Yancey had seen Cato with worse hangovers, but he hadn’t seen him look so down as he did when he came to the hotel room the next morning. He had a face on him as long as a horse’s and he walked easy and careful, removed his hat gingerly and sat down in a chair by slow degrees. When he was finally seated Cato released a long, slow sigh and squinted up at Yancey.
The big man returned his gaze, then turned back to the shaving mirror and dabbed some more iodine on a cut on his jaw and another above his right eye.
“How are you feelin’?” Cato asked in a gravelly voice.
“Okay. How about you?”
“If you’ve got a spare headstone, you can have my name carved on it. I don’t think I’ll last the day.”
Yancey grinned and walked across, pulling on his shirt, standing near Cato’s chair. “I reckon you’ll make it, Johnny, but you really tied one on last night. In fact, the last two or three nights from what I hear.”
Cato snapped his head up and winced, slapping a hand to his forehead swiftly. “Well, mebbe. Listen, Yance, I’m sorry I kind of got out of line last night with you. I’d been hittin’ the booze and I’d had a bad run with the cards.” He shrugged awkwardly.
Yancey stared down at him soberly. “Well, you were kind of sour, and maybe I poked my nose in where I shouldn’t have, but that I.O.U. business shook me some.”
Cato’s mouth tightened as he nodded jerkily. “Yeah, but it’s only temporary, I hope. My luck’s gotta change soon.” Yancey stiffened. “You’re going to keep on playing with those four-flushers?”
“Aw, they’re not that bad, Yance. I know what to look for. They won’t steal me blind.”
“You’re the one owes ’em. I don’t see any of their money in your pocket.”
“All right, all right!” Cato snapped irritably. “Like I said, my luck’ll change. Okay?”
Yancey merely stared at him for a while, then asked, quietly, “What is it, Johnny? What suddenly started you on this binge? Boozin’, gamblin’, chasin’ women. Yeah, yeah, I know you’ve always done those things, but just once in a while, except maybe the women bit: you always liked the ladies. But you got a wedding coming up. You got to think about Marnie.”
“Damn it, why do you think I ...?” Cato broke off abruptly and stood up, his hands crushing his hat brim, jaw muscles knotting. “Hell, Yance, I’m not the marryin’ kind.”
“Bit late now pard!”
“I know. Look, I dunno how it came about. Honest Injun. I—I like Marnie a lot, maybe more than any other gal I’ve known, but I ain’t sure I want to be hogtied by marryin’ her. I know it sounds kind of lousy, and I don’t want to hurt her, but ...” He shrugged. “Well, hell, Yance, I—I guess I’m just plain scared.”
Yancey smiled faintly. “I figured it might be something like that, Johnny. Marnie’s a fine gal, and I reckon she’ll make you a fine wife and I’d like to see that happen. But it’s up to you and if you want to change your mind, then you’ve got to tell her. And pronto. You can’t let it go on and leave it any longer before you tell her you want out. Wouldn’t be fair to her.”
Cato’s jaw muscles bulged again. “I know, damn it!” He looked as if he was going to start pacing but stopped abruptly and muttered a curse. “Goddamn it! I don’t want to hurt Marnie. But I sure as hell don’t want to be married either. I feel that everyone’s kind of pushed me into a corner, Yance. Things have just developed, folks have taken a hell of a lot for granted, and now I want out.”
“Hold up, Johnny! You can’t blame everyone and not yourself. You must’ve done something to make Marnie think you wanted to marry her. You sure as hell gave Kate and me that impression. So you got to face up to it: any problems you got are of your own making.”
Cato glared. “Some pard you turned out to be!”
“You want the truth, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Well, no matter how it happened, I want out and pronto.”
“Then go tell Marnie,” Yancey said flatly. “And let her down easy.”
Cato frowned. “I guess that’s what I should do. Yeah. By the way, Yance, can you lend me seventy-five?”
Yancey stiffened at the forced casual tone. “Seventy-five what?”
“Dollars!”
“You’re kidding!”
But Cato’s face told Yancey the smaller man was deadly serious. “I need it, Yance. You’ll get it back.”
