The Shadow of a Noose

by Ralph Compton

  “I’ve been told I can’t,” Danielle said, trying to sound regretful. “Looks like I’m in this contest whether I want to be or not.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I heard,” said Goss. “Damn, I feel like it’s mine and Cincinnati’s fault, causing trouble with Dunc, and you cracking his head for him. I never figured he’d take it so hard.”

  Danielle cocked her head, curious. “I meant having to face off with Chancy Burke today. What are you talking about, Goss?”

  Morgan Goss blinked his big watery eyes again, saying, “Hell, you don’t know? Dunc is all stoked up over you busting his head. Came back in the tent late last night, wild-eyed crazy, swearing he was going to shoot you dead.”

  “Damn it,” Danielle whispered under her breath. She got the picture now. Duncan was so ashamed of what his brother Newt and Chancy Burke had seen, that now he had to prove something to them. He had to turn against his friend Danny Duggin just to save face. The poor stupid fool, Danielle thought. Duncan Grago thought there was something wrong with himself because he felt an attraction for her. It was an attraction he could only think of as unnatural, having no idea Danny Duggin was really a woman. “Where is Dunc?” she asked Goss.

  “He passed out a couple of hours ago,” Goss said. “They carried him inside the shack.”

  “Who else is in there?”

  “Nobody.” Goss shrugged. “Newt, Haas, and Chancy Burke all three rode out an hour ago to check on the guards. Three more men showed up during the night. There’s supposed to be more coming still.”

  “Who are they?” Danielle asked, hoping it was the men on her list.

  “One of them is Mysterious Dave Mather6. The other two are Bill Longley† and Briley Whitfield. Briley ain’t nothing, he just rode here with them. But Longley’s a straight-up killer. Said he heard about this shooting contest all the way over in Evergreen, Texas, when Rufe Gaddis rode through and told him about it.”

  “Is Rufe Gaddis here yet?” Danielle asked, recognizing his name from her list.

  “Naw, but he will be before long,” said Goss, “along with Saul Delmano and the rest of them. Bill Longley says he plans to make himself a thousand-dollar grubstake here, then quit. Mather said a man had to be crazy to take part in something like this, but he’ll be betting on Bill Longley. If I was you, I’d be careful. This thing is drawing gunmen like honey draws flies.”

  “Thanks, Goss, I will be.” Danielle let out a breath, then turned and walked to the door of the plank shack. She knocked low and quietly, then seeing the door open a few inches from the touch of her knuckles, she eased inside and closed the door behind her.

  “Dunc?” she inquired, taking a step forward toward the snoring figure stretched out on a bunk beneath a wad of blanket. When Duncan Grago didn’t stir, she stepped closer and said his name again. This time, Duncan Grago heard her and sprang up onto the side of the bunk, gathering his open shirt across his chest. His gun belt hung from a ladder-back chair beside the bunk. “It’s me, Danny Duggin,” Danielle said, taking a step between Duncan and his pistol belt.

  “I know it’s you, Danny,” Duncan said in bitter voice, “and you’ve got no business here. If Newt sees you here, he’ll kill you. What do you want?”

  “I heard you were making threats against me, Dunc,” Danielle said. “Don’t do something stupid and make me have to kill you.”

  His red-streaked eyes lifted to her, full of anger. “What makes you so damn sure you’ll be the one doing the killing?”

  “I’m not here to argue, Dunc. I just came to let you know. I don’t want us to face off out there. If it happens, it’ll be your call, not mine.”

  Duncan looked down and rubbed his face with both hands. “I was drunk when I said it, Danny.” He hesitated for a second, then added, “But I told my brother I was going to do it . . . so I reckon I will. He thinks there’s something—” Duncan cut himself off, then shook his head and held his face in his hands. “Hell, I don’t know what he thinks. I don’t even know what I think. There’s something about you, Danny. You make me have crazy thoughts. I feel like I’m losing my mind when I’m around you.”

  Danielle felt sorry for him, seeing how confused he was over his feelings. But there was no way she could explain it to him. In all her time posing as a man, this was the first time something like this had happened. Somehow her womanhood had reached through her rough disguise, and although neither she nor Duncan Grago had meant for it to happen, he seemed to have fallen for her. He didn’t realize that what he felt was only the natural draw of a man to a woman. All he knew was there were feelings inside him that he could not fathom.

