12

“Goddamn you, Slocum,” said Mix, “what the hell do you mean by accusing my wife of shooting me?”

“Now, Davey, I—”

“What reason could she have for shooting me? For trying to kill me? She’s been working her ass off nursing me. If she shot me, why would she do that? Answer me that one, will you?”

“Davey, if you’ll just shut up for a minute, I’ll try to explain things to you.”

“All right. Let me hear it. Let me hear it, you bastard.”

“I never accused her. I just said that I found a small boot print, like a woman’s, and then I saw her out riding and carrying guns. Then she went into the lawyer’s office to see about your will, and—”

“Hell, I was damn near dead. She ought to be checking on that will.”

“Yeah. I reckon so. Davey, I—”

“Slocum, you ain’t working for me no more. Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. Holding them out toward Slocum, he said, “This will cover your expenses, and more. Take it. Come on, take it and ride out of here.”

“Davey, I don’t want your money. Not till this is all cleared up.”

“Take it, goddamn you,” said Mix.

When Slocum still kept his hands down at his sides, Mix stuffed the money into Slocum’s shirt pocket. “There,” he said. “We’re finished. There’s nothing to keep you around here now.”

Mix spun on his heel and walked back toward Speer’s office. Slocum stood staring after him, wondering what the hell he should do. He really knew what he should do. He should pack up and ride out, the way Mix told him to. He knew better than to hang around where he wasn’t wanted. It would be by far the safest thing for him to do. So why the hell did he not do it? He had gotten into something that wasn’t finished, and he hated to ride away from it. He told himself he would just have to stay out of Mix’s way. That’s all. Avoid Mix but continue to watch, continue to investigate. He could still confide in Speer. He could keep his eye out for that gunfighter Rowland.

Rowland. There was the joker in the deck. Who had brought in that son of a bitch? And for what? To kill Slocum? To heat up the war between Mix and Ritchie? Or was Ritchie really guilty as hell after all, and had he brought Rowland in? Slocum might have thought that the problems were all solved with the killing of the three rustlers if it had not been for the boot print. Just then he saw the wagon come into town with the two bodies. He watched as the wagon drew up in front of Speer’s office. In a moment, Speer came out with Davey. He looked at the bodies. Then he gave some instructions, and the wagon pulled on down the street toward the undertaker’s parlor. Speer and Mix walked toward Ritchie’s hotel. Slocum wondered what was going on, but it was not the time to question Speer, not with Mix in his company. He walked over to Brenda’s Place and ordered some coffee.

Brenda wasn’t busy. She poured two cups and sat down with Slocum. “You’re wearing a long face,” she said. “Something bothering you?”

“Yeah,” said Slocum. “Davey’s run me out of town.”

“What for? I thought you two were good friends.”

“Yeah. I did too. But I quizzed up his wife about his shooting. She must have told him.”

“You mean you—”

“I saw a woman’s boot print where the shooter was standing,” Slocum said. “Then I saw her in riding gear packing irons. I questioned her. Davey didn’t take too kindly to that.”

“Well, he just married her. You can’t expect him to.”

“That was another thing. She got hitched up to him before he was well enough to stand up. She was in an awful hurry. Then she hurried into town to get the will changed.”

“Hmm. That is suspicious-looking.”

“Don’t say that to Davey,” Slocum warned. “He’ll run you out of town too.”

“I’ll keep it to myself,” she said.

“Have you seen that Rowland around?”

“He came in here once,” she said. “That’s all. He’s a mean-looking jasper. But his feet are bigger than a woman’s.”

“He showed up after Davey got shot too. No. I don’t think he shot Davey, but I think that whoever it is stirring up trouble likely brought him in. I’d sure like to know what he’s up to.”

“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

“I appreciate it,” said Slocum.

Slocum lifted his coffee cup for a long slurp, and just then Speer came walking in. He went straight to the table where Slocum and Brenda were sitting and pulled out a chair.

“Mind if I join you?” he said, sitting down.