“I’m not worried about that part, but what does bother me to hell is why you need seventy-five bucks.”
“Got a few debts I want to clear up, is all,” Cato told him shortly.
“Like I.O.U.s to Vella and his cronies?”
Cato looked up at him with hard eyes. “Mebbe. What I do with the money is my affair. Long as you get it back, you got no more worries.”
“Like hell. How come a feller on your kind of pay has to come borrowin’? You spend plenty, sure, but you must have some in the bank, I see you go in there fairly regularly.”
“Look, Yance, you gonna lend me the money or not?”
Yancey was thinking aloud. “If you can’t rake up seventy-five bucks it means you’re broke and I’m damned if I can see that. You just don’t spend that much, Johnny. Not unless—unless, like Vella said, you’ve been writin’ I.O.U.s for quite some time! Long before you met Marnie and got entangled in this wedding thing!”
Cato fidgeted and dropped his gaze.
“By hell, that’s it! I can see it on your face!” Yancey went on. “All those nights you said you were with a gal at the Glass Slipper you were gambling, playing poker with Vella and his crowd! Hell almighty, Johnny, that’s plumb loco. You know what kind of thing you’re leaving yourself open for doing that, getting into the clutches of professional cardsharp with a job like you’ve got! They can blackmail you into doing just about anything and a man like Dukes makes enemies who’d be glad of the chance to get you in a corner.”
“What the hell do you think I am?” snapped Cato. “You think I’d let someone pressure me into betraying the governor?”
“I’m saying that you could be backed into a corner where you don’t have any choice.”
“Hogwash! What I do in my own time is my business. Aaah, I’m tired of all this. Will you lend me the money or not, Yancey?”
Yancey stared coldly at him, thinking, deciding. Finally, he nodded. “On the condition that you quit this damn stupid boozing and whoring and gambling. Take a hitch in your cinch strap, Johnny. There’s a damn fine gal waiting to marry you, and you’ve got a lot of good friends behind you, who’ll help you, but you got to show ’em you’re trying to help yourself, too.”
“Okay, Yance, fair enough deal,” Cato said almost without hesitation. “I’ll square away this little debt and then that’s it. No more gamblin’. Funny how I got into it. I used to be hell with a deck of cards up in Laramie. Lost a complete ranch with seven hundred head of cattle in draw poker once. Had my gunshop mortgaged to the hilt, then I struck a winnin’ streak and never looked back. After that a hombre burned my shop down and took off. I gave chase and was on the trail for months. Kind of got the gamblin’ bug out of my system. I met you and we teamed-up and took on this Enforcing job for Dukes and I never even thought about a game of poker. Seemed to have it all out of my system. Then one night me and another feller started to argue over the same gal in the Glass Slipper. He wasn’t a fightin’ man, but he was a gambler, and we played a hand of cards for her. I won. And then I played the houseman, Vella, for a champagne supper on the house and won that, too. When I was leavin’ next mornin’, he said how about a friendly hand for a couple of rounds of drinks. I won again and I knew I had my winnin’ streak still ...” He shrugged. “I started havin’ the odd poker game of a night when I had time. I lost a few hands here and there and by the time I realized I was on a losin’ streak, it was too late. It had me again. All I wanted to do was square away and leave it at that. But there was always the chance that one more hand and I’d break even. Then one more, and I’d be off on another winnin’ streak.” He shook his head and sighed. “It’s worse than the booze, Yance. Sooner or later a man on the bottle gets so bad he’s got to stop or die. But gamblin’ just seems to go on and on and a man sinks lower and lower.”
“Which is why I’d like you to square away what you owe and forget it before it grabs you like that, Johnny. I know it’s not easy, but you’ve got to give it a try. For Marnie’s sake as well as your own.”
Cato nodded, tight-lipped. “Yeah, well, I’ll do that. It was just—cold feet, weddin’ nerves, somethin’ like that. Put the pressure on me and I guess I bent under it.”
Yancey felt sorry for Cato; the man was obviously miserable. But the big Enforcer marveled that after all this time, after all the things they had shared together, he was seeing a facet of Cato’s character that he hadn’t even known existed.
