“Hush,” Chancy said.
“I don’t have a lot, but if you’ll follow me,” Welker said, and let them around to a glass case.
In it were pocket watches and pipes and a money clip, and on the bottom shelf, a few rings and a bracelet and a couple of necklaces.
“Not much to choose from,” Ollie remarked.
“You’re a grouser, aren’t you?” Welker said.
“Well, there isn’t,” Ollie said.
Chancy frowned. Everything in the case looked used. Some of the pocket watches had scratches; the stem of a pipe was chipped, the bowl of another dark from all the tobacco used. The rings didn’t have much appeal, and the bracelet was large enough to fit around a horse’s leg. One necklace, though, had a shiny if thin chain, with a tiny silver heart. “That one might do.”
Welker opened the case and brought it out, handling it roughly, as if he didn’t care if it broke.
“How much?” Chancy asked as he examined the links and the heart. They were in good shape.
“Four bits,” Welker said.
“That’s all?” Chancy figured it would be more.
“I’m being generous. Or are you a grouser like your friend?”
“Four bits, it is.”
Chancy paid and carefully slid the necklace into his pocket. He imagined Missy’s face lighting up when he gave it to her, and went out walking on air. “That was a steal.”
“I didn’t like him,” Ollie said. “He was rude. Calling us grousers.”
“Some folks provoke too easy,” Chancy said.
“And some keep secrets from their pards.”
“Do you mean me?”
“None other,” Ollie said, sounding hurt.
“When have I ever kept a secret from you?”
“I never knew you had a sweetheart somewhere. Who are you sending that necklace to?”
Chancy laughed and pointed at the saloon.
“Why are you . . . ?” Ollie stopped, and then he laughed too. “Oh. I should have guessed. Every now and then I can be dumb.”
“Can’t we all?” Chancy said.
Chapter 22
Chancy supposed he should pay a visit to Laverne Dodger, although he’d rather cross the street to the saloon and see if Missy was there. First, though, he would follow orders. He bent his boots to the cabin where Finger had been placed, entered without knocking, and drew up short in consternation.
The room was filled to overflowing. The mayor was there. So were Ives and three other townsmen. The mayor seemed as surprised to see Chancy and Ollie as Chancy was to see all of them.
“What’s this?” Ollie said.
“Mr. Gantry. Mr. Teal. We weren’t expecting you,” Mayor Broom exclaimed. Smiling, he came over, his hand extended. “How are you? If you don’t mind my saying, Mr. Gantry, you look a little worse for wear after that fracas last night.”
“I came in looking for Dodger,” Chancy said. “And to see how Finger is doing for our trail boss.”
“Mr. Howard is coming along quite nicely,” Mayor Broom said. “Dodger was by earlier. Your friend’s fever is down and the swelling is gone. Dodger expects Mr. Howard to make a full recovery barring any unforeseen complications.”
“Any what?” Ollie said.
“We should go,” a man by the bed said.
The speaker wasn’t dressed like a townsman. He wore a wide-brimmed black hat similar to Ives’s, but his shirt was blue and his pants were checkered. High on his right hip was a Starr revolver, tilted slightly back. The Starr models had seen a lot of use during the Civil War but since then had lost ground in popularity to Colts, Remingtons, and Smith & Wessons.
“Yes, we should,” Mayor Broom said.
“Who’s he?” Ollie asked.
“The handle is Krine, cowboy,” the man said. “Artemis Krine.” He was handsomer than most and carried himself as if he was aware of the fact. “You’d do well to remember it.”
“Why should I bother?” Ollie said.
Krine smiled. “Let’s go,” he said, and walked past them out the door.
Chancy didn’t know what to make of it when Ives and the others followed him as meekly as could be. “That hombre tells you what to do and you do it?”
“Mr. Krine is the founder of our fair town,” Mayor Broom revealed. “He doesn’t hold an official position as I do, but he nonetheless has considerable sway over how things are done.”