Slocum said, “What if I said yes?”

Brenda said, “Not at all. You want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

She got up and went for another cup, bringing the pot back with her.

“Jay Everett and Charley Hill have been killed,” said Speer. “Shot to death in the same spot. Right by the fence line between Ritchie’s and Mix’s.”

“Oh, no,” said Brenda.

Slocum took out a cigar and lit it, sending smoke spiraling toward the ceiling.

“Any evidence?” he asked.

“I ain’t been out to the scene yet,” said Speer, “but Mix says that it looks like one man done the shooting.”

“But why would anyone shoot Dave’s and James’s foremen?” asked Brenda. “Both of them?”

“Stirring up the trouble,” said Slocum.

“Yeah,” said Speer. “Say, Dave just told me that he fired you.”

“That’s right.”

“How come?”

Slocum told the tale again about his questioning of Helen. “She told on me, I guess,” he concluded.

“What are you going to do?”

“Stick around,” said Slocum. “I feel like I’ve got unfinished business here.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. We still have that Rowland to worry about.”

“Do you think maybe he killed those two?” asked Brenda.

“That’d be my guess,” Slocum said. “Sheriff, you want to ride out and look over the scene?”

“I was hoping you’d offer to go with me,” said Speer.

Slocum drained his coffee cup. “Then let’s go for a ride. Thanks for the coffee, Brenda, and the company.”

 
In his apartment in the hotel, James Ritchie sat deep in thought. His wife, Margaret, brought him a drink and then sat down across the room from him. “It had to be Mix,” she said. “Who else could it be?”

“Why would he kill Charley Hill?”

“To cover his tracks maybe,” she said. “He might have figured that anyone would ask that question. Who else could have a reason to keep the trouble going between you two?”

Ritchie took a drink, then shook his head. “I don’t know, Margaret. I just can’t think of anyone who could gain anything from it.”

“You said that he patched things up with you. Well, that was just an act. That’s all. He’s still blaming you for all his trouble, and now he’s trying to get even.”

“I just can’t hardly think that Dave would murder those two men like that. He just never seemed like he could do that.”

“This whole business has made him crazy. You’re too trusting, James. You always have been. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know. There’s no proof. I can’t do anything without proof.”

“You can do what he did,” she said.

 
Slocum and Speer had no trouble finding the spot of the murders. Mix had told Speer where to look, and there were still bloodstains on the ground. They dismounted and tied their horses to the fence. They studied the blood for a time. “Dave said they was both laying right here,” said Speer. “Together. Only Everett’s horse was on the other side of the fence.”

“Maybe Everett heard the shot and came over to investigate,” Slocum said. “Maybe they weren’t together at all.”

“Maybe,” Speer agreed.

Slocum stood up and stared at the knoll off a short distance. Speer looked at him. “Are you thinking the shooter was up there?” he asked.

“It’s a likely place,” Slocum said. “Let’s take a look.”

They got their horses and rode over to the knoll. They hesitated only a moment, and then they rode to the top. They dismounted and started to look around. In a minute, Slocum found the spot where the shooter had been lying on the ground.

“Grass is still mashed down,” he said. “He was on his belly right here. He must have picked up his spent cartridges, though.”

“Yeah. I sure don’t see any around.”

They found where the shooter’s horse had been left, but there were no clear prints of any kind in the deep grass.

“Not much to go on,” Speer said.

“Just my gut feeling,” said Slocum. “I vote for Rowland on this one.”

“Could be.”

“Most likely.”

 
Back in town, Slocum and Speer went to the hotel and found Rowland’s room. Speer knocked on the door. A voice from inside the room said, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, the sheriff. Speer.”

“Come on in,” said the voice. “The door ain’t locked.”

Speer opened the door and stepped inside, followed by Slocum. Rowland was stretched out on the bed, his six-gun in his right hand, cocked.

“What are you doing with that damn gun?” Speer demanded.

Rowland let the hammer down and shoved the gun back into the holster hanging on the bedpost. He grinned.

“I had to make sure it was really you,” he said. “Being careless is a good way to get dead.”

“Then I’d be real careful if I was you,” said Slocum.

“I’m always careful.”

“You been out riding lately?” Speer asked.

“I’ve been right here in this room.”

“I’ll check on that,” Speer said.

“Check away. My employer has given me no instructions as yet.”

“I’m wondering if you’ve been riding out to Mix’s ranch,” Speer said. “Maybe found a little knoll close to the fence line between Mix’s and Ritchie’s. Maybe laid up there a while waiting for someone to come riding by.”

“No. I never,” said Rowland.

Slocum was looking around the room, and he spotted the rifle. He walked over close to where it was leaning against the wall in a corner of the room.

“That’s a nice-looking Henry,” he said. “Do you mind if I take a look at it?”

“Help yourself,” Rowland said.

Slocum picked up the rifle. He looked it over carefully. He sniffed it. “It’s just been cleaned,” he said.

“A man who don’t take care of his weapons might get dead,” Rowland said.

Slocum put the rifle back down. “Yeah,” he said. “He might get shot or he might get hanged.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just talk.”

“Rowland,” said Speer, “I’m asking you again just who the hell you’re working for. Are you going to tell me?”

“I can’t tell you,” Rowland said. “That’s part of the deal.”

“Were you hired to kill someone?”

“I never kill except in self-defense.”

“If there are witnesses,” said Slocum.

“Are you trying to raise my hackles, Slocum?” Rowland said. “Because if you are, you’re wasting your time and your energy. It ain’t going to work.”

“What if I was to just call you out?”

Rowland grinned again. “One of us would have to draw first,” he said. “It wouldn’t be me. You might get yourself arrested for murder.”

“It might just be worth it.”

“Never mind that kind of talk, Slocum,” said Speer. “I don’t want any gunfights around here. But I don’t want any more killings either.”

“Has someone been killed?” Rowland asked. “Since I been in town?”

“Two men,” said Speer. “Ritchie’s foreman and Mix’s foreman. They was shot down out on Mix’s range this morning early.”

“And you think I done it,” said Rowland. He grinned again. Slocum wanted to wipe the grin off his damn silly face. “Well, Sheriff, if you get any evidence against me, come and see me about it then. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me be.”

“You’ve got to come out of this room sometime, Rowland,” said Slocum. “When you do, we’ll meet up.”

“I’ll be looking forward to that. By the way, it’s kind of strange seeing you with the sheriff. Ain’t you and me in the same line of work?”

“I doubt it,” said Slocum.

“I’ve heard of you. You hire out your gun. I heard that you were here as a hired gun. Someone brought you in before I come along. I heard it was Dave Mix.”

“Dave’s an old friend of mine,” Slocum said. “He wrote me he was having some trouble, and I came here to see if I could help out. He didn’t hire me to kill anyone.”

“I heard you killed three men already since you been here.”

“Rustlers,” said Speer. “I know all about that.”

“Did you have proof?”

“We did.”

“Would it have held up in a courtroom?”

“We’ll never know that, will we?” said Speer. “I think it would have, though.”

“We’re in the same business, Slocum, me and you,” said Rowland, and he grinned again. Each time he grinned, his grin seemed wider. Slocum turned and walked out of the room. Speer walked to the door, but he stood in the doorway for a moment. He turned and looked back at Rowland.

“I’ll be watching your every move,” he said. “If you spit on the sidewalk, your ass will be in jail.”

“I’ll be real careful what I do while I’m in your town, Sheriff,” Rowland said.

Speer walked on out in the hall and joined Slocum. They walked down the hallway without speaking, and then they started down the stairs. “I think you were right, Slocum,” Speer said.

“About what?”

“He’s the guilty one all right.”

“We got to find a way to prove it, though,” Slocum said.

“We need to find out who hired him,” said the sheriff.

“Hell,” Slocum said. “Why don’t you just let me call him out?”