Things seemed to go all right after that for the next three days, at least. Cato cleaned himself up and there was the old smile back on his face and he was attentive and affectionate to Marnie, eager to discuss the wedding plans, hiring a surrey and taking her outside of Austin to look at land where they might build a house. Kate was vastly relieved about it and Yancey felt better, too, but it still bothered him that Cato should have been acting so out-of-character at all. He still found it difficult to accept that Cato had a gambling weakness that he hadn’t known about.
Anyway, it seemed to have been pushed well to the rear now and the wedding day rolled closer.
Then, about a week later, Yancey was walking across the plaza when he heard his name called and he checked, turning to see who it was. He frowned. A tall, slab-shouldered, gun hung man was ambling across the plaza from the direction of the Mexican Market. He was eating the remains of a cantaloupe with his left hand but his right hand dangled down at his side, close to his gun butt. It did not swing when he walked: here was a man who aimed to keep his gun within easy reach. Behind him, Yancey noticed a surrey with a man lounging in the driving seat, watching both Yancey and the tall man with the melon.
He was blond-haired and his eyebrows and longhorn moustache were sun bleached, pale against his mahogany-colored face. He dropped the melon rind and wiped the back of his left hand across his mouth. He smiled affably enough.
“You are Bannerman?” he asked and, at Yancey’s cool nod, said, “Name’s Wyatt—Waco Wyatt.”
Yancey’s eyes pinched down. He had heard of Wyatt. Paid gunfighter, a man with many kills against him; arrogant; supremely confident of his gun speed; afraid of no man living.
“What can I do for you, Wyatt?” Yancey asked easily.
“Not much, I guess,” Wyatt said with a sardonic curl of his lip. “Just answer a couple of questions.”
Yancey frowned slightly, but said nothing. He appeared relaxed, standing easy, but he was tensed inside, wondering if this gunman was going to call him out on some pretext. Wyatt, from what he had heard was one of those hombres who just had to test the gun speed of any fast gun that happened to be in the same neck of the woods.
“You know someone named John Cato?” Wyatt asked. Surprised, Yancey nodded slowly.
“How well do you know him?”
“Pretty well. What’s it to you, Wyatt?”
“Nothin’. But it is to my boss.” He half-turned and used his left hand to indicate the man in the surrey. “Man name of Steve Blayne. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”
Yancey had, but he didn’t know much about the man. He was a mystery man. He had a lot of money or seemed to have, but no one knew how he made it or where. He didn’t seem to have any fixed place to operate from; there had been rumors of the man appearing all over Texas, and in a half-dozen other states, even south of the Rio. Lately, he had been accompanied everywhere by Waco Wyatt so Yancey figured Wyatt must have hired out his gun to Blayne. Apart from knowing Blayne was in his late thirties, Yancey had no more information about the man.
“He wants to see you,” Wyatt added, standing to one side and indicating that Yancey should go towards the surrey.
Yancey hesitated only briefly then walked across, Wyatt at his heels. Blayne sat in the surrey seat, watching, unmoving. He flicked cold, pale blue eyes over Yancey’s tall frame when the Enforcer stopped beside the surrey. Then his lips moved in a smile but it was a mechanical motion and his eyes remained cold.
“Won’t keep you long, Bannerman,” he said in a deep voice. “John Cato a pard of yours?”
“What about it?” Yancey asked curtly and Blayne held up a placating hand.
“No need for alarm. Just waited to know a few things about him.”
“Like what?”
“Well, is it true he once saved your life?”
That surprised Yancey and he frowned before nodding slowly. “Several times.”
“Good. Then you must feel indebted to him.”
“Sure. But it’s see-sawed back and forth some. I’ve saved his life a couple of times, too.”
“But you still owe him?” Blayne insisted.
“We don’t think of ‘owing’ each other anything, Blayne. We’re closer than that. Now what’s this all about?” Yancey’s face was hard, voice steel-edged.
Wyatt was tense and alert but Steve Blayne still seemed relