“I don’t believe this,” Reid said angrily. He shoved his Smith & Wesson into his holster so hard it was a wonder he didn’t tear the holster off.
Not trusting any of them, Chancy warily rose and held his hands in the air. He’d go along for now, but only for Missy’s sake.
“No need for that, boy,” Mayor Broom said. “You can lower your arms.”
“Why so reasonable?” Chancy said.
Krine answered with “You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s head for the saloon. And don’t try anything, boy.”
“Stop calling me that.”
Surrounded by outlaws, Chancy was ushered out. He was tempted to try to grab a six-shooter, but he’d be dead before he got off a shot. There were too many of them and they watched him like hawks.
In the east a glimmer was slowly brightening the horizon. The sun would be up in less than an hour. The town lay quiet. To the west, the longhorns had yet to stir. Other outlaws were riding herd.
“Nice morning,” Mayor Broom remarked.
Chancy couldn’t think of a worse one. He was their captive, completely at their mercy. So far, Krine wanted him alive, but that could change at any minute.
In the saloon, an outlaw had fallen asleep slumped over a table. Another was nursing a drink at the bar.
Krine chose the table by the window. He picked a chair and shoved another out with his boot. “Sit there, boy.”
Not that Chancy had a choice. Simmons and Ackerman shoved him into it and held him down when he tried to rise.
“Don’t be dumb,” Krine said.
Without being told, Missy pulled out the chair next to Chancy’s. “Whatever you have to say to him, I want to hear.”
“You take a lot on yourself, girl,” Krine said. He rested his elbow on the table. “It’s like this. Those cowboys aren’t going to give up. They’ve lost men and we’ve lost men, but all they care about are the cattle. They’ll do anything to get those cows back. Unless I give them a good reason not to.”
“That’s where Chancy comes in?” Missy said uncertainly.
“My bargaining chip, yes. Because he’s going to tell you where to find them and you’re going to ride out and give them a message for me.” Krine cocked his head. “You can ride, can’t you?”
“I was raised on a farm. Every farm girl can ride.”
“Good. Then you’ll ride out and tell them that unless they tuck their tails and light a shuck, I’m going to hang your betrothed from a beam in the stable.”
“You wouldn’t!” Missy gasped.
“Oh, he most certainly would,” Mayor Broom said.
Missy was so upset that Chancy was compelled to say, “Don’t worry. I won’t betray my friends. You won’t have to deliver his message.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Krine said. He slowly drew his Starr revolver and just as slowly pointed it at Missy. “Either you tell me what I want to know or you’ll be marrying a corpse.”
“He’s bluffing,” Missy said.
Chancy knew better. But he still balked. “If I tell you where they are, you’ll send your men to wipe them out.”
“And lose more of my own?” Krine shook his head. “I’ve lost too many as it is. All I want is for your trail boss to admit he’s beaten and let us have the herd.”
“Lucas Stout hasn’t ever been beaten in his life,” Chancy said proudly.
“Say good-bye to your sweetheart, then.” Krine thumbed back the hammer on his revolver. “I’ll make it quick and shoot her between the eyes.”
Missy recoiled, her hand flying to her throat. “Please, no.”
“It’s not up to me, girl,” Krine said. “It’s your husband-to-be who doesn’t care whether you live or die.”
Chancy was in a quandary. His insides felt as if they were being torn apart. No matter what he did, people he cared for would die. The question was, who did he care for more? The answer was right beside him. He opened his mouth to tell Krine what he wanted to know and saw Krine look past him and stiffen. Not knowing what to expect, Chancy half turned. To say he was astonished was an understatement.
Ollie had just walked in.
Chapter 48
For all of five seconds the outlaws were transfixed with surprise.
Ollie smiled and called out, “Howdy, pard! I saw them bring you in and figured I’d come see if you’re all right.”
“Another cowboy!” an outlaw bawled.
