I Might As Well Because I Have No Choice

by Travis Ford

CHAPTER SIX

  We had ourselves a meal and when we came out of the restaurant, a man was standing on the curb, "Hello Mussolini," he said.

  It was that man Hilmore that we last seen a couple of hundred miles east.

  "I figured you will settle in east Dakota with a town named for you," I said.

  "It wasn’t named for me" He took some cigars from his pocket and offered them. "Smoke?"

  It was a good cigar.

  He lit one himself and we all lit up. Then he said, "You’re living good."

  "We got a right."

  "I was wondering why, how somebody, you could go on like that?"

  "Look man, you looking to fucking start something, you keep on with that big nose into my business."

  He chuckled, "You may have the best of me there. I can’t break yours. Somebody beat me to it."

  Well, what could I do but laugh? My nose had been broken a couple of times. "The hell with it. You following us?"

  "No. Just going east. Have you seen any more of Karl Kellen?" Hilmore asked.

  Odd thing, I’d been so busy thinking about Hobes Izumi, that I had forgotten all about Karl Kellen.

  When I didn’t say anything, Hilmore glanced at his cigar and commented, "Mussolini, you strike me as an honest man. Maybe a hard one to get along with, but an honest one. So I don’t want you to get in some of the bullshit floating around."

  "I been up the creek. Most ways I knew my way around," I said.

  "All right." He held out his hand and said, "Guys, my name is Price Hilmore. Call me Price. And if you ever want to talk about things, or if there’s anything I can do, call me."

  We walked away and left the end of city were we would catch our freight going out. Jaquan said to me, "He’s a rebel, Pacino. That’s a rebel man."

  An it made a lot of sense. But who was he after? Karl Kellen?

  They had said Karl Kellen was wanted for murder.

  "That Karl Kellen, maybe he murdered a Rebel," said Jaquan.

  We dropped off the freight before it reached New Jersey station and walked up Pacific Avenue.

  "This here’s a living city," I said to Jaquan. But before after a few steps, I amended that. "Now, I better back off on that, for I should say this here is a stock town, there’s folks around who favor sheep."

  We turned off and went past the cat houses to Main and kept on to Zian’s Coupe. A couple of Hat X Timers were hanging out in front of the bar and one of them, seeing me packing that gear, commented, "Now look here, first time I ever seen Pacino when he had the saddle in the right place."

  "Least I chase steers. They don’t chase me."

  Dropping the gear to the boardwalk, I dug into my pocket for the stub end of the cigar Hilmore had given me. They eyed me while I put some fire to the ash end of the cigar, making a great deal of it to impress them with my presence.

  "I and Jaquan," I jerked my head to indicate my partner, "are hunting a business connection where we can invest."

  "You might try the Kloaks," one of the guys said, looking wickedly. "They always seemed ready to take you on."

  "You can’t spread the word," I said solemnly, "those Kloaks are safe. I’m a reformed man."

  "Now they’ll be mighty relieved to hear you said that," the other guys commented dryly. "Shalhoup Cleveland was around last night, saying how dull it was with you out of city and there were nobody around to turn to a bloody pulp. He was drunk. And remembered that fight from ages ago."

  "He was the better of me once in a fight. But he didn’t mention I beat his ass when I sobered, did he?"

  "No. You stick around. You can have your chance tonight."

  "He’s still around over at Bret Roundtree’s?"

  They exchanged a glanced. "You surely been gone. Roundtree left out of here one night by special invite."

  That was news, but not expected. Roundtree’s had been a long time hangout for the wild bunch. If anything was going on, you could hear it over at Roundtree, if they knew you.

  Big nose George and his crowd hung out there when they were in the city and come to think of it, Hobes Izumi had a few friends in that getup. But when I started to ask about Hobes, something wanted me to hold off. Hobes and me, we’d been friends, but never partners, partners.

  We went into Zian’s and I led the way to the store. Zian always kept a big pot of mulligan stew going on the stove, and you could help yourself.

  Jaquan and I couldn’t afford to pass up a social invitation of that sort.

  "That Shalhoup Cleveland, did he beat your ass?" Jaquan asked.

  "I was off guard. An I was a little drunk. He’s big and he’s fast. But when I sobered, I beat his ass! Because when a man whoops me once, he gotta whoop, me until I beat his ass and win. That fight happened ages ago."

  "What did you get to fighting about?"

  Well, I just looked at Jaquan plainly surprised. "He pissed me off. And he’s pissing me off now."

  "You gonna fight him again?"

  "I’m sober now. I’m gonna beat his ass again."

  Jaquan said, "We can box some."