Leaving the bank Philip Olsen drove the rig down to the livery. He had lingered for a talk and a glass of brandy with the bank’s manager, but it was still a little way off noon. Knowing Howser and Jarrett though, he thought, they would likely be there in plenty of time.
He drove the rig around to the rear of the livery, parking under the slope-roofed lean-to that was there for the purpose of sheltering rigs and light wagons. He unhitched the horse and led it inside the livery.
The liveryman, an old-timer who seemed to have been in charge of the place for as long as anyone could remember, was raking the hard-packed floor with slow, measured strokes. He glanced up as Olsen led his horse inside.
‘Morning, Mr. Olsen. One hell of a day, huh?’
‘Depends on which way you look at it.’
The old man stopped his raking and leaned on his tool. ‘Yeah, I guess so. Course this is what you want, ain’t it, water and lots of it, I mean.’ He paused to scratch at his thin neck. ‘Now me, I could do without it. This kind of weather keeps everybody indoors. Nobody wants to come out in this kind of downpour.’ He sighed. ‘Just ain’t good for business,’ he muttered.
‘Rain won’t last forever.’
The old man nodded. ‘Guess you’re right.’ He leaned his rake against a stall. ‘Anyhow, I figure I’ll get me some lunch while things are quiet. Just see to your horse first.’
Olsen forced a smile. ‘You go ahead. I’ll see to it.’
‘You sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Well, if you say so. Thanks, Mr. Olsen.’ The liveryman shuffled off to his pokey office and dragged on a slicker that practically overwhelmed his skinny frame in its folds. He raised a hand to Olsen as he went out of the door and started up the street.
Olsen put the horse in a stall and gave it a rubdown. As he worked his mind was mulling over numerous problems. At the top of his list was Jim Talman and Rocking-T. He felt a little more satisfied after last night’s raid. The running of Rocking-T’s herd would keep things on the boil. Olsen had other schemes afoot to pursue his harassment against Jim Talman. With Curly Browning as foreman now, Olsen was anticipating a rapid forward movement of his takeover. Curly was eager to show his paces, willing to execute all the orders he was given. He had led Boxed-O last night, scattering Talman’s herd to hell and gone. The shooting of Andy Jacobs hadn’t been part of Olsen’s plan but he wasn’t complaining. It was another prop knocked from under Jim Talman, another weak spot in the structure of Rocking-T. It would be things like those that would win him Rocking-T. Bit by bit, but it had to be done quickly. And if it were not moving quickly enough there was always his final weapon — and the reason he was here today.
The killing of Jim Talman had to be something apart from anything else he was involved in. He would tell no one. The fewer who knew the better, he had decided. His use of Howser and Jarrett would be known to himself and the two men he was hiring. Maybe he wouldn’t need them. If he did he would use them without hesitation.
Olsen heard movement behind him. He straightened, turned. Howser and Jarrett stood watching him. A faint smile touched Howser’s lips.
‘I figured you for a man who paid others to do his work for him,’ Howser said, and Olsen sensed the meaning behind his words.
Olsen finished the rubdown. He stepped out of the stall, wiping his damp hands on his kerchief. ‘I started out as a stable boy,’ he said. ‘I know what it means to have dirty hands.’
‘Easier to pay to have it done though, huh?’ Howser questioned.
Olsen ignored the needling and took a white envelope from his coat. ‘Half the agreed sum.’ He held back as Howser reached out a hand. ‘Understand me clearly,’ he told the pair. ‘You behave as usual until I give the word. You don’t contact me, I’ll come to you.’
‘Sure. Don’t you worry, Mr. Olsen.’ Howser’s eyes were gleaming. ‘Hell, we won’t foul up.’
‘You’d better not. Do this right and maybe I’ll be able to use you again.’ He handed over the envelope. ‘Don’t start throwing this around. We don’t want anyone starting to wonder where you suddenly got rich.’
Olsen watched with distaste as Howser and Jarrett hungrily divided the money. ‘Stay in town and keep handy,’ he told them. ‘And remember what I’ve told you.’
‘Sure thing, boss,’ Howser grinned. He touched the brim of his hat, then turned, with Jarrett following close, and left the stable by the rear door, leaving Olsen alone with his thoughts.