Hard Edged (A Tony Masero Western)

by Tony Masero

  Smoke washed over the space between us, a thin veil of white that drifted towards the staring faces fixed on me.

  ‘That was for Gonzalez,’ I said. ‘All of you have your dockets marked. Each and every one of you, if I were you I’d leave now. Go get away as far as possible, that would be my advice.’

  ‘Aw! Come on, Smoke,’ said the po-faced Bennie. ‘We’re all in this together, there’s no need.’

  ‘Not any more, fella,’ I said. ‘No sir, I don’t associate with any of you deadbeats. You boys better ride, I see you again and you’ll be meeting up with Lowell real soon.’

  The bearded Buster growled and twitched his big shoulders menacingly.

  ‘Please, do it,’ I said, rotating the smoking gun in his direction. The big man frowned and settled back down again.

  ‘Now, all of you, toss your guns away behind you. And you, Matlock, do the same with that knife of yours.’

  They did as I ordered and the hardware clattered onto the boards. I felt behind me for the door handle.

  ‘Best take my advice, boys.’

  Quickly I opened the door and backed out, slamming it shut behind me and hurrying across the bar room and out.

  ~*~

  As I rode back to Kennedy’s I went over the options.

  It was war; there was no doubt of that.

  A war over what exactly? Power? Position? Possessions?

  And despite all the variations and possibilities it seemed there was only one culprit behind it all. But I couldn’t be sure; in fact I could hardly believe it. The motive seemed so shallow but then greed was a compulsive sickness.

  Could it really be Ace?

  It was hard to fathom how a bosom friend could become so ruined by the desire for more, so that he could turn against all we had together in the past.

  I remembered the first outing that committed us to the outlaw path. Not the thieving and small time vandalism, no, I mean the first serious adventure.

  We must have been no more than nineteen, the three of us, and we were making our way with the ponies we rustled. I guess we were getting a little too successful as the neighborhood bandit; a fellow called Justin Boone called on us.

  Justin was the very devil of a fellow, he ran a small gang of no-goods and thought pretty highly of himself. A big man, wide all the way down to his worked Mexican leather boots. He wore his pants shoved down inside the tops so that everyone could see the fancy leatherwork. Bright red they were and I knew he had them waxed and polished daily by the Negro slave he kept with him.

  A flamboyant man, with a dandy mustache and a broad brimmed sombrero that he would flourish in an extravagant bow whenever a lady passed him by. He made his loot by running a few whores and by pressurizing the locals to pay up or suffer the consequences but he did it with some kind of style and folks put up with it and accepted the outcome as if it were a regular part of life.

  He pressed us for a cut. Ten percent, he wanted of whatever we made. He would put some work our way, he promised but we had to recognize that he was the trotting turkey around here and pay him due reverence.

  Such a pompous ass, he spoke to us as if we were children and our only choice was to accept this beneficent offer of his.

  Ace railed at the prospect, of course. Kennedy pondered it in silence and I planned.

  It was obvious that there was a ready income waiting if Justin were to take a long holiday. The local traders and smaller ranchers made hardly a single bitch about having to pay up the protection money, they saw it as a kind of insurance and if trouble came their way would rather have Justin handle things than confront the problem themselves directly. The bigger spreads he stayed away from as they could take care of themselves and he didn’t want to tangle with them.

  The law was nonexistent around there in them days. It was a dream that existed only in the bigger towns or over in the military forts and people were practical, if they had a ready source for keeping order it was the same as paying a lawman anyway. They didn’t give a damn who it was as long as the party in question didn’t trouble them beyond a monthly stipend. And Justin was smart in that respect, I had to give him that. He never overdid it and appeared to be your avuncular old boy who’d ask after your wife and kids and only cut up rough if he didn’t get his cash.

  I laid this out to the others and they were behind the notion. It was a darned sight easier than running around getting hot and dusty across the range as we stole some poor suckers remuda.

  So, we planned it out. It was going to have to be final, as Justin wouldn’t go easily, there was too much at stake as far as he was concerned; it was his livelihood after all.

