Saving Masterson

by Bill Brooks

  Once more he found the bar and the sure-fire liquor and began to drink with gusto. And having counted what was left of his per diem money, Hoodoo figured there was still enough to buy himself female companionship for an hour or two and did spot a waif of a gal with pale unblemished skin—a rarity indeed—and beckoned her near with a hoot and holler.

  She told him her name was Mattie Silks, was one and the same who’d brought a rare measure of comfort to the man standing singular at the bar’s end—Two Bits Cline, who did take notice of the ruffian, loud and profane even when he wasn’t talking. Took notice, and an immediate dislike to him.

  Something rippled down through Two Bits—some form of jealousy perhaps, or maybe a fatherly instinct for children he never had; Mattie could well have been a daughter perhaps; a fair young thing who did the best she could to survive and bring men pleasure even if it meant sacrificing some of her own. To Two Bits, Mattie was a rare wildflower upon a prairie of bad grass.

  Mattie came close to the oafish man from New Mexico, whose breath and person stank of sweat and liquor and lust.

  Two Bits overheard the following conversation:

  Hoodoo: “How much you charge, gal?”

  Mattie: “It depends on what you want, mister.”

  Hoodoo: “I want you and all night long.”

  Mattie: “Ten dollars a throw, and I don’t know about all night long.”

  It was enough to rankle Two Bits down to his boots and he moved down along the bar until he had joined the two uninvited.

  A sweet smile settled on Mattie’s face when she saw the man who had been kind to her not an hour before.

  “Hidy Mr. Two Bits.”

  “Miss Silks,” Two Bits said, touching lightly the brim of his Stetson.

  “Who you?” Hoodoo said.

  “I’m Two Bits,” Two Bits said.

  “No, I mean, who you to come interfering with me and this frail sister?”

  “I’m Two Bits,” Two Bits said again.

  “’At don’t mean shit to me.”

  “I’m her daddy,” Two Bits said. Mattie giggled at the joke, but down deep within her bosom she enjoyed the thought that her daddy would be so gallant, for her real and true daddy had never been. In a sudden flash of memory, she remembered a man broke down in spirit and body, a man with wild hair and crazed eyes.

  Hoodoo’s brows wriggled like two wooly worms in a skillet.

  “Say, what the hell is this!”

  “She ain’t for sale,” Two Bits said.

  Now it was Mattie’s turn to look confounded.

  “Then what is she, winder dressing?”

  Hoodoo grabbed Mattie hard by the wrists with it in mind to haul her upstairs where the cribs were. Such he’d noticed earlier, each crib marked by a red curtain, and further, he’d seen this same skinny gal taking up a customer or two herself, so it was with great chagrin he was being interfered with by what looked like a crusty old man.

  But when Hoodoo made his move, Two Bits made his: swept off his hat and slapped Hoodoo two or three fast times across the face with it, then plopped it back on his head just as quick.

  It took a full second for the insult to spark in Hoodoo’s besotted brain, but when it did, the insult grew from a tiny flame to a raging fire.

  Hoodoo reached for his belly gun and Two Bits reached for his own trusty pistols.

  And Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Shots were fired.

  Hoodoo fell back with his shirt ablaze and two holes in him spilling blood. He fell grasping and clawing the air and somebody took a spittoon and tossed its putrid contents on him to douse the flame as he squirmed on the dirty floor, where men had stood and spat and missed, staining the floorboards for several years. And as he lay dying, Hoodoo recalled the warnings and admonitions of his dear sweet ma about the evils of liquor and cards and painted women and knew she’d been right all along.

  It was too late now and maybe he’d see her on the other side.

  He felt the prairie wind and the snow falling from a blood red sky into his very bones as the world and all that was in it seemed to slip as quietly away as a burglar—a thief who was taking with him Hoodoo’s very soul.

  Then the lovely young face leaned in close and he could see that Mattie Silks had different colored eyes—one green, one brown—and he wondered why he ever chose her in the first place.

