by Tony Masero
Tim had turned the entrance Cigar Apartment cubicle into a kind of box office foyer and he had one of the bar girls behind a small table there shelling out tickets in exchange for a fifty-cent entrance fee.
Jesse Lee brushed in and leant over, snapping shut the moneybox. ‘This business is closed down right now,’ he said sharply to the terrified girl. ‘Cecil, you stay here and stop anyone else from coming in. Bolt, you and me take the inside.’
Both men nodded sullenly and Jesse Lee put the moneybox under his arm and pushed open the double swing doors and stepped inside.
The saloon was already half full and expectant customers were gathered, pushing and shoving to find best place at the bar rail. The tables behind were only occupied by a scattering of gentry, the main press being at the bar where Belle and her bartenders were hard pressed to keep up with demand.
Ma Leatherbetter sat to one side, keeping her regular eye on her bar girls who waited listlessly for any unlucky souls who missed out on the nicker-less showgirl and might still find themselves in need of some relief.
It was Ma who first spotted Jesse Lee standing waiting at the door with Bolt behind him, the shotgun held at port arms across his chest.
‘Tim!’ she called. ‘We got company.’
Tim Leatherbetter was down behind the bar with a fresh cask of beer just up from the cellar when the call came and he poked his head curiously over the top of the bar.
‘What is it?’ he asked his mother, who nodded in the direction of the Sheriff.
Tim stood up to his full height and called out over the noise of the crowd, ‘Evening, Sheriff. Anything I can do for you?’
At word of the title a hush descended over the bar room and all heads turned to the two lawmen.
‘I thought you might have shrunk there for a minute,’ said Jesse Lee, with a slight smile. ‘Just on your knees, huh? Hope you was saying your prayers.’
‘No,’ said Tim innocently. ‘Only a new barrel of beer that’s all.’
‘You want to step out away from there?’ said Jesse Lee, one hand placed casually on his hip over the butt of his gun. ‘And we wouldn’t want you to come out with anything in your hands.’
Tim raised his hands peacefully and stepped out from behind the bar. ‘What’s going on, Sheriff? No trouble, I hope.’
‘Not for me, sir. Now the rest of you men step aside,’ Jesse Lee ordered the customers at the bar. ‘This here don’t concern you.’
‘What is it?’ asked Tim, coming forward.
‘Just stay where you are,’ snapped Jesse Lee, pointing a finger. ‘You barmen and that slut with you, come on out also.’
Dutifully both barmen raised their hands and stepped over to join the customers lined up against the wall. Belle took offense at his term but she said nothing only a frown of anger crossed her brow in response at the slur.
‘That’s right, darlin’,’ said Jesse Lee, ‘I know who you are. Poking meat for that dead tinhorn, so don’t go giving me no dirty looks. Now then,’ he said, turning again to Tim. ‘We have order given out by the town council to close these proceedings down. Under ordnance, I’m to take you in Tim Leatherbetter for committing an offense against public decency and, so saying, this dirty little show of yours is shut off immediate.’
‘That’s not right,’ Tim complained. ‘Surely not. This is a saloon dance hall routine, that’s all. A bit of fun and games, no more than that.’
‘You got gals showing their fannies, Tim,’ Jesse Lee leaned forward and explained with a show of patience. ‘We can’t have that here now, can we? Never know who might be watching. Small children and the like, it ain’t decent.’
‘There’s no children in here, Sheriff,’ Tim tried again. ‘Nobody’s in here that don’t want to be and they pay at the door to do that.’
‘That’s the other thing,’ said Jesse Lee, with a slow sneer as he tapped the box under his arm. ‘The money. We got call to confiscate all earnings from these disgraceful demonstrations. Now, you got more hidden away somewhere? We have to come take it, that’s the law.’
There was a rustle and bumping from the foyer behind them and Bolt leaned forward to grunt into Jesse Lee’s ear. ‘You hear that?’
‘Sure,’ said the Sheriff quietly, without turning. ‘That’ll be Cecil taking care of things.’