Revolvers were jerked from holsters as over half the men in the saloon drew and pointed their weapons. Strangely Ives was one of those who didn’t. His thumbs hooked in his gun belt, as was his habit, he sauntered up to Ollie and looked him up and down.
“I remember you. The simpleton.”
“I remember you,” Ollie said. “The gun hand.”
Ives smiled thinly. “How about you and me step outside and go to it?”
“Go to what?” Ollie said.
Chancy was beside himself with fear. “Don’t!” he said. “He’s harmless.”
“I agree,” Ives said, “but I’m still going to gun him.”
Krine rose out of his chair and holstered his Starr. “Don’t be so hasty.” He beckoned to Ollie. “Join us, cowpoke. I believe you might come in handy. You can help me solve a problem I’m having with your pard.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Ollie said, and grinning, he started to go around Ives. His grin widened when the man in black plucked his six-shooter from his holster. “Gosh, you’re quick.”
Ives made as if to bash Ollie with the revolver but lowered it. “Do you know what I hate more than stupid?”
“Brussels sprouts?” Ollie said.
“What?”
“I hated them growing up,” Ollie said. “My pa liked them, so my ma was always cooking them, but I never could stand the taste. They’re too dang bitter. And you have to chew them forever before you can swallow, which only made it worse.”
Several outlaws laughed.
Ives smacked his left palm with Ollie’s pistol a couple of times, then said, “Turn sideways.”
“How’s that?” Ollie said.
Grabbing Ollie by the arm, Ives turned him partway around, then put his eye to Ollie’s ear.
“What are you doing?” Ollie asked in bewilderment.
“Looking to see if there’s anything in there.”
More laughter filled the saloon.
Chancy was relieved to his core when Ives shoved Ollie toward their table. He pushed a chair out. “Sit here, next to me.”
“Gladly,” Ollie said. Sinking down, he nodded at Mayor Broom and then at Krine. “Nice to see you again, gents.”
“Is this clod the real article?” Krine said to Broom.
“Real what?” Ollie asked.
The mayor chuckled. “I believe his last name is Teal. I met them when they rode in with their friend, the one Dodger operated on. And yes, Mr. Teal is the real article. He is, as they say, as innocent as a newborn babe. And also, as they say, slow in the head.”
“I’m no baby,” Ollie said, offended. “I’m a grown man.”
“You should be wearing a diaper, you half-wit,” Ives said. He had come up behind Ollie’s chair and looked fit to bean Ollie.
“I’ll handle this,” Krine said, and raised his voice. “Someone bring a glass for Mr. Teal. And a bottle of our best whiskey.”
“That’s awful nice of you,” Ollie said.
Chancy could hardly think, he was so worried. “Why aren’t you back at the outfit with Drew Case? What have you been doing?”
Ollie crossed his arms. “Shucks. I couldn’t run out on you. Last night when these owl-hoots started shooting and Drew lit out, I turned around and you weren’t there. I ran off a ways and fell into a little ditch, and hid there while they were looking for us. No one even came close, though. Wh
en things quieted down, I snuck between a couple of the buildings. That’s where I was when I saw them bring you to the saloon, and here I am.” Ollie beamed.
“What did I tell you?” Mayor Broom said to Krine.
“He’ll do perfect,” Krine said.
“You wouldn’t hurt a sweet soul like him, would you?” Missy asked in horror.
“I would,” Ives said.
“I decide who gets hurt and who doesn’t,” Krine said. “And the half-wit stays alive.”
The glass and bottle were brought. Krine personally filled the glass and slid it across to Ollie. “You must be thirsty after all that skulking about you did.”
“Is that what you call it?” Ollie said. “Back at home we call it sneaking.” He took a sip and sighed happily. “I’m obliged, mister. You’re a lot nicer than I figured you’d be.”
“How would you like to do something nice for me in return?”
“If I can,” Ollie said.
Krine sat back. “It’s like this, Mr. Teal. I asked your pard’s girl to deliver a message for me to your trail boss and he won’t let her.”