  “Oh faithless child,” he uttered.

  She didn’t know what he meant and neither did Two Bits Cline, whose guns were still leaking smoke.

  Two little lead pills was all that struck Hoodoo down, but it felt like there was an elephant standing on his chest and that it wasn’t ever going to get off.

  His glassy gaze shifted from Mattie to Two Bits.

  “You…you…” he said.

  “It sure was,” Two Bits said.

  Now above him a whole circle of faces had gathered and joined those of Two Bits Cline and Mattie Silks. Then there appeared among the faces two he recognized: the Masterons, Bat and Ed. It felt suddenly as though he were falling down a well and the world got dark and cold and awfully lonely.

  Of course the law wanted to know who he was and what happened and several replies were forthcoming, most defending the actions of Two Bits, the little stranger in the big hat who came to the cyprian’s aid having seen, they said, the way the now dead man had assaulted her by grabbing her roughly. They were in accordance on the facts.

  “Self-defense,” they shouted.

  But Bat then asked a very pointed and legal question.

  “Didn’t you see the sign at the city limits about no firearms?”

  “I can’t read,” Two Bits said.

  “Ignorance is no excuse to break the law,” Ed said.

  “I ain’t never had nobody call me ignorant before.”

  “You best give up them guns or clear out of town, mister,” Bat said. “That’s a lawman you shot there.”

  “Well then, you’d think he’d know it was wrong to assault a woman.”

  Bat and Ed traded looks. “What’s it to be, turn in your guns or leave town?” Bat said.

  “I’ll leave. It don’t seem like a friendly place whatsoever.”

  “You make sure you do. We catch you around here wearing pistols again, we’ll lock you up and toss away the key.”

  “You the Mastersons I heard so much about?”

  “We are and what about it?”

  Two Bits felt like his luck was unfolding just about right.

  Chapter 26

  Bat unlocked the cell.

  “You’re free to go.”

  “How come?” Teddy asked.

  “That sheriff from New Mexico, Brown, he got himself killed last night.”

  “You don’t want to hold me till they can send someone else?”

  “Hell no. Whatever their problems are in New Mexico, aren’t mine or Ed’s.”

  “Much obliged.”

  “What about me?” Bad Hand Frank said.

  “What about you?”

  “You could let me go too, I’d leave town.”

  “Right,” Bat said, closing the door shut again and locking it.

  Bat walked out to the front part of the jail, where Ed’s office was. He opened a desk drawer and took out Teddy’s gun rig.

  “You sure about this, Sheriff?”

  “I am.”

  “Then I’ll get back to work.”

  “It might be better if you moved on. Some other lawman might just show up from New Mexico once they get word their man is dead.”

  “I figure if they do send someone it will be at least a week before he arrives. That should give me time to finish the job I came here for.”

  “Suit yourself. But just remember, a bird only gets so many chances to fly.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Teddy walked to the Wright House and went in. Mae almost dropped a tray of food when she saw him. Instead she served it to a table of business types, men in stripped suits and paper collars, th
en hurried over.

  “How did you—”

  “It looks like you’re busy. Why don’t I explain later?”

  “You didn’t—”

  “No, they let me go.” He could see the relief on her face and it made him feel good that she cared so much.

  “Coffee, something to eat?”

  “Yes, both.”

  She took his order and hurried off and came back twenty minutes later with his meal. “I’ve arranged to get off early,” she said.

  “Great.”

  “We need to talk.”

  He heard the urgency in her voice. “Yeah, I might not be able to stay in Dodge too much longer, the way things are going.”

  “I sent the wire to your friend, by the way.”

  “Good.”

  “I have to get back to waiting the tables. Come pick me up at noon if you can, otherwise I’ll wait for you at the boarding house.”

  He nodded and they exchanged looks, and he watched her as she went off to wait on another table. He ate quickly and left.