“He has sway over Ives too?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Mayor Broom said, then grinned. “Ah. You don’t understand why Ives would let someone tell him what to do, given his proficiency with pistols?”
“Something like that,” Chancy said.
“Three reasons. First, because Mr. Krine, as I’ve indicated, is the brains behind Prosperity. Everything you see here was his idea. Second, Mr. Krine and Ives are friends, and more than friends. In your parlance they might be termed pards.”
“Chancy is my pard,” Ollie said.
“How wonderful for you,” the mayor said.
“What’s the third reason?” Chancy asked.
“Oh.” Broom moved to the door and paused in the doorway to grin at them. “The third reason is that Mr. Krine is as fast as Ives, if not faster. Were they to go up against each other, not that they ever would, I wouldn’t presume to wager on the outcome.”
“Goodness,” Ollie said. “How many gun hands do you have in this little town of yours anyhow?”
“Our fair share, I suppose.” Broom touched the brim of his bowler and departed humming to himself.
“What’s a fair share of gun hands?” Ollie said.
“Forget them,” Chancy said. He went to the bed and placed his palm against Finger’s forehead. It was cool to the touch. Lifting the blanket, he inspected the wound. It too was as the mayor claimed. The swelling was down and the flesh around the stitching wasn’t as red.
“Should we wake him?” Ollie whispered.
“I am awake,” Finger Howard said.
Startled, Chancy dropped the blanket and took half a step back. “Consarn you, Finger.”
“You spooked my pard good,” Ollie said, and laughed.
Finger’s eyes were open, but his eyelids were fluttering. His throat bobbed and he licked his lips and got out, “Feel woozy. They gave me something.”
“Medicine,” Ollie said. “You need it. They had to operate. Your worm-thing was set to burst.”
“No,” Finger said, licking his lips some more. He feebly raised his hand and tried to clutch at Chancy. “Listen . . .” Gasping, he got no further.
“Are you in pain?” Chancy said, moving closer. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s them,” Finger said, so softly they barely heard him.
“Them who?” Ollie said.
“Them,” Finger said again. His eyes opened and he suddenly gripped Chancy by the wrist. “I heard what they said.”
“What?” Chancy said in confusion.
“That mayor and those others. They were talking about another herd. Saying strange things.”
“There’s that word again,” Ollie said.
Chancy motioned for him to keep quiet. “Strange how?”
“The store,” Finger said. His eyelids were fluttering again, and his hold on Chancy’s wrist weakened.
“The general store? What about it?”
“Look there,” Finger said. “You’ll find . . .” He tried to go on, but his body slumped and he exhaled and went limp.
“Is he all right?” Ollie asked in alarm.
“How do I know? I’m no doc.” Chancy felt for a pulse, which was good and strong, and checked again that the fever was down. “He seems to be, but we’d better fetch Laverne Dodger.”
“What was that business about the general store?”
; “Beats me,” Chancy said. “He wasn’t talking sense. Must be whatever they’re giving him.”
“I’m glad they’re not giving me any,” Ollie said.
Chapter 23
The stable was as quiet as an empty church. Chancy hollered but received no reply. Entering, he stopped. Hardly any sunlight penetrated, and he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Beside him Ollie sniffed a few times. “I’ve always liked the smell of a stable. The horses and the straw and the manure.”
“You like the smell of manure?”
“When it’s fresh.”
“And you say this town is strange?” Chancy joshed. He went a little farther and called out, “Dodger? You in here? It’s Chancy and Ollie. We’d like to talk to you about our friend Finger.”
“And check my pard while you’re at it,” Ollie yelled. “That Reid fella beat on him pretty awful.”
In the shadows, something stirred. Someone mumbled, and out of a stall hobbled Laverne Dodger, a half-empty whiskey bottle in his hand. “You two shouldn’t be here,” he said, slurring his words.
“Didn’t you hear us?” Ollie said. “We need you.”
