Ten days later the second challenger arrived, coming in from the north.
He rode a dust-spattered paint with a sidekick forking a shaggy roan alongside. The one who turned out to be the challenger was a small man, no more than five feet four or five. He wore two guns on a buscadero rig with plenty of fancy carving in the leatherwork. Spanish, most folk said, recognizing the style as coming from below the Border.
Someone with better eyes than the others and more knowledge of guns pointed out that the Colts’ handles had been shaved down to allow a better fit in the man’s small hands.
The men rode straight past the law office, not even glancing in its direction, and dismounted outside Mannering’s Delta saloon.
Inside they ordered whiskey and the taller one pushed a coin towards the barkeep from the change pile.
‘Thanks, amigo, but boss don’t allow it. You boys from up north?’
‘What makes you say that?’ demanded the small man, sounding irritated.
‘That yaller dust all over you. Has to be from the Canary Desert.’
‘Everyone a smart-ass in this town or just you?’ the aggressive man cracked. The barkeep straightened and moved away down the counter. The small man slapped a hand down hard on the scarred woodwork. ‘Hey, you! I asked you a question!’
The tall man placed a hand on the other’s arm. ‘Easy, Frankie, we don’t need trouble here.’
‘Why not? It’ll bring Cole, won’t it?’
‘That ain’t how we planned it!’
‘Trouble with you, Biff, you’re bigger’n me but your brain’s smaller. You can’t adapt to a change in plans.’ And as he spoke he whipped up one of his guns, the left one, and shot out the bar mirror. Glass and bottles leapt in a wild cascade, cutting the cringing barkeep. The man held a grey bar towel to his bleeding face.
‘The hell you doin’?’
‘Gettin’ your attention – or your sheriff’s. If he ain’t too busy, or somethin’, to come see what’s happenin’.’
Biff groaned, seeing it was way too late to stop his smaller pard now.
‘You might be sorry if Cole does come!’
The barkeep yelped and jumped as Frankie fired over the counter, his bullet taking the already bleeding man in the foot. He collapsed, gritting his teeth, stifling a howl of pain.
Mannering, watching from his office doorway, spoke quietly over his shoulder to someone behind him. ‘Go get Cole.’
‘No need, boss.’ A hand came over Mannering’s shoulder, pointing in the direction of the batwings which had just slapped back. Cole entered, gun still in holster, but eyes darting around the smoke-dimmed room, his body tense, his movements catlike and alert.
He soon saw the source of the trouble, and identified it immediately as Frankie bared his teeth, holstering his six-gun.
‘Biff, I b’lieve we are now honoured with the presence of Sheriff Adam Cole, self-styled fastest gun alive – the poor bastard!’
‘You’re Frankie Delgado.’
‘Glad you recognize me.’ The pigeon chest puffed out some.
‘Saw you once in Fort Griffin. You shot a half-drunk buffalo runner, wounded him, made him crawl along the street and howl like a dog, shooting at him all the time. Till you finished him off. Thing is, one of those bullets ricocheted and killed a lady on a hotel balcony, knitting a shawl for the baby she hoped to have in a few weeks.’
Delgado wasn’t pleased at the accusation but didn’t deny it. ‘Main thing was, you seen how fast I am. That buff-runner was really Hi-Spade Hunnicutt, hidin’-out after killin’ a man in El Paso. Man he killed was a pard of mine. Hi-Spade deserved to die.’
‘The pregnant woman didn’t.’
Delgado sobered, then shrugged. ‘OK, you wanna make that the excuse to try to take me in,’s OK by me.’ He set his short legs firmly and the crowd pressed back – but not too far. Everyone wanted to see this. ‘But I ain’t goin’ with you!’
Biff leaned against the bar after moving along a little way, putting some distance between Frankie Delgado and himself. But just far enough along so that he was slightly to the rear of the sheriff, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the small man.
‘Guess you’re not too confident, Frankie. Having Biff there ready to cover you in case you’re not as fast as you figure.’
Delgado looked fit to bust. ‘The hell I ain’t!’
And that was it: no more talk. It was put up or shut up time.
He was damned near as fast as he believed. Frankie’s guns seemed to snap into line with his hands braced against his small hips as they blazed.
Cole staggered even as he fired. One shot. It almost took Delgado’s head off, snapping it back as if his neck was made of wet cardboard. The impact lifted his small feet from the sawdusted floor, hurling his body against the bar. He was still falling towards the floor when Biff triggered and Cole’s second bullet took him through the heart.