‘But you can’t make a claim on our cash rightly earned,’ complained Tim, his hands still in the air.
‘Oh, but we can. That’s the law too.’ Jesse Lee smiled with his mouth whilst his eyes remained as hard as stone. He stepped down closer to Tim. ‘You going to hand it over easy or do I have to make you?’
‘A right bully boy, ain’t you?’ piped up Ma from her corner seat. ‘Just leaning on folks with all that spite you got wrapped up inside.’
Jesse Lee turned his steely gaze on her, ‘Shut your mouth, you old buzzard,’ he spelled out slowly. ‘Sit there and shut the fuck up or I’ll come over and split your skull open.’
‘Hey!’ cried Tim. ‘Don’t you talk to my mother like that.’
Jesse Lee pushed his face close into Tim’s, ‘How should I talk to her then? Like she’s something special and not just the sow that pumped you out with the afterbirth?’
Tim backed away, ‘Just don’t, huh?’ he said nervously, fear showing on his face.
Jesse Lee took the box from under his arm and pushed it into Tim’s chest, ‘Go fill it up. Now!’ The last word was shouted loud and the sound cracked through the silence of the saloon.
Tim backed away, then turned and went back behind the bar to where the rest of the cash was kept.
‘There you see that, Bolt?’ Jesse Lee called over his shoulder as he stepped aside. ‘I reckon he’s going for a sawn-off under the bar.’
Bolt calmly lowered the double-ought and pulled the trigger, the blast booming loud in the room and a flare of shot sent Tim flying.
Pandemonium broke out as the shot echoed around the room, women screamed and men ran for cover behind any furniture available. Jesse Lee pulled out his six-shooter and laughing, climbed up on the bar rail and leaning over the bar, he pumped a few more bullets into Tim’s body.
The swing doors flew inwards and Cecil Clemence staggered in, his mouth open wide and gasping for air. Blood ran down in a stream from his gaping lips spilling out and staining his beard. Bolt turned, frowning in query as Kirby, coming in behind the gunman, kicked out with his boot and butted Cecil forward so that he stumbled into Bolt. The two men collided and fell forward, separating as Cecil dropped to the ground and Bolt spun around crouching and going for his sidearm.
Kirby leveled his pistol and shot him in the mouth and the deputy gagged and forgot about his gun as he clutched at his throat.
Kirby swiveled around just as Jesse Lee lowered himself from where he was still stretched across the bar top. The gunman dropped to the floor and fired without hesitation, his bullet smashing into the double doors behind Kirby.
Bolt was blindly wandering, still standing upright and making gargling noise as he stumbled across the room between the two men. Jesse Lee fired again, his shot slamming into Bolt, who flew sideways at the impact and tumbled down next to Cecil’s body.
Kirby fired from the waist, he fanned the hammer and three bullets went winging towards Jesse Lee who took all of them in the upper body. The Sheriff staggered and hung back against the bar, looking down at the bleeding wounds in disbelief and trying to raise his pistol again. Kirby, his face set in stone, strode across the room until he stood before the gunman.
He raised his pistol and pointed it directly at Jesse Lee’s head. ‘Shouldn’t have called her that,’ he said before he pulled the trigger.
And that was it.
Whilst the smoke cleared, Kirby turned on his heel and left. As he made his way past where Belle stood, he nodded and tipped his hat going on out with no other show of emotion.
Ma Leatherbetter was down on her knees, kneeling over the remains of poor Tim, she clutched her hands to her breast and moa
ned pitifully, ‘You stupid boy, oh, you damned stupid boy.’
Belle stood there a moment, looking from the heap of bodies to Kirby’s fast disappearing back. She drew herself up and turning began giving orders to the gathered men.
‘Get that scum out of here and lay them in the gutter where they belong,’ she ordered. ‘And one of you go fetch the undertaker for Tim. You girls,’ she said to the gathered bar girls, who were clutching sorrowfully to each other. ‘Go get buckets and a mop; I want this blood here cleaned up. Now, step to it,’ she ordered sharply. ‘We’ve got a show to get underway here.’