  He needed to check out Angus Bush. Process of elimination, he told himself. If it wasn’t Bush, then that brought it down to Bone Butcher, according to Dog Kelly at least. He crossed the street and started down to the deadline. He decided to make a brief stop at Dog’s Alhambra saloon to see if anything further had developed.

  He noticed Ed and Bat standing out front of Ed’s office, talking.

  Then he saw something that put him on alert: three men coming up the street from a direction behind the Mastersons. Normally he wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but he knew by the way the men were moving—the way they were armed with their coats thrown open to show the pistols punched into their waistbands, and one of them carrying a shotgun—that they weren’t out for a morning stroll. They looked rough in their dirty slouch hats and dusty long coats. They were trouble all the way around and they were headed straight toward the Mastersons, who hadn’t yet noticed them.

  He went quickly toward where Bat and Ed stood talking, hoping his movement wouldn’t alert the three shootists too soon. He saw them fan out, two of them stepping into the street, the one with the shotgun bringing it up to his shoulder.

  Teddy was ten yards from the brothers.

  “Bat!” he yelled, breaking into a dead run, drawing the Lightning from his shoulder rig.

  Bat looked up first, his face full of uncertainty.

  Teddy didn’t wait to explain, but took aim at the shotgunner and fired. The bullet missed, but it was enough to alert the Mastersons they were under attack. They both turned, drawing their weapons, and as they did the air suddenly crackled with the sound of pistol fire and the big boom of the shotgun, whose pellets shattered the windows of Ed’s office.

  Teddy stopped running and brought his gun to bear on the man with the sawed-off, who was breaking it open now to plug in a new set of shells. The gunfighter’s calm took over as Teddy took careful aim, and he could see the brothers coolly standing their ground, firing as well. But even the coolest head under withering gunfire could miss an otherwise easy target.

  The man with the shotgun snapped it shut again and brought it up, taking aim at Bat, who was busy returning the fire of the other two, who had taken refuge—one behind a wagon and the other behind a porch post.

  One shot, Teddy’s instinct told him. One shot or he kills Bat.

  It was a distance of some forty paces, he figured. The odds were long that he could drop the man at such a distance with a handgun, but the odds didn’t really play into it as he brought the front blade sight down on the man’s upper torso and fired.

  The Lightning kicked in his hand. The bullet spun the shotgunner sideways. He cried out, dropping the sawed-off, but then steadied himself and bent to pick it up again.

  Bat turned in time to see the action just as Ed got hit and went down.

  Bat flashed a quick look at Teddy, but Teddy was already drawing bead on the man again, and when the shotgunner’s hands reached the stock of the double-barrel, Teddy pulled the trigger.

  They’d put together a hasty plan. Well, Dirty Dave had put together the plan and Buck and Hannibal had gone along with it.

  Dave had said, “We’ll wait for ’em to come out on the street first thing, and when they do, we’ll walk up on ’em and shoot ’em before they get the sleep out of their eyes.”

  “Risky,” Hannibal said.

  “Everything is,” Dave said. “Soon’s we shoot ’em, we’ll walk straight over and rob that bank and be rich men.”

  “We could get shot,” Buck said. “I thought we was going to shoot ’em in their sleep.”

  “We can’t wait to catch ’em sleeping. We might get one but not the other. No, boys, the longer we wait the riskier it is—the element of surprise, that’s the trick. I’ve thought this thing through and I think we’ll just surprise ’em, and today’s as good a day as any.”

  Still, Hannibal and Buck were somewhat reluctant, but Dave had made up a story for them: He told them he’d heard the bank was flush with money and that a big payroll was being shipped out that very day on the noon flyer.

  “We don’t do this today, half the money will be gone from that bank.”

  “We could rob the dang train,” Buck said.

  “Remember what I told you about what happened to Jake Crowfoot? I ain’t about to rob no dang train and fall under its wheels and be cut to ribbons, you?”

  And so it was agreed that they’d wait on the street that early morning until the two brothers could be spotted and then take action.

  It happened like Dave had predicted it would and the brothers appeared in front of the jail together and Dave said, “Let’s go shoot them sons a bitches,” and Buck said, “Why not?”

  “Yeah, why the hell not?” Hannibal said. Hannibal was carrying a shotgun. “I can do some mean work with this.”

  “You sure as hell can,” Buck said and grinned and felt happy with the two pistols stuck inside his belt because he’d soon be a rich man.

  It was Dirty Dave who saw the stranger running their direction as they approached the Mastersons.

  “Who the fuck is that?”

  The boys offered blank looks.

  “Deputy maybe?” Buck said.

  “Possible,” Dave said. “Kill him too. You boys fan out.”

  Hannibal felt the bullet hit him and it was like a punch that caused his arms to go momentarily numb and spun him around. He’d been shot before, but not this bad, he told himself. Instinct made him bend to pick the shotgun up again. But when he touched it, the world as he knew it disappeared.

  Teddy turned his attention to the other two, saw one go down, figured Bat had shot the man, since Ed himself was down and struggling to get up again. Teddy fired on the remaining man, so did Bat. Both shots hit Dirty Dave almost at the same instant.

  Dave felt air under his boots, felt himself being lifted and it was a sort of pleasant feeling for a moment. Then he was slammed to the ground and he had a hard time breathing.

  Why am I chewing this goddamn dirt? he wondered. It was a gritty terrible taste as the pain of something white-hot crawled through his blood, seemed to clutch at his heart and squeeze, caused him to chew the ground he lay facedown on. He turned his head and spat. That is when he saw the quizzical stare of Buck Pierce, those colorless eyes looking at him as if to say What the hell happened to us? Dave saw too, some of Buck’s jaw had been shot off—a piece of white bone in a red glistening maw of raw meat where the chin should have been.

  Bat turned to help Ed to his feet, saw that he was shot through the lower portion of his leg. Teddy walked down the street toward the fallen men, gun cocked and aimed, knowing that dead men weren’t always as dead as they seemed.

  “You hit?” Bat shouted.

  “No. How’s Ed?”

  “He’ll live.”

  Teddy stood over the shotgunner. His second shot had ripped through the man’s skull ear to ear. There was no life in him.

  He moved on to the
other two, saw that one had half his face shot away. The other was still breathing but his wounds were grievous.

  Bat sat Ed in a chair there in front of the jail and came over and stood next to Teddy.

  Bat shook his head, said, “Goddamn Dave, I guess you won’t be escaping any more mud jails.”

  “You know this one?” Teddy said.

  “Dirty Dave Rudabaugh. Me and Ed have been chasing his ass almost as long as we’ve been the law.”

  “Well, it looks like you won’t have to chase him anymore.”

  “Looks like it.”

  In spite of his wounds Dave was gasping. “Water…oh, Lord, I need water.”

  By now the streets were crowded with locals who’d come to see what the commotion was about. They moved in close to the dead and the living.

  Bat looked at some of the men and said, “Well, take this one to Doc’s. I doubt he’ll live, but I won’t have him lying here like a run-over dog. Some of you boys take them other two over the undertaker and see he gets ’em buried. Tell him it’s to be a plain and nothing fancy burying since the county’s paying.”

  “What about Ed?” one of them said.

  “Hell, I almost forgot. Take him to Doc’s too.”

  Once the dead and wounded had been removed, the streets cleared of spectators.

  Bat said, “I need to go check on Ed, but…”

  “You don’t need to say it,” Teddy replied.

  “Yeah, I do. I owe you, and I apologize for being such a damn stick about you coming here. That was a damn fine piece of shooting, Mr. Blue.”

  “Damn fine piece of shooting to you too, Bat.”

  Bat let a half smile cross his mouth, then held out his hand and Teddy shook it.

  Dog Kelly had been among the many who came to see the aftermath of the shootout.

  “They’s blood on the streets of Dodge again, but thank God it ain’t none of yours or the Masterson brothers. You think them’s the ones hired to kill ’em?”