  “Dunc, listen to me,” she said, almost having to bite her tongue to keep from telling him the truth, “there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not losing your mind. But you need to get away from here, clear your head somewhere, get yourself a woman. You’ve been away all these years, everything is crowding you. Don’t let yourself get tricked into thinking that you have to prove yourself to your brother or anybody else.”

  “Prove what to my brother?” He stood up from the bunk, his fists clenched at his sides. “What the hell are you trying to say is wrong with me?”

  Danielle didn’t back down an inch. She could tell he wanted to step forward in his rage and his shame, but she also knew he wasn’t about to have her pistol come up from her holster and crack his head again. “Stand down, Dunc,” she warned in a low tone, “I’m not saying anything is wrong with you. It’s you who’s thinking it.”

  “Damn it to hell! Get out of here!” Duncan shouted hoarsely at her. “This is a shooting contest! I’ll choose who I want to face on the street! If you don’t want a shoot-out with me, crawfish out of this camp and don’t come back! Or I’ll kill you, Danny Duggin, I swear to God I will!”

  Danielle took a slow step back, her hand on her Colt, mindful of Duncan’s pistol in the holster hanging on the chair back. She raised a finger, pointing at him as she spoke. “All right, Dunc, I’ve asked you not to do it. I’ll face Chancy Burke in the street. I’ll kill him, there’s not a doubt in my mind. Whether or not I face you next is up to you. Think it over, that’s all I ask.”

  Danielle backed to the door, opening it behind her. Before she stepped back from the shack, she saw the disturbed, hurt look in Duncan’s eyes. “Danny,” he said, shaking his head slowly, “I’m sorry. I’ve got to do it, don’t you see? I hate to . . . but I’ve just got to.”

  “Yeah,” she said, almost in a whisper. “So do I, Dunc. So do I.”

  Danielle walked back to the front of the large gambling tent where Morgan Goss stood talking to the three men who had arrived during the night. Other men had stirred from their blankets and they came drifting in out of the morning haze. Lulu came walking up to Morgan Goss and the others at the same time as Danielle. “What was all the shouting about?” she asked, barely stopping long enough for an answer as she headed inside the large tent with a metal cash box under her arm.

  “Ask Danny Duggin,” Goss said, pointing in Danielle’s direction. But Lulu only tossed Danielle a glance in passing and let the tent fly fall behind her.

  “Danny Duggin?” one of the newcomers inquired as Danielle stepped in among them. He was a thin, young man with small pinched eyes and a drooping dark mustache. A bottle of rye hung from his right hand. Next to him stood a taller young man, equally thin, wearing a long goatee. “I knew some Duggins back in Pennsylvania. Any kin there?”

  “No kin that I know of,” Danielle replied.

  “Say, you’re the one Burke and some of the others were talking about last night,” said the one with the goatee.

  “Oh?” Danielle just looked at him.

  “Yep, he’s the one, all right,” said Morgan Goss. “He’s a good hombre, in my opinion, and I don’t say that often about anybody.”

  “Hell, Goss, you don’t even say that about your own pa.” The man with the goatee chuckled.

  “Danny,” said Goss, “this here is Billy Longley and Dave
Mather.”

  Danielle gave the two men a respectful nod.

  “Good to make your acquaintance, Danny Duggin,” said Longley, the one with the long goatee.

  “I’m glad to get the chance to size up the competition.” He spread a tight level grin. “Looks like one of us will soon be laying dead, while the other strikes a match on his belt buckle.”

  “I won’t be shooting with you, Bill Longley,” Danielle said firmly, “so you might just as well forget it. Go check out some other competition.”

  “Bet you a dollar I can goad you into it.” Longley grinned.

  “No bet, Longley,” said Danielle. “This contest ain’t my style. I’m only shooting against Chancy Burke because there’s no way out of it,” she lied. “Newt Grago is forcing me into it.”

  “Aw, come on now, Danny Duggin,” said Bill Longley. “You don’t look like a man easily forced into anything he don’t want to do in the first place.”

  Danielle just stared at him.