Within minutes, Belle had taken swift command and only when things were underway did she move behind the bar and lay a soft hand on Ma’s shoulder. Tim was a mess, the blast of shot had caught him mid-section and it had ripped him apart, he lay on his back with the moneybox burst open and the body was covered by a fall the coin inside.
‘Oh, Ma, I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘Come on now. Undertaker’ll be here shortly; he’ll see that Tim’s treated right. You come along and sit down.
‘Give me a drink,’ husked the old lady. ‘And don’t stint on the pouring. I ain’t had a shot in twenty years but right now I need me some.’
‘You got it,’ said Belle, hoisting out a glass and quickly pouring a glassful.
Ma held the offered whiskey in both hands and swallowed half of it in one draught. ‘Hell,’ she said, smacking her lips. ‘But it don’t ease the pain none…’ her face crumpled and tears began to fall down her wrinkled cheek. ‘I know he was a fool but I loved him so,’ she said sorrowfully.
‘Sure you did,’ said Belle, wrapping the old lady in her arms. ‘Now you get up to your room I’ll take care of things here.’
‘Give me the bottle,’ Ma said, and taking it she stumbled out into the back and Belle heard her climbing the stairs. Belle jerked a chin at one of the bar girls, ‘Go watch over her,’ she said. ‘She need anything, you go get it.’
The girl nodded and hurried after the old woman.
Belle stepped to the door and saw that there were still curious folk waiting outside. She noted the terrified ticket girl was sitting in her place and staring wide-eyed at Belle.
‘Okay, boys,’ Belle said to the crowd. ‘The show goes on. We’ve had a shooting and just clearing the place up. We’ll be with you shortly and everything will be as normal. The show goes on, fellows. So if you can hold your water for a spell, it’ll be as good as ever. Can you do that for me?’
In one fell swoop, Belle had taken over as if she had held the reins all along. It was only afterwards that Belle realized how easily it had come to her. Her mind calculated the odds and knew that she could manage the running of the place. The-Get-Up-and-Go would stay open, at least if she had anything to do with it.
Chapter Six
Perversely for Joe Bellows, things started to go wrong for him from then on.
As Belle’s star rose and The-Get-Up-and-Go returned to popularity, his declined. Without Jesse Lee to back him, the town committee turned against him and his fellow saloonkeepers subsequently marginalized him. The alcoholic Bible-punching preacher, Reverend Emess Totter, was caught inflagranti with an underage girl and the drunken man was beaten to within an inch of his life by the girl’s father and when recovered, he fled the town never to be seen again. No more was said of any church building.
As his saloon emptied of custom, Bellows fumed. But he was a persistent man and not prone to giving up on his scheming ways. The defeat only deepened his desire to see Belle and the saloon she was running most ably brought down.
He sent out feelers to discover just who this Kirby Langstrom was. Why an outsider should interfere in the business seemed strange to him unless the man had a vested interest. The fellow appeared to have no steady job or place of residence, he vanished from the town for long periods of time and when he appeared he slept out in the open, usually occupying a bench on the sidewalk or a stall in the livery stables.
There was no doubt that Langstrom was a gunfighter of superior quality. If he could outshoot two known hard men and bring down Jesse Lee into the bargain he must be most capable and there had to be record of such a man somewhere.
Belle meantime blossomed. She ran the saloon with a newfound stern resolve and barely had time to think about the events that had brought her to the position.
After Tim Leatherbetter was respectfully laid out in Boot Hill, Ma and Belle sat down to plan what to do with the bar they had inherited. Ma saw that Belle was fulfilling her role capably and asked her to continue in managing The-Get-Up-and-Go and Belle decided that there would be little change in the way things were done. Tim’s legacy had been a well-run bar with unique entertainment and despite her earlier qualms; Belle had hardened her outlook and permitted the successful routine to continue. She was becoming a tough and wealthy businesswoman and it was reflected in the way that the townsfolk treated her. Hats were raised as she passed on the boardwalk and polite greetings offered. There were not so many blatant attempts or suggestions of a crude sexual nature offered. Gradually Belle reached a status that demanded and received respect.