“He won’t?” Ollie looking questioningly at Chancy.
In a flash of insight, Chancy had an inkling of what Krine was about to do. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“You can see he hasn’t been harmed,” Krine said. “But that will change if I don’t get my way.”
“I don’t quite savvy,” Ollie said.
Krine spoke as if to a five-year-old. “I’ll spell it out for you. I want you to go to your trail boss and tell him the herd is now mine, and that every last one of you cowboys is to leave and never come back.”
“Oh,” Ollie said. “I don’t know as I can do that. Mr. Stout won’t like it much.”
“He might once he hears about your pard.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll have men on the rooftops, watching,” Krine said. “If they don’t see your outfit heading north by, say, noon, I’m going to let Ives use your pard as a target to practice his quick draw.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Chancy said.
“How can I not?” Ollie said.
“Will you deliver the message?” Krine said.
“No, he won’t,” Chancy said.
“I won’t let them shoot you,” Ollie said.
“You’re a good man, Mr. Teal,” Krine said. “Thanks to you, your pard will go on breathing.”
“I’d better go now, then,” Ollie said. “I need to let Mr. Stout know before the sun is up. He’s fixing to try to take the cattle back along about dawn.”
“You don’t say?”
“I just did,” Ollie said.
Krine chuckled. “Ives, you heard our new friend. Send some extra men to watch the herd. Mr. Teal, you can go ahead and leave right this minute.”
Ollie stood, then caught himself. “I don’t have a horse, so it will take a while. And I’d like my six-shooter back.”
Krine snapped his fingers. “Simmons, you’ll see he gets a horse from the stable. Ives, let him have his smoke wagon.” Smiling, he stood and came around the table and offered his hand to Ollie. “I wish you’d shown up sooner. You’re not nearly as stubborn as your friend.”
“Hold on,” Ollie said. “If Mr. Stout does as you want, will you let Chancy go?”
“You have my word,” Krine said. “Now go with Simmons there, and he’ll help you on your way.”
Chancy was powerless to prevent them from ushering Ollie out. At the batwings Ollie looked back.
“Don’t worry, pard. Everything will be fine.”
Mayor Broom smothered a laugh. As the batwings closed, he nudged Krine and said, “That was slick as anything.”
“Slicker than you think.” Krine turned to Ives. “Send two men to trail him. They’re not to let him spot them. That shouldn’t be hard, as witless as he is. Have them report back as soon as they find out where the rest of those damn cowboys are hiding.”
“And then we wipe them out?” Ives said.
“And then we do,” Krine said.
Chapter 49
Chancy Gantry slumped in his chair, appalled at the turn events had taken. Things had gone to hell and it was largely his fault. He shouldn’t have come into town with Drew Case. His hunger to see Missy had brought this on. His pard and the rest of the outfit might lose their lives on his account.
“Why so glum, cowboy?” Mayor Broom said. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”
“Not for long,” Ives said, and dropped his left hand to the revolver on his hip.
“No,” Krine said. “We might need him yet.”
“For what?” Ives asked skeptically.
“To hold over their heads if they don’t light a shuck.” Krine’s face hardened. “And since when do you question my decisions?”
“I was only wondering,” Ives said.
Chancy wondered what it was about Krine that he held such sway over killers like Ives and the others. The man must truly be lightning in a bottle. Or maybe it was just that he was one of those rare curly wolves others of the breed naturally feared.
Ira Reid had been quiet awhile, but now he jabbed a thumb at Missy Burke. “What about the girl?”
“Take her to her cabin and post a guard.”
Reid made a fist and smacked it into his other palm. “Want I should beat her first to teach her a lesson?”
Chancy poised to spring up. He would be damned if he’d let that happen.
“You’re not to lay a finger on her,” Krine said.
“Damn it,” Reid muttered.
