by Bill Brooks
“Come on back when you need another shave or a haircut.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Hope I didn’t talk your ears off.”
Teddy fingered his cheeks and chin then settled the Stetson on his head.
“You didn’t.”
Jim Masterson entered the shop just as Teddy was ready to leave. The two men exchanged glances, Jim saying, “Hidy” and Teddy returning the greeting. The barber said, “Come sit in this chair and let me shore you of them long locks,” and Jim settled in as Teddy went out the door. A cool wind blew down the street. It was a good morning thus far, Teddy thought.
Chapter 14
Bat was daydreaming of high-caliber places like Philadelphia and Boston and New York City when Ed came into the Lone Star and said, “I could use your help.”
“What is it?”
“Mattie Silks shot her pimp and is threatening to kill Bucktooth Nell.”
“Lovers’ spat, I take it,” Bat said with a half grin.
“Goddamn, this is serious, Bat.”
“Where’s your deputies?”
“One’s out sick with the gout and O’Dell is off hunting antelope.”
Bat straightened from where he’d been leaning on the bar sipping a cocktail as he daydreamed.
“Where’s Mattie at now?”
“Up in Nell’s crib. She’s cussing and saying how she’s going to blow Nell’s brains out.”
“Over Beaver Jack?”
“Who else?”
“Pimps and whores,” Bat said disgustedly.
They strode down the street to the Long Branch and looked dangerous doing it. A sizeable crowd had gathered in the saloon and stood looking up toward the second floor, where the cribs were located.
Dog Kelly was among the spectators. “Boys, we got a situation on our hands. It ain’t good business having whores shooting pimps and other whores. Pimps is okay, but whores is precious…”
“Just say the word,” Ed said, “and we’ll burn everything south of these tracks to the ground.”
“We was to do that, the cowboys would burn up the north half next time they bring a herd in,” Dog said glumly. “One hand always washes the other.”
They could hear Nell’s shrieks and Mattie’s cussing her, saying such as, “You damn backstabbing trollop!”
“How’d this start?” Bat said.
Dog Kelly seemed to have the story as well as anyone.
“Mattie caught Beaver Jack rutting with Nell, or the other way around. Shot him twice, once in the liver, the other through the arm. He’s in a bad way far as I can tell when they carried him out of here. Now she aims to kill Nell for trying to steal her man.”
“What’s stopping her?” Ed asked.
“I don’t know, I guess she wants to put the fear of Jesus in Nell first, let her squirm a little before she plugs her.”
“Women,” Bat said, and started up the stairs taking them two at a time, Ed on his heels.
“Mattie,” Bat called through the door.
“What?”
“It’s Bat Masterson. Ed’s out here too. Why don’t you let Nell come on out and stop all this foolishness?”
“She’ll come out toes up, the way I found her underneath Jack.”
“Don’t be talking nonsense now, girl.”
“You seen Beaver?”
“No, he’s been carried over to Doc’s, the way I understand it.”
“Is he dead?”
Bat looked at Ed, Ed shrugged.
“No, he isn’t dead. Just shot a little, nothing too serious. I’m sure he’ll forgive you once he heals.”
“Oh Jesus!” Mattie’s cry was full of remorse, it sounded like. “Jesus I dint mean to kill him!”
“You didn’t kill him,” Ed repeated.
“We’ll just chalk this whole thing up to a lovers’ spat,” Ed said. “But you have to let Nell go.”
“I aim to kill this damn strumpet.”
“That’d get you hanged, Nell. You know I’d hate like hell to have to hang a woman, but a lot of these folks would see it as a pure spectacle, something to do during the slow time of the year. You wouldn’t want to become a spectacle, would you?”
“I don’t care!”
Dog had climbed the stairs as well and now stood next to Ed, impressed yet again by Bat’s use of two-bit words. Spectacle! He liked it.
“Mattie, you’d be the biggest dang spectacle this town was ever to see if we have to hang you. You’d be a bigger spectacle than the time Wild Bill’s wife brought her circus to town. More folks’d come to see you get hanged than what went to see them elephants.” Dog felt proud of his ability to employ the word spectacle in his argument.
“Is that you, Dog?”
“Sure is. Bat’s right, you oughter listen to him.”
For a long time nobody said anything.
“Shit, Mattie, I’ve got things to do,” Bat said. “I’m coming in. If you’re so damn intent on taking life, take mine.” And with that Bat kicked open the door.
Mattie stood with both hands holding a big Navy Colt, its barrel pointed the general direction of Bucktooth Nell who was cowering on a loveseat covered in red damask.
Bat reached out and took hold of the revolver, the web of his hand falling between hammer and cylinder to prevent an accidental shooting.
“Turn it loose Mattie, nice and easy,” Bat ordered.
Mattie had venom in her eyes for Nell.
“It takes two to tangle,” Dog Kelly said. “Remember that, Mattie; it ain’t Nell’s fault entirely. It’s some of Beaver Jack’s too.”
“You shot Beaver twice, I guess you could count one of them bullets was for Nell here,” Ed said. “Seems about even up to me, don’t it you?”
“You want us to arrest you, Mattie, or would you rather just go on back to your room and get your things packed and catch the next stage out?” Bat asked.
Mattie stood there trembling, the defeated temptress, her shoulders slumped, knowing she’d lost at the game of love the way some lost at cards or roulette.
“Can I stop over to Doc’s and see Beaver first?”
“Sure,” Ed said. “Long as you ain’t armed.”
They escorted her down the stairs and out the front doors. Nell stayed in her room, shaking like an aspen in an autumn wind, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks.
Once the crowd saw the show was over, they went back to their homes and businesses, and some ordered a drink and some felt cheated because they’d arrived too late to see the first shooting, to see Beaver Jack carried out. All they saw were the drops of blood the swamper was mopping up—not much in the way of excitement.
Ed walked Mattie over to Doc’s, where he watched her weep and kiss the much-in-agony Beaver Jack upon his lips, saying as she did, “I loved you hard, you should’ve known I couldn’t tolerate finding you with someone of Nell’s low caliber.”
Beaver didn’t say much, as influenced by Doc’s laudanum as he’d become. Ed thought he had the look of a man who was seeing an angel come visit him with the good news God wasn’t ready for him yet. Beaver’s eyes were rolled up in his head and he muttered mostly nonsense in reply to Mattie’s pleas of love and tender mercy.
Then Ed walked her over to her room at the hotel and waited for her to throw some belongings into a kit.
“I’d do you a personal favor if you’d let me stay in town,” she said rather modestly.
“You couldn’t offer me nothing I couldn’t buy for three dollars and not be obligated,” Ed replied. “I think I’d just as soon not be beholden to you, Mattie.”
“Nothing you could buy in this town would match what I could do for you, Marshal.”
“I’m sure that’s true. You ought to take some extra stockings, it might be cold where you’re going.”
“Where am I going?”
“Next stage is Denver bound, I guess that’s where you’ll be going.”
“I never was up that way.”
“Then it s
hould be a nice experience. I reckon you can find yourself at least ten Beaver Jacks, or better’n him, up in that high-minded city.”
It was maybe the wrong thing to say. Mattie cried—as Ed would later describe it to Bat—a river of tears.
Chapter 15
Frenchy LeBreck was toting the books when Teddy entered the Paris Club. Frenchy wore an eyeshade, garters on his sleeves. He had a stack of paper money near his right hand, a stack of silver and gold coins to his left and a tote book in the center. He was writing figures down in the book.
Teddy said, “You wanted to see me about a job.”
Under the shade, Frenchy’s dark gaze darted around the room. He swept the money off the table and into a cigar box, took it and the book and said, “Follow me if you please,” and led Teddy to a back room where he deposited box and book in a small thick safe, then latched it shut.
“I want you to kill a man,” Frenchy said, straightening from the safe.
“Who?”
“First I need some assurances you can do this thing I ask of you, that you are as you advertise yourself.”
“You want me to kill someone for free to prove I can and will?”
“No, nothing so bold.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
“A man would have to be pretty foolish to go around advertising himself as a hired gun if he wasn’t one, don’t you think?” Teddy said. “It’s early but I could stand a drink.”
Frenchy sat down behind a small desk, opened a drawer and took out a bottle half filled with amber liquid.
“Bourbon is good, yes?”
“Sure.”
Frenchy held the bottle forth. Teddy took it, pulled the cork and took a decent swallow before handing it back. Frenchy’s eyes never strayed from Teddy’s movements.
“Where you come from, eh?”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not. This man I want you to kill, he’s very dangerous.”
“They all can be, some more than others.”
“How much you charge for such work?”
“Depends. If he’s a high official, a lawman or politician, I charge more than if he’s not. The greater the risks, the higher the fee.”
“This man is no official.”
“Five hundred, then.”
Frenchy nodded his head approvingly.
“I guess that’s okay.”
“It has to be, that’s what I charge.”
“Okay then, when will you do it?”
“When do you want it done?”
“Soon as possible.”
“Then that’s when I’ll do it. I still need to know who it is you want me to kill.”
Frenchy took out a piece of paper and wrote a name on it and shoved it across the desk. Teddy read the name; to his surprise it wasn’t either of the Mastersons. It was Bone Butcher.
“You mind my asking why you want this fellow dead?” Teddy said.
“It’s personal matter. Like you say, what does it matter, eh?”
Teddy shrugged.
“Makes no difference, really.”
“Good, good. I give you some of the money now and some when you finish it, eh?”
“Sure, that will be good.”
Frenchy swiveled the chair about and turned the dial on the safe. It sounded like teeth clicking.
What the hell am I going to do about this? Teddy thought as he waited for Frenchy to retrieve half the money. Two hundred and fifty dollars in paper money is what Frenchy counted out on the desk.
“I only take gold,” Teddy said.
Frenchy’s brows knitted.
“I don’t have that much in gold.”
“When you do, let me know and I’ll take care of this man.”
“Okay, okay, I get it for you today. This is okay with you?”
“You know how to reach me.”
Teddy turned and walked out, relieved he’d bought some time. He went to find Dog Kelly. Dog was entertaining a young robust woman at his private table in the back room of his Alhambra saloon when Teddy found him.
“We need to talk alone,” Teddy stated.
Dog Kelly seemed barely to notice Teddy’s presence, as fixated on the young woman as he was.
“Now,” Teddy said.
Dog looked up.
“Oh, I’d like you to meet Dora Hand,” Dog said. “I’ve just offered her work here as an entertainer.”
Teddy nodded at the woman. She had violet eyes and a rosy complexion. Bunches of thick dark hair piled atop her head. Most of her stuffed into a red dress trimmed in black velvet.
“This is important, Mayor.”
“Sure, sure. Dora, would you excuse us, darling?”
“Yes James,” she said politely. She was sipping a liqueur.
They stepped over to a far corner out of earshot, and Teddy told Dog about the situation with Frenchy LeBreck.
“Now that’s an interesting piece of news.”
“Main thing is, it isn’t the Mastersons he wants killed, so that leaves him out as one of your conspirators.”
Dog could barely keep his attention on the problem at hand. He continued to concern himself with thoughts of Dora Hand.
“You have any ideas on what I should do about this situation?” Teddy said.
“You could always kill Bone,” Dog said. “It wouldn’t be any great loss to the community.”
“I’ll need to meet with the Mastersons,” Teddy said. “As far as I’m concerned this is a situation for the law.”
“Yes, you’re correct, sir. I’ll cogitate on it, but I got to get back to that dear sweet thing at my table lest she ply her ample services elsewhere.”
Dog nodded toward Dora Hand, who offered him a little wave in return.
“Lovely…” Dog said and staggered off like a drunk.
Teddy went down to the city marshal’s office in search of Ed and Bat, but the office was closed. He walked up the street to the Lone Star, where he found Bat sipping a cup of coffee and reading the local newspaper. Jim Masterson was at his usual station behind the bar, fresh haircut and all. Ed was playing a game of chuck-a-luck.
Teddy walked to the bar and ordered a drink, said in confidence to Jim, “I need to meet privately with Bat.”
Jim nodded toward a curtain that separated the main room from a private office, said, “Go on back, I’ll tell Bat.”
When Bat entered a few moments later his face showed yellowing bruises above both eyes from the fight.
Teddy told him about the situation with Frenchy LeBreck.
Bat didn’t seem surprised. “Those two have been rivals since Frenchy first arrived here.”
“What do you plan on doing about it?”
Bat shrugged. “I guess not much. Can’t arrest a man for saying he wants somebody dead.”
“He’s offering five hundred dollars in gold for me to kill Bone Butcher.”
“He give you any of the money yet?”
“Not yet.”
“See, that’s the problem in part. So far, all he’s really done is talk about you killing somebody. I can’t arrest somebody for mere threats. I did, half the town would be locked up.”
“I suspect I’ll have the money before the day’s out.”
“You get it, come see me or Ed. We’ll go arrest Frenchy.”
“He’ll know I’m not who I pose myself as.”
“Not my problem.”
“I’m still trying to find out who wants you and your brother dead.”
“Like I said before, Mr. Blue. Ed and me can handle whatever trouble comes our way. At least we know now it’s not Frenchy wants us put under the sod.”
“Wild Bill thought the same thing. He’s buried up in Dakota if you want to go ask him would he like a chance to reconsider his decision.”
Bat’s gaze narrowed.
“He was past his prime. I’m not, Ed’s not either.”
“I know, you’re both bucking broncos that can’t be broke,” Teddy s
aid and turned and walked out.
He went up to the telegraph office and sent a wire to George Bangs:
Situation not the best. Those hired to serve uncooperative. What is latest on Horace’s investigation? Wire reply soon as possible.
T. Blue.
Outside the telegrapher’s he rolled a shuck and smoked it and let his gaze fall upon the Bibulous Babylon. A rootin’ tootin’ shithole of a town cobbled out of sawn pine and windswept dreams, if ever there was one. Its only saving grace, he thought as he smoked down the last bit of tobacco, is the woman who works at the Wright House. The one he was about to go on a late autumn picnic with.
There wasn’t anything to do about the Frenchy LeBreck situation but ride it out, make decisions when the time came. If he could learn who was trying to kill the Mastersons before Fenchy handed him the money, it wouldn’t matter if the rest of the town learned he was a Pinkerton. If not…Well, he’d worry about it when that time came.
He went along the street until he came to the Wright House, found a chair out front there under the overhang, and took up residence. It was as good a place as any to watch the street, the comings and goings of the locals, and wait for Mae to get off work. He never suspected that in a matter of a few minutes he’d see a man killed over a blue shirt.
Chapter 16
Bad Hand Frank had seen the shirt hanging in Hudson’s, the haberdasher’s shop window. It was the goddamnedest thing he’d ever seen. It shined.
“Sateen,” Hudson said. “Just come in from San Francisco. Only one like it in all of Kansas, I suspect.
“How much?”
“Fifteen dollars.”
Frank whistled.
“A man with a shirt like that would be cock of the walk. I reckon if a fancy feller like Frenchy LeBreck or a proper man like Ted the Banker sees it, one of ’em will snap it up.”
Bad Hand Frank touched it. It was soft and slick and when he touched it, light rippled through it. It had white piping across the front and pearl buttons. He could feel it begging him to buy it.
“I want me this shirt,” he said impulsively.
“Fine, would you like me to wrap it, or would you just like to wear it?”
“See, that’s the problem, I don’t exactly have all fifteen dollars right this very second…on me.”