  “Don’t let Bill get under your skin, Danny Duggin,” said Dave Mather. “He’s come here with the notion of making a thousand dollars. It’s got him a little edgy just thinking about it.”

  “Ain’t a damn thing edgy about me,” Longley said to Mather, keeping a fixed stare on Danielle. “I’ll make my thousand any way they want to do this thing. I’ll kill one son of a bitch for a thousand, two sonsabitches for five hundred a piece, or a thousand sonsabitches for a dollar a head. Makes me no difference.”

  “Good luck then,” said Danielle. “I won’t be one of them.”

  “Are you sure, Danny Duggin?” Longley asked, leaning a bit toward her.

  “Cut it out, Bill,” Mather said laughingly, pulling Longley back and sticking the bottle of rye in his hand. “Here, have some breakfast.” Mather turned to Danielle. “What’s the story on you and Dunc Grago? Goss said he’s talking about killing you.”

  “Talk won’t get it done,” Danielle said. “He was drunk, I cracked his head. I’m hoping he’ll get over it before the shooting starts.”

  “Some men get over a head cracking sooner than others,” said Mather with a wince. “Some don’t get over them at all. If I was you, I’d shoot Duncan Grago as soon as his face hits daylight coming out of the shack.” He grinned. “It might save you a lot of trouble down the road.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Danielle said. “Now if you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to see what this place feeds for breakfast before the morning drinkers show up.”

  “Better hurry then.” Mather grinned. “They’re dragging in already.”

  No sooner had Danielle stepped out of sight inside the large tent, than Bill Longley leaned closer to Dave Mather and asked, “What do you say, Dave? He doesn’t look like much to me. After I trim a couple other of these gunslingers down, talk Danny Duggin into trying me, then put a couple of hundred on me with Merlin Haas. We’ll make a bundle.”

  “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man you can talk into anything,” Mather replied. “Besides, I ain’t sure I’d put a hundred on you against this Danny Duggin, if that’s his real name. He impresses me as a man on a mission. Get between him and whatever that mission is, I could see him killing you without batting an eye.”

  “Thanks for your support, partner,” Longley hissed, giving Mather a rough shove.

  Mather rocked back on his feet, then came forward and snatched the bottle of rye from Bill Longley’s hand, grinning. “Don’t mention it, partner,” he replied, raising the bottle to his lips.

  By the time Danielle had washed down a bowl of loose hash with a mug of warm beer, the tent was alive and kicking with outlaws still drunk or hung over from the night before. Halfway through her meal, Danielle caught sight of Duncan Grago coming into the tent. Duncan had Lulu set him up a bottle of rye and a glass. But upon seeing Danielle down the bar from him, Duncan sneered, backhanded the glass from the bar, jerked up the bottle, and left with it. Danielle stood still for a moment, just staring at the open tent fly.

  “What’s the matter, Danny Duggin?” said Lulu’s voice behind the bar. “You and your buddy not waking up eye to eye this morning?”

  Danielle turned to face her across the plank bar. “Do we know each other, ma’am?”

  Lulu saw the flare of fire in her eyes before Danielle managed to conceal it. “Honey, you don’t know me, but I sure know you.” Lulu tossed a hand. “Leastwise, I know of you. You’re the one giving Newt Grago his worst night’s sleep in years.”

  “If that’s true, then I’m glad of it,” said Danielle, laying down a coin for her breakfast and beer.

  “Ready for another?” Lulu asked.

  “No thanks. I wasn’t even ready for that one, until you said you’re out of coffee.” Danielle offered an amiable smile to make up for the look in her eyes when Lulu had first approached her.

  “I’m Lulu Dorsey. Glad to meet you, Danny Duggin,” Lulu said, returning the smile. She cocked her head to one side. “Tell me something—what is it about you that’s got the Grago brothers and Chancy Burke so stirred up?”

  “Beats me, Lulu,” said Danielle. “I reckon they were just looking for something to get stirred up over, and I happened along. That’s just my opinion.” Now Danielle cocked her head in return, asking, “Why do you think it is?”

  “I think it’s because you remind them of things they’d sooner forget. Newt thinks you recognize him from somewhere, like maybe you’ve got a grudge to settle or something.”