  He had himself a regular whore he fancied and he kept out on the post road outside of town. She was shacked up in a tin-pot shed that he allowed her to have as long as she was available for his visits. A big woman, as wide as he was and obviously a match to his every demand. Momma Delight they called her, although personally, I’d rather have been set on by a polecat with palsy than face that particular princess of the night. She was big in the thigh and being so big she tended to get around slowly and pant as she did it. Paint was a favorite disguise and she layered it on next to this strong perfume that told of her coming from a mile distant. But Justin loved it and maybe he loved her too, who am I to say? Each to his own.

  Anyway, that’s where we planned to do it.

  Not that it worked out quite as planned but we were pretty amateur in them days.

  It was hot that day and we heard that Justin was intending to take his leisure in the afternoon, resting up before he made his evening visits around town. Along one side of the track ran a small creek amongst a stand of cottonwoods and at the road edge itself were bunches of scattered mesquite that kept the creek bed invisible from the road so we hid out in the cottonwoods until we saw his highness approaching.

  When he did arrive he came in a one-horse carriage driven by that skinny Negro he always had with him. Momma Delight was waiting for him on the doorstep. She was clad in some black negligee made of lace and silk covered with ribbons and bows and she looked right out of place in the heat and dust as she struck, what she thought of anyway, as a provocative pose.

  ‘Howdy, big man,’ we heard her drawl.

  ‘Sweet cakes,’ he leered in greeting.

  So out we came, as casual as riders taking the afternoon easy.

  ‘Why! Lookee here,’ says Ace. ‘If it ain’t Mister Boone. How are you, sir?’

  Justin was just being helped down by his Negro as we drew up and looked around at us, his initial suspicion overtaken by a greedy little smile.

  ‘Hello, boys,’ he said. ‘You thought about my offer?’

  ‘Well, we thought about a percentage alright,’ says I.

  At that we all drew our pistols.

  ‘And we thought we’d make our deposit in lead.’

  Justin frowned and backed away. ‘Now you hold on,’ he growled. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

  Ace didn’t wait any longer; he hauled off a shot that slapped a hole in Justin’s cheek. It must have blown half his teeth out, as he didn’t say much after that. Kennedy and I followed off with a regular tirade of shooting but the old bandit skipped around with amazing dexterity. He was ducking and diving away from us behind the carriage so that most of our bullets went wild and just plain missed him.

  Momma Delight screamed and did something we didn’t expect, she reached inside the doorway and pulled out a double barrel. Then instead of pointing it at us, she loosed off both barrels at Justin where he was hiding behind the carriage and just shredded the poor bastard, wasting him instantly.

  The Negro fellow stood boggle-eyed for a second then reached in the carriage and pulled out a hog-leg. I mean a pistol so big that it weighed him down; poor fellow could hardly lift the damned thing. He was busy trying to pull the hammer back with both thumbs when Ace, laughing like a loon, pointed his gun at him.

  ‘You want your freedom, boy?’ he asked. ‘It can be arranged.’<
br />
  Momma Delight was cursing on Justin, kicking at him and prodding him with her shotgun.

  ‘You asshole!’ she hollered. ‘I had more than enough of your lying puerile ways, you can go the hell and take all your pissant bad behavior with you.’

  The Negro took one look at Ace, and then dropped the pistol as if it were hot and began running off down the road. I never seen a skinny little fellow skedaddle so, it was like watching a roadrunner go he moved so fast.

  Ace could do nothing but laugh, watching that old boy hop and skip out of sight and leaving no more than a trail of dust behind him.

  ‘Boys,’ said Momma Delight, coming over to us. ‘You done me a real favor. That old has-been been promising me marriage for three years now, then I find out he’s busy pumping some young sweet pea over in Cover City and don’t have no intention of making an honest woman out of me.’

  She beamed at us in a maternal fashion. ‘I was going to give him a blaster today anyway, so we’re all agreed on the outcome. Now, you boys feel like a freebie I’ll be glad to accommodate each and every one of you this very minute.’