And, to the surprise and consternation of the drinkers, their sheriff was down on one knee, head hanging, gun hand on the floor, the arm supporting his weight.
*
A few weeks after the bank robbery attempt, Bess floored Linus with her announcement over dinner:
‘I’m thinking of taking a trip to the West Coast, Linus. I know you can’t get away from the bank at this time of year, so it will be just Donny and me. It’s time he met his Uncle Carl.’
Charlton almost choked on the last boiled potato and had to snatch at the water jug to fill his glass, but Donny, with an innocent smile, reached the jug first. He not only pulled it quickly towards him but knocked it over, spilling its contents.
‘Gee, Linus,’ he refused to call him ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’, even ‘Pop’ – ‘I’m sorry. I – I’ll go pump some more in a minute and fill the jug. You be OK till I get back? I mean, I wouldn’t want you to choke or anything—’
‘Donny!’ shouted Bess, half-rising, eyes narrowed. ‘Get through to the kitchen and pump that water! Hurry, you little devil!’ She lunged towards her gagging husband and clapped him between the shoulders as Donny strolled towards the kitchen doorway.
‘Move, damn you!’ It was the first time Linus had heard her use a cuss-word and Donny sure looked surprised. He started to run.
After Linus had settled down and was massaging his flabby throat, she made the boy apologize, which Donny did – with the worst possible grace. He was sent to bed without any more supper, but Linus knew she would sneak him a piece of pie or some kind of sweetmeat later.
‘So. You’ve timed your holiday to coincide with the busiest part of the year for my bank! The land sales, reassessment of mortgages, my inspection of outlying farms we have loaned money on—’
‘I’m sorry, dear. You know I’m impulsive, and once I get an idea in my head—’
‘Oh, yes! I know, all right! But dammit, Bess, I’d love to see San Francisco.’ They had great gambling halls there, he had been told, the stakes sky-high: why, some of the richest land-and-cattle owners in the US had gotten their start in the ’Frisco gaming halls.
‘Well, it’ll be better if we go now, before Donny starts the more serious side of his education. I wouldn’t want to interrupt his schooling.’
‘Oh, goodness, no! That would be unthinkable. How long do you estimate to be away?’
‘I haven’t given it much thought – a few weeks, I daresay. I might even spend the winter there. Carl says it’s much milder and there are no blizzards like the ones that sweep this God-forsaken hole….’
‘Months! And what the hell am I going to do? Who’s going to keep house for me? Make my meals, wash my clothes…?’
Of course, Bess didn’t do those things now: they had a live-in cook and maid-of-all-work, and Bess coolly reminded him of that now. ‘You’ll be well looked after, Linus, dear.’
‘Your mind’s made up, I see.’
‘Yes. It just … came to me. All detailed and everything. I need some decent clothes. I’m sick of mail order and never getting exactly what I expect. Curtis sent me to New York once, and Philadelphia and it was marvellous. I will, naturally, use my own money. You won’t be out of pocket.’
‘I would not expect to be! Damnit, Bess, Curtis didn’t have the responsibility of running a bank!’ growled Linus, knowing it was no use throwing one of his tantrums: she was too damn hard for that to work. ‘He could afford to pamper you and….’ He let the words trail off. What was the use? She was immovable.
But, by God, he would throw a spanner in the works if he could. Just the thought of that smirking little swine enjoying the sights of an exciting town like ’Frisco while he slaved away at all the problems this time of year seemed to magnify…!
‘I’m going for a walk,’ he announced abruptly.
‘Would you like my company, dear?’ Bess asked sweetly. ‘It’s a balmy might and—’
‘My own company is all I can stand right now!’
‘Of course, dear. I agree wholeheartedly.’
He grunted as he jammed on his hat and strode angrily out into the night.
He hadn’t gone half a block before he stopped dead on the boardwalk.
My God! That sneaky damn Jezebel! Curtis’s brother, Carl was a lawyer and executor of his brother’s will. He took care of the estate, advised Bess how she should spend or invest her money. Audited the books….
He knew she had received a letter from Carl a couple of weeks ago. Now she had impulsively decided to make the long, arduous trip to California, taking Donny with her. That part was OK, but why was she going now and what was she taking with her?
‘Oh, blast!’ Linus hissed, unaware of the beauty of the star-studded evening and a couple of passers-by wishing him ‘Good night’.
He felt sick to his stomach.
He turned and hurried back towards the large house on the hill at the end of Lavender Street.
He had just remembered he had left the keys to the house safe on his bedside table; there were things in there she shouldn’t see!
Linus began to run.