  “If that’s so, why hasn’t he made a move to try and settle up with me?” Danielle asked. “Or, better yet, why haven’t I made a move to settle that grudge if there is one?”

  “Oh, I don’t know . . .” Lulu fluffed her curly hair with her fingertips, flirting with what she thought was the handsome young Danny Duggin standing before her. “But if you’re not busy tonight, we could go over all the reasons—” Her words were cut short at the sight of Duncan Grago stepping back inside the tent with his pistol out at arm’s length, aimed and cocked at Danielle.

  “Damn you to hell, Danny Duggin!” Duncan Grago screamed, his face contorted, tears running freely down his cheeks. Lulu jumped to the side and down to the dirt floor. Men dove away from the bar and the faro tables, taking cover. But Danielle stood firm, her eyes riveted on Duncan Grago, both her hands coming up slowly and spreading along the edge of the bar behind her. “You better grab for your Colt, Danny! I’m going to kill you!”

  Danielle saw the anger and the madness in his eyes. Yet, she saw something else there that told her if she didn’t make a move she wouldn’t have to kill him. She held firm, resisting the urge to go for her pistol, praying she wasn’t calling this thing wrong—if she was, she’d surely die.

  “I mean it, Danny! Damn you!” Duncan bellowed. “Go for your Colt, or I’ll cut you in half! I swear it!”

  Danielle never wavered an inch. The first shot from Duncan’s pistol exploded, the bullet whistling past her shoulder two feet away. Behind the bar a stack of beer mugs shattered in a spray of glass. Danielle only stared. Her hunch was confirmed. If Duncan meant to shoot her, he wouldn’t have missed, not by that wide of a mark. The next shot went past her other shoulder, this one father away than the first. She allowed herself a tight breath, still holding ground.

  “I mean it!” Duncan raged. Two more shots exploded, one on either side of her, wood splinters showering down from where one bullet nipped the tent pole behind the bar. “What do you want from me, huh? Want me to holster up? Give you a chance to draw? All right, there!” Duncan uncocked his pistol and shoved it into his holster. His trembling hand poised close to the butt of the weapon. “Now draw, damn you! Draw, or I’ll kill you in cold blood, so help me God!”

  Danielle still only stared, making no effort to prepare herself for a gunfight. “All right then! You’re dead!” Duncan screamed. He streaked the pistol up from his holster, cocked and pointed. In that second Danielle saw clearly what Duncan Grago was asking of his friend Danny Duggin. In his
confused and tortured state of mind, Duncan was asking to be killed. Like some injured hopeless animal, his every move begged to be put out of his misery.

  “I won’t fight you, Dunc, not like this,” Danielle said in a level, unyielding voice.

  Duncan Grago’s hand shook even worse, then slumped toward the dirt floor. He let out a tormented scream, firing the two remaining shots into the ground. “Damn it to everlasting hell! What’s happening to me?” he sobbed, crumbling to his knees in full view of the other outlaws.

  “Nothing you don’t have coming, you son of a bitch!” said Bill Longley, stepping in behind him and planting a hard boot on his slumped shoulder. Duncan Grago flew forward on his face. Bill Longley jumped forward, yanking a pair of brass knuckles from his hip pocket. “What kind of low poltroon makes a play like that and then don’t follow through. I’ll work your head over like it’s a hickory stump.” He reached down, grabbed Duncan Grago by the back of his shirt, and lifted him up halfway, drawing back the brass knuckles for a good solid punch to Duncan’s face.

  “Turn him loose, Longley,” Danielle said, stepping forward.

  “Like hell,” said Longley, drawing his arm farther back, widening the arc of his swing. But his arm stopped suddenly as the tip of Danielle’s pistol barrel jammed against his ear and cocked.

  “I said turn him loose. Nobody takes up my fight unless I ask them to.” Danielle leaned some pressure into the Colt, causing Longley’s head to tilt beneath the weight of it.

  “For God sakes, don’t beg for my life, Danny!” Duncan Grago sobbed into the dirt.

  “Shut up, Dunc,” Danielle snapped.

  “You’re making a bad mistake, Duggin,” Bill Longley snarled, trying to look sideways as he spoke.

  “Let me lay into this piece of punkwood. I want to beat him real bad.”