  ‘What about that Negro?’ asked Kennedy.

  ‘Lord!’ she bellowed a laugh. ‘He won’t stop running ‘til he reaches the Red River.’

  As it turned out none of us took her up on her offer but we did all join her in some of Justin’s fine whiskey that she had inside her shack. Momma Delight got herself a little drunk and we spent the afternoon singing and joking around. In fact the lady had a fine singing voice and it weren’t no hardship to listen to her regale us with liquor and song until the sun went down. Then we intended to go back to town happy as songbirds and start collecting what old Justin Boone left as his legacy.

  The man himself lay outside in the road whilst we had a fine old time inside the shack and when it came time to leave Ace stole the dead man’s boots. I reckon he took a shine to those fine leather red boots although he wore them for only a week and then complained that they pinched him they were so small. Seems like Justin was big everywhere except in the feet.

  You’ve got to wonder though, don’t you? Fella’s just worked his way into a money-making setup at the price of a man’s life and he even has to take the shoes off the feet of the fellow he’s done down.

  Anyway to prove the point of this story, Ace fitted into that category of gent that finds his eyes are bigger than his belly.

  I feared the same was true now.

  Chapter Six

  I asked Kennedy to set up a meeting with Ace.

  I wanted to see him face to face and find out if it was in fact him who was behind this stupidity.

  We met in the Golden Slipper and Ace was obviously in one of his bumptious moods, ordering people around and taking over the place as if he owned it. Maybe he did in fact own it, I didn’t know that and neither did Kennedy.

  There was no sign of the four remaining members of the party that had killed Gonzalez and for that I was grateful. It seemed they had taken my advice and left town, although word came down that the Irishman had not fared well on their departure. His bullet-riddled body had turned up in a drainage ditch on the road out of town and someone had cut out his tongue. It seems that Tommy had waggled that little appendage once too often.

  ‘So, partner,’ said Ace, placing both feet up on the table between us and leaning back in his chair. ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘You heard about Gonzalez?’ I said, taking the seat opposite.

  ‘I did,’ he said, leaning over without lowering his boots and pouring two glasses from the bottle in front of him. I could see it was half empty already. ‘Damned poor shame,’ he went on, sliding the glass across to me with a boot heel. ‘Was nothing to do with me, if that’s what you’re asking. Those fools acted on their own, I guess Gonzalez got up their noses about something. Still, the way I hear it, you made Lowell pay in full measure.’

  ‘I sure did and I’ll do the same I see the rest of those bums again.’

  Ace lowered his feet and leaned forward across the table. ‘Come on, Smoke,’ he said. ‘Don’t take on so. You know what its like when a party gets too much booze under its belt, they go a little crazy is all. Those fellows been sitting around too long with nothing to do. That’s the trouble with getting this whole county sewn up, they need to let off steam and it happens.’

  ‘They cut off his head, Ace.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ he waved a dismissive hand. ‘It was bad and I don’t mean to condone it but we ain’t dealing with regular law-abiding citizens here. You know these are rough old boys, they get carried away sometimes.’

  ‘So now we start killing our own?’ I said in disgust.

  Ace shook his head, ‘Look, they’ve already lit out and I’ll see they get chastised they come back don’t you worry. You’re right we can’t have this sort of thing, its bad for morale if nothing else.’

  ‘What is it you want, Ace?’

  Ace sipped his whiskey, ‘Me?’ he said, his face rounding with curious innocence. ‘Nothing, we got everything we wanted, ain’t we? What else is there?’

  I shook my head, ‘I don’t know, Ace. I really don’t.’

  ‘Hell, Smoke! You is just upset from those four slugs you took. Man, you are getting mighty sensitive. I know its painful you lose a man like Gonzalez but these sort of things happen the business we’re in.’

  ‘Tell that to Lowell.’