“I heard you. But you really shouldn’t be here.” Dodger halted and took a swig, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I like you boys. You’ve treated me decent.”
“How else would we treat you?” Ollie said. “My ma always said to treat folks like they were pies.”
“Pies?” Dodger said.
Ollie nodded. “Everybody like pies, don’t they? So you treat folks like something you like.”
“You’re surely something,” Dodger said, and chuckled.
“I don’t think I’d be here if I was nothing,” Ollie said.
“What’s this about your friend?” Dodger asked.
“He woke up for a bit,” Chancy replied. “Sounded like he was raving.”
“It’s the mayor’s fault he woke up,” Ollie said. “Him and all those others being there. Their talking probably did it.”
“Broom was in the cabin?”
Ollie nodded. “With Ives and somebody called Krine and some others. You’d think they’d never seen a sick fella before.”
“Damn,” Laverne Dodger said.
“What?” Chancy said.
“Let’s go take a look at him.” Dodger moved quickly for a man with a peg leg. He did more mumbling, and swore.
“What’s the matter?” Chancy asked. “Are you upset that they woke Finger?”
“It might be sooner than I thought,” Dodger said. “I figured they’d wait until tonight or even tomorrow.”
“Who would wait for what?” Ollie said.
“Who else?” Dodger said.
Ollie nudged Chancy and pointed at Dodger’s whiskey bottle and waggled his fingers to show he thought the stableman was drunk.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Chancy asked. “You can’t examine him right if you’re in your cups.”
“Hell,” Dodger said. “It takes two bottles for that. This little bit”—he shook the one he held—“is breakfast.”
Laverne Dodger’s peg made a lot of noise on the cabin floor, but Finger Howard stayed out to the world. Dodger checked Finger’s pulse and his temperature and opened each eyelid and studied each pupil, then grunted and sat on the edge of the bed. “He’s all right.”
“They said they gave him something,” Chancy said. “What was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not?” Ollie said. “You’re the doctor, not them.”
Dodger picked his bottle up from the floor where he had placed it and took a long swallow. He glanced at the door and then from Chancy to Ollie and back again. “I meant what I said about liking you gents.”
“And I meant what I said about pies,” Ollie said.
Dodger lowered his voice. “Which is why I’m going to do something I shouldn’t. I’m going to give you some advice.”
“If it’s about baths I already know it,” Ollie said.
“Baths?”
“My ma told me that if a man takes too many, he gets sickly. It’s not good to take more than one bath a month. You being a doctor, or almost a doctor, I figured you’d know that too.”
“How do you shut him up?” Dodger said to Chancy.
“You don’t.”
“Listen,” Dodger said. “Ride back to your camp and tell your trail boss to get the hell out of here. Drive those cattle of yours back to the main trail as fast as you can.”
“We’re not leaving until tomorrow,” Ollie said.
“Tomorrow will be too late.”
“For what?” Chancy said.
“Mr. Stout is letting the cattle rest up another day,” Ollie said. “All that graze and the water is good for them.”
“The grass and the lake are the lures,” Dodger said. “It’s what brings the herds in and keeps them here long enough.”
“For what?” Chancy said again.
“I can’t say any more. If I did . . .” Dodger looked toward the front door and sat bolt upright.
A shadow filled the doorway. A moment more, and in came the man called Krine, with Mayor Broom and Ives behind him. “We saw you come in,” Krine said, “and wondered how the cowboy is doing.”
“No change from earlier. He’s doing fine,” Dodger said.
“That’s good to hear,” Mayor Broom said. To Chancy and Ollie he added, “You boys should come to the saloon and have a few drinks. It just opened.”
“I was heading there anyway,” Chancy said. His date with Missy was uppermost on his mind.
“Yes, go,” Laverne Dodger said. “All of you. My patient needs rest. The operation took a lot out of him.”
Ollie went to say something, but Chancy gestured for him not to. They ambled out, and once in the street Ollie whispered, “Why’d you stop me? I was about to ask about that lure business.”
“I don’t think Dodger wanted the mayor to know he told us,” Chancy said.
“What do you make of it?” Ollie said. “I’m plumb stumped.”
“I don’t know,” Chancy admitted. “Maybe it was the whiskey talking.”
“Should we ride out and tell Lucas Stout?”
“It can wait until after my date,” Chancy said. He wasn’t about to let anything interfere with that.
“I suppose,” Ollie said. “But between you and me, pard, this place just gets stranger and stranger.”
Chapter 24
Missy Burke was as beautiful as Chancy remembered. She had on a bright blue dress that he suspected she saved for special occasions. It was nothing like the dress she wore when she worked. It wasn’t as tight and didn’t show any of her cleavage. In fact, it was the sort any woman would wear when she was out and about. Yet on her it looked magnificent. It matched her radiant smile. “You came.”
“Nothing could have kept me away,” Chancy said. He’d swatted the dust from his clothes and hat and spiffed the toes of his boots and slicked his hair the best he could with spit. “Did you reckon I wouldn’t?”
“A girl never knows with men,” Missy said. She nodded at Ollie. “How do you do, Mr. Teal? You’re very quiet today.”
“How do you do, ma’am?” Ollie replied. “I’m sorry for the quiet. My pard told me I’m to shush around you so he can get in a word edgewise.”
Missy grinned. “You didn’t?”
“I did,” Chancy confessed.
“Ollie, you can talk around me all you want,” Missy said. “I find you positively adorable.”
“That’s kind of you, ma’am,” Ollie said. “My aunt used to call me that. She also told me I was the reason she never had any kids of her own. She was a great teaser.”
The last thing Chancy wanted was for Ollie to monopolize the conversation.
“I was thinking that you and me could go for a stroll,” he proposed. “Up and down the street. Just the two of us,” he mentioned pointedly.
“I’d like to but I don’t know if I should,” Missy said. “Reid has this rule about getting too personal with the customers.”
“Where is he anyhow?” Ollie asked.
“At his cabin,” Missy said. She put her hand on Chancy’s arm. “His face is all black and blue and swollen, thanks to you. I don’t think he wants to be seen in public. But if we take a stroll he might spot us out his window, and come out and give me grief. Maybe it’s best if we stay here. Is that all right?”
“Whatever you want.” Chancy would do anything to please her short of jumping off a cliff.
Missy indicated a corner table. The saloon was virtually empty at that time of day, and only one other table was occupied, by a man playing solitaire. “How about if we sit there and talk?”
“Just the two of us,” Chancy said to Ollie.
“You don’t have to beat me over the head with it,” Ollie said. “I can take a hint. I’ll go back to the general store. I saw some bandannas and I could use one. Mine has a hole in it.”
When the batwings closed behind him, Missy said, “You’re lucky to have him for a friend.”
“So everybody keeps saying.” Chancy realized he still had his hat on and quickly doffed it and stepped aside. “After you, ma’am.” He made sure to scoot around her so he could pull a chair out for her and made it a point to gently slide it under her as she sat. Taking a seat across from her, he placed his hat on the table.
“Here we are,” Missy said.
Chancy could hardly believe it. Just her and just him. “It’s like a dream,” he said before he could catch himself.
Missy’s lovely eyes narrowed quizzically. “You’re serious, aren’t you? It’s not a line you use.”
“Line?”
“Men use them all the time. To try to get close to a gal. To make the girl think she’s special so they can be free with their hands.”
Chancy colored and coughed. “I’d never.”
“I believe you,” Missy said, and after a bit she added softly, “Will wonders never cease?”
“All I know is I like being with you,” Chancy said, coming right out with it. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met. I couldn’t wait to see you again. And now that I’m here, I half want to pinch myself to make sure I’m awake.”
Ralph Compton Outlaw Town Page 9