If she wondered at all about Kirby during this busy time. It was with a flash of curiosity as to why he would risk his life in her favor. She supposed that the man had a crush on her and this secret love was the source of his desire to help out for she could see no other reason. Kirby had never approached with any interest in the business side and appeared to have no ulterior motive in his support. It was strange but Belle let it slide and it was soon forgotten as she ordered herself newly imported dresses from France and England and found an Italian shoemaker to fashion elegant footwear for her. Her hair was seen to regularly by Ma and with her growth in status; Belle soon appeared twice the creature of feminine majesty she had looked before.
Her beauty outshone all others on the streets of Variable Breaks and many suitors were soon knocking on her door. She avoided their advances, as none in her mind could fill the hole left in her heart by the passing of Aloysius Barrett Browning. He had become in her mind a paradigm of masculinity and none could compare with him. Of Kirby she thought little more than her earlier estimation, a nice enough fellow, easy going and capable in action but no more than a simple cowhand who had fallen for her, as so many others had done before.
Belle spent her usual mornings at the account books and it was whilst she was thus occupied that Kirby appeared before her again.
She sat in a small office she had engineered for herself in back of the storeroom and the first indication she had of his presence was when she looked up from her books and saw him leaning against the doorpost.
‘Morning, ma’am,’ he said, tilting his hat brim back with a finger.
‘Kirby Langstrom!’ she said in pleased surprise, getting up from her desk and greeting him with a broad smile. ‘Why, come you in.’
She went across to him and took his hand in both of hers, ‘We have so much to thank you for.’
His eyes met hers and Kirby saw the well of gratitude there, he was disappointed there was nothing more but pushed the thought aside brusquely.
‘You’re looking well, Belle,’ he said.
‘Where have you been? I haven’t seen you at all since that dreadful day.’
‘Here and there,’ he answered evasively. ‘Had some business to take care of down on the border.’
‘More cattle, huh?’ she asked with half an interest.
‘Something like that.’
‘So,’ she said, leaning back against the edge of her desk and resting on spread hands. ‘What can I do for you? You know you’ll always be welcome here. Anything? You need a job or something? In fact we could do with someone to watch over the place, and given your abilities….’
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It’s okay, I’m taken care of. I just come to give you word.’
‘About what?’
‘Joe Bellows has been busy.’
A light flared in Belle’s eyes at mention
of the name. She held the saloonkeeper to book for Tim’s death and he was marked in her mind as an aggravation that some day would feel the full force of her retribution.
‘What has that ass been up to now?’
‘He’s put out a call for the Lemon brothers and they’re on their way. Bolt had two brothers, an unsavory pair called Cain and Malachi. They’re both big old boys like Bolt was and probably twice as mean into the bargain. I reckon Bellows will have got them all riled up to bring down some hell and damnation on you.’
Belle twisted her head in disgust, ‘He is a thorn in my side, that man. I do not know why he persists so.’
‘You’re taking his business away,’ advised Kirby. ‘And I guess right from the start he had his mind set on running this town and nothing’s gone right for him since you folks come along.’
Belle folded her arms and pouted thoughtfully, ‘He’s certainly been a source of trouble since we first got here. I wish I could find a way to stop him.’
‘You want me to go see him?’
She looked up at him and Kirby saw those amazing blue eyes take him in speculatively. She tilted her head questioningly, ‘What exactly do you mean?’
‘The man’s running on empty now. He don’t have no support from the council, his best shooters are gone and his trade is fast going down the sink. Bellow’s is desperate. It may get messy before he’s done. Maybe I should have a word.’
She paused a moment, ‘You don’t mean…. To shoot him down?’
‘No, not that he don’t deserve it. I just mean a quiet word, you know, kind of warn him off a mite.’
Belle cupped her chin as she thought it through. ‘Well, we’d certainly be obliged but I can’t really expect you to take on more than you have already. You’ve got no call, its not really your affair and grateful as I am, it wouldn’t be right to involve you more.’