“You’re worse than Ives,” Krine said. “Try to pay attention. We hold the cowboy here over his outfit’s heads to keep them in line. We hold her over his head to keep him in line. Savvy?”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Reid said grudgingly.
Krine looked at Broom and sighed. “Do you see what I have to put up with? Why can’t they all be as intelligent as you?”
“Some are born with brains and some are born with other skills,” Broom said, clearly pleased by the praise.
“Here, now,” Ives said.
Reid stepped up behind Missy and grabbed her by the arm. “On your feet, woman. You heard the man. I’m taking you back.”
Chancy had no real reason to do what he did next. Reid wasn’t going to harm her. But the sight of Reid touching her caused something in him to snap. He was out of his chair before anyone could blink and rammed his fist into Reid’s cheek, knocking Reid sideways. Someone bellowed, and fingers clutched at his shirt. He barely heard or felt either. Fists pumping, he tore into Ira Reid like a furious bobcat into a rival. He caught Reid with four or five solid punches before his arms were seized and he was slammed to the floor and pinned by Ackerman and the others.
Reid was on his knees, his fingers splayed to his bloody face. “What the hell?” he roared. “What the hell?”
“You shouldn’t ought to have done that, boy,” Mayor Broom said.
“He’s not to lay a hand on her,” Chancy practically shouted, beside himself with rage. “He’s not to so much as touch her.”
Reid heaved to his feet, red rivulets running down his cheek and neck. “You buzzard. No one does that to me twice and gets away with it.”
“Reid, don’t,” Broom said.
Ira Reid went for his Smith & Wesson.
And Chancy saw it. He saw why the others feared Krine so much. If he had blinked, he would have missed it.
In a blur, Krine was up out of his chair. His six-shooter seemed to fill his hand as if by arcane magic and he fanned the hammer two times so fast the explosions of sound were as one. The impact of the heavy slugs jolted Reid onto his bootheels. But Krine wasn’t done. He fanned the hammer a third time, and Reid crashed onto his back, taking a chair at a nearby
table down with him.
In the silence that followed, Chancy’s ears rang. Some of the outlaws looked to be in shock. Interestingly Ives was one of them.
“Damn him.” Mayor Broom broke the quiet. “He never did know how to do as he’s told.”
“Now we’re one less,” someone said.
Krine came around the table and glared at all of them. “Anyone else have something to say?”
No one did.
“We do things my way,” Krine said, his voice cracking like a whip. “That’s how it’s always been. Reid knew that. You know that. You do as I tell you, when I tell you. If you can’t live with that, light a shuck. Because if you don’t do as I say, you’ll end up like him.”
“It’s just that we might have needed him against the cowboys,” an outlaw by the bar said.
“There’s still twice as many of us as there is of them,” Krine said. “And I didn’t just hear you imply I did wrong, did I?”
“Not on your life,” the man replied, vigorously shaking his head.
“Anyone else have a gripe?” Krine demanded, and when no one spoke, he nodded. “Good. Broom, have the body drug out and buried. We don’t want him stinking up the place. Ackerman, you and Franklyn take three men and put the girl in her cabin and her boyfriend in another. Post men to keep watch. Then I want everyone else back here. We have to be ready when those I sent get back with word of where the cowboys are so we can end this once and for all.”
In the bustle that ensued, Chancy let himself be yanked to his feet and didn’t resist when outlaws hauled him out the batwings. He was behind Missy, and could have kissed her when she looked back and gave him a warm smile of encouragement.
The outlaws didn’t pay any attention. They were discussing something else.
“Did you see that?” Ackerman said.
“I was right there,” Franklyn said. He was paunchy and sallow and had yellow teeth. A Remington was strapped to his waist.
“I never saw anyone so fast in my life,” Ackerman said. “No wonder even Ives goes easy around him.”
“Krine is the real article, that’s for sure,” Franklyn said. “I wouldn’t buck him for all the gold in the Rockies.”
Ralph Compton Outlaw Town Page 18
