ve got most of their money from them.’

  ‘They went off to see if they could round up some more cattle,’ Mark pointed out, which was true as far as it went.

  On the Mexicans bringing their herd to the factory, Viridian—who had insisted on taking Mark with him—had made an offer to Ribagorza. With Schweitzer’s approval, he had promised to pay five dollars for every head of cattle they could bring in before the end of the week. The only stipulation had been that the animals must bear the OD Connected’s brand so that they could be used in the partners’ scheme to discredit General Hardin and Colonel Goodnight. Accepting, Ribagorza had set off immediately instead of visiting the town for a celebration.

  ‘It’s probably as well. I couldn’t have made them buy their drinks when I’m giving it to the white folks,’ Sparlow said philosophically. Then, after looking at the nearest men, he lowered his voice and went on, ‘How do you think Twickery got out of jail?’

  ‘I don’t know enough about it to decide,’ Mark answered cagily.

  ‘You asked some pretty shrewd questions this afternoon,’ Sparlow protested. ‘And I got the feeling there was more than one who didn’t want them answered.’

  There had only been a little more discussion about Twickery’s escape before the party had separated. Although Mark had tried to keep it going, Viridian and Schweitzer had clearly been against continuing. Viridian had used the expected arrival of Ribagorza and the cattle as an excuse to leave and Schweitzer had claimed that he was wanted at his store.

  To Mark’s way of thinking, apart from the partners’ respective reluctance to having a thorough examination of the matter, the most significant point had been Viridian’s interest in the guard on the store. He had remarked that the members of the patrol who he had supplied with coffee had not mentioned it. To which Sparlow had replied that, as he had not reached the decision until almost midnight, they had not known what was to be done. Mark had formed a pretty accurate conclusion of what had happened, or should have, but had kept it to himself.

  Having finished the drinks and accepted the gambler’s invitation to the festivities that evening, the party had gone their separate ways. Although Marlene had hinted that Mark should have accompanied her home, Viridian had requested that he went out to the factory. During the ride, Viridian had not been communicative. With the cattle purchased, they had returned to the hide and tallow man’s mansion where they had bathed and made ready for the celebration. Then, after an excellent meal—which Gianna had attended—they had made their way back to the saloon.

  ‘Somebody helped him to escape,’ Sparlow continued, when Mark offered no comment. ‘And it wasn’t Ribagorza’s men. So who do you think it might have been?’

  ‘How would I know?’ Mark replied, succeeding in his attempt to sound disinterested. Nodding to where a clearly bored Gianna was still held in conversation with the townswomen, he continued, ‘Now that’s what I call a right fetching woman.’

  ‘And a married one,’ the gambler warned coldly.

  ‘That don’t make no never-mind to me,’ Mark declared in a brash manner, deciding that he had been correct about Sparlow�
��s reaction when Gianna had stumbled into his arms from the buckboard. ‘Husbands aren’t immortal, which’d make her a rich widow should he happen to die. I’ve always had me a yen for rich widows.’

  ‘What makes you think her husband might die?’ Sparlow demanded, adopting the flat and emotionless tone that was a professional gambler’s stock-in-trade.

  ‘Your—half brother—got gunned down in a hold up, by fellers who was after a pay roll there was no reason for them to think he’d be carrying,’ Mark explained. ‘And, way things look, somebody’s tried twice to get good old Austin killed. I’d say it’s getting right unhealthy around here—for some folks.’

  ‘You mean that Gomez and Twickery ’ Sparlow began, having noticed the slight hesitation when the big blond had mentioned his relationship with de Froissart. It implied doubt about them being half-brothers.

  ‘Shucks, tonight’s for funning not figuring,’ Mark interrupted and finished his beer with a long pull. ‘Looks like the band’s going to start up. I reckon I’ll see if I can get in the same set x as Gianna.’

  ‘I thought you was here with Marlene,’ the gambler commented, setting down his glass and stepping away from the counter at Mark’s side.

  ‘She’s got her husband along,’ the blond giant pointed out and delivered a conspiratorial wink at the other man. ‘Which same, a feller should do like a wise old Injun once said, have more than one string to his bow.’

  Ignoring the scowl directed at him by the gambler, Mark strolled across the floor and asked if he could join the set for the next dance. He saw that Viridian had also quit the bar and was approaching. When the music commenced, the set consisted of Gianna, Marlene, two townsmen, Mark, Sparlow, Viridian and the local blacksmith. Having moved faster than Marlene, the Italian woman formed a couple with the blond giant. Until the caller had organized a general change of partners, Mark was subjected to cold glares by three people.

  ‘What’s the idea with her?’ Marlene hissed, through lips which held what she hoped would pass for a smile of pleasure, as she and Mark twirled around after being brought together.

  ‘Just this,’ the big Texan replied, no louder. ‘If I can learn when her man’s coming back, there’s going to be another “hold up”.’

  ‘Oh! ’ Marlene breathed and he felt her relax a trifle.

  For all her apparent acceptance of the excuse, Marlene clearly did not intend to let Mark spend too much time in her rival’s company. As soon as the dance was over, she made no repetition of her earlier attempts to avoid the townswomen. Instead, she started talking to the pair who had shared the set with her. Before Gianna could try to reach the big blond, who had been coupled with one of the older women during the last stage, Marlene began to praise her cooking. So Gianna found herself being bombarded with questions about recipes.

  ‘I reckon I’d best start to circulate and make sure everybody’s got all they want,’ Sparlow remarked, hardly troubling to hide his satisfaction as he watched Marlene ensnare Gianna. ‘See you around, gents.’

  ‘I don’t like to talk business at a time like this, Herb,’ Viridian informed the blacksmith, giving no sign of realizing that Mark was close by. ‘But I’d like you to ’tend to the coach first thing in the morning. Come and have a drink while I tell you what wants doing.’

  ‘Well ’ the blacksmith began, looking at the big blond in embarrassment.

  ‘You go ahead, gents,’ Mark drawled cheerfully. ‘I don’t take to business-talk any time. And, anyways, I’ve got to go out back.’

  On his return, after visiting the backhouse and relieving himself, Mark strolled across the room. Before he reached the bar, the largest of Sparlow’s three supporters came slouching towards him. There was something in the burly man’s attitude and expression which gave the big youngster a warning of his intentions. While he did not appear to be armed, Silky’s right hand was grasping something in the pocket of his jacket.

  Wanting to test his theory and, if possible, avoid trouble, Mark changed direction slightly. He was sure that his summation had been correct when Silky moved to converge with him. Stepping aside at the last moment, Mark deftly averted the collision and, as though he had suspected nothing, walked on without a backwards glance. However, he continued to keep an eye on the man via the long bar mirror. Although Silky glared over his shoulder, he did not attempt to follow. Instead he joined his two companions. Noticing how they glanced at him when Silky addressed them, he deduced that he was the topic of their conversation.

  Ordering another schooner of beer, Mark watched the bartender until it had been drawn and delivered. If, as he suspected, the incident with Silky had arisen out of Sparlow’s desire to prevent him from furthering his acquaintance with Gianna, other precautions could have been taken. Remembering how Twickery had been dealt with in the saloon, Mark had no intention of suffering a similar fate. However, he did not detect anything to suggest that his drink had been tampered with and sipped at it while waiting for the next dance.

  On the caller requesting the formation of sets, Mark set aside his schooner and walked towards Gianna. Throwing out a challenging glare, Silky cut in front of him. Although the man laid himself open for reprisals, Mark knew that it was not the time to take action. Without making it obvious, he turned aside and asked a woman in an adjacent set if they could make a couple.

  Twice during the dance, Silky attempted to bump into Mark as they passed each other. Fast on his feet, the big youngster avoided him on both occasions. The incidents made him all the more certain that the saloon worker was trying to provoke him. Mark also concluded that while hefty and probably a skilled brawler, Silky was neither agile nor quick thinking. Dealing with him did not appear to present any exceptional difficulties, as long as Mark chose the place and means correctly. However, there were his two companions to be taken into consideration. They were hovering in the background, both tall, lean and hard-looking, with revolvers holstered on their thighs.

  Contriving to be some distance away from Silky when the dance ended, Mark returned to the bar. Facing it, he leaned his elbows on top and his right hand grasped the handle of the full schooner which was placed before him. Instead of drinking, he watched the reflections of the three hard-cases as they approached him. When they came to a halt a few feet to his rear, he guessed that they were determined to force the issue. Standing ahead of his companions, Silky once more had his right hand in his pocket.

  ‘There’s one thing I can’t stand, Shem, Dub,’ the big saloon worker announced in carrying tones. ‘And that’s a feller’s pretends to be something he ain’t. Especially when he’s a dude who tries to look like cow-nurse.’

  There were a number of men at the counter and all but Mark looked at the speaker. Silence dropped over them as they realized the words could only apply to the blond youngster. Showing no signs that he had heard, Mark never moved nor spoke. Quickly he scanned the room, with the aid of the mirror, finding—as he had expected—that Sparlow appeared to have left. That figured. The gambler would need an excuse for failing to prevent his employees from picking the fight.

  ‘Hey, boy!’ Silky went on, staring at Mark so that there could be no doubt as to whom the words were being directed. ‘Are you a dude?’

  ‘Do you mean me?’ Mark inquired mildly, without turning.

  ‘Everybody else at the bar’s a man,’ Silky answered. ‘So it has to be you’s I’m talking to.’

  ‘Well now,’ Mark drawled. ‘I couldn’t rightly come out and say I’m a dude.’

  ‘You look hellish fancy dressed for a cow-nurse,’ Silky pointed out, wanting to plant the idea of an alternative occupation in his audience’s head. One which would let him explain the way in which he planned to handle the affair.

  ‘Feller I buy my clothes off’d be right pleasured to hear you say that,’ the big blond declared.

  Becoming aware of the situation that was developing at the bar, the other occupants of the room fell silent. Through the mirror, Mark could see that every eye was turni
ng his way.

  While Marlene looked worried, neither she nor anybody else offered to intervene. Several of the townsmen appeared to be glancing at Viridian and Schweitzer as if in search of guidance. When none was forthcoming from either source, they stood still and awaited developments.

  ‘Thing being,’ Silky continued, raising his voice. He was puzzled by the lack of response and disappointed that his intended victim did not turn or make any other movement which would justify what he was meaning to do. ‘Cow-nurses don’t make enough money to buy fancy clothes like your’n.’

  There was movement at the bars, but Mark did not make it. While the men nearest to him began to edge away, so as to be out of the line of fire if shooting started, he continued to stand with his back to the trio. From all appearances, he might not have known they were there, but he kept them under constant observation.

  ‘You-all figure he ain’t a cow-nurse, Silky?’ Shem inquired from the left, guessing what his companion was trying to do.

  ‘That’s just what I figure,’ the burly man agreed. ‘I reckon he’s a hired gun, or worse.’

  ‘What’d be worse’n a hired gun, Silky?’ Dub wanted to know, playing along with the line Shem had taken.

  ‘I ain’t sure,’ the burly man admitted. ‘But we’ve got the feller here’s can tell us. And he’s going to. You heard me, you big son-of-a-bitch. Turn ar—!’

  While speaking, Silky advanced and began to raise the Remington Double Derringer without trying to extract it from his jacket’s pocket. Such a method of shooting was not conductive to accuracy and he wanted to be so close that he could not miss. As he started to move, he hoped that the blond youngster would be provoked into turning. If he did not, Silky might find it difficult to explain why he had opened fire.

  Silky’s hope materialized—but not in the manner he had envisaged.