  Ace sniggered and then gave a raucous laugh, ‘Judas Priest! That was one hell of a thing, you going in alone against the whole parcel of them and plastering Lowell all over the wall. I guess you ain’t lost it yet, partner. I near wet myself when I heard about that.’

  ‘Oh, I ain’t done yet, Ace,’ I said with a warning tone.

  ‘No,’ he nodded in an openly admiring way. ‘You sure ain’t and I’m glad to see it. I was worried there a while, I have to admit it. Afraid you was going soft and all, what with all this legitimate business you’re into. But the old Smoke is still there blowing steam and making fire. It’s damned good to see, buddy.’

  ‘I want it straight, Ace. Straight from your mouth,’ I leaned intently across the table, putting the bottle in front to one side. ‘You ain’t after me are you?’

  His face worked into a deep frown, ‘No, goddammit! What gave you that idea? We been together since we was kids, why would I do that? We’s just going our separate ways is all. Hellfire! Smoke, we got too much history for you to even think such a thing.’

  I was not totally convinced but seeing the look of the honesty in his eyes made me doubt my suspicions. Ace was never the sharpest knife in the drawer and it would take something for him to pull the wool over my eyes so I had to have my doubts

  ‘Then who the hell is behind all this?’ I asked.

  Ace blew through his nose and poured himself another one, ‘Beats the hell out of me. I can’t find hair nor hide. There ain’t a trace, Smoke. Whoever it is keeps a real low profile. I’ve had riders all over this country looking to find strangers or some hint of underhand play but there’s nothing, at least nothing around here. It has to be out of county, maybe from across the border.’

  ‘Who, for instance?’

  ‘The only one I can think of is that old Mex we used to sell ponies too. You remember, Carlos Isquito. I hear he’s risen up the scale now by all accounts. Runs his own gang both sides of the divide and pisses off the Rangers right well. His boys hit and run, making it over the Rio Grande every time the Rangers think they’ve got them cornered. Old Carlos has the military in his pocket down there so the Rangers would be taking one hell of a risk if they crossed over with the way things are with the Mexican authorities.’

  ‘You think Carlos would want to make a play for my setup all the way up here? I doubt that.’

  ‘I ain’t saying it’s him exactly but he might well be behind it. You know, he never did like you too well, not after you held him to task over that posse of horse soldier ponies that time.’

  ‘Bastard was set on cheating
us,’ I said in my own self-defense.

  ‘I know it,’ Ace agreed. ‘But it doesn’t mean he’s going to want to kiss and cuddle, does it? I mean, you did break his nose, that time, remember?’

  ‘Sure, but it was settled. Besides that was years ago.’

  Ace rubbed a finger up alongside his nose and looked at me archly, ‘Some of those old-style Mexicans never forget, you know that.’

  I thought it over. ‘It’s possible, I guess.’

  ‘Well, look, partner, I got to go,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘We straight on this?’

  ‘Sure, Ace,’ I said, taking his offered hand.

  ‘I got your back,’ he promised. ‘You should know that.’

  ~*~

  I was fearful for Annie May and Mouse. I wanted them out of harm’s way and safe but when it came to broaching the subject Annie May was obstreperous and difficult.

  ‘I don’t want to go away,’ she complained.

  ‘It makes sense, Annie May.’

  ‘Why? You’re legitimate now and acting as a regular businessman, why should we be so afraid?’

  ‘Whoever it is will not take that into account, honey,’ I tried to be tactful not wanting to upset her more. The trouble was that Annie May had no real idea of the world in which I had moved, to her it was a distant story of six-guns popping and devil-may-care masked cowboys riding in on rearing ponies. Much like the show I had made when we first met at the stage holdup. I think that Consuela’s report of Gonzalez’s death had probably been the first time she had come up against the real thing in a close and personal way. But that was still secondhand and there is nothing like real experience to bring an event home to anybody.

  At times like these I realized I had protected her too much but like all selfish men I had wanted to come home to a separate life than that which I occupied most of the time. I had wanted a home and the soft joy of my family. It was all a warm illusion, of course, but it made the rest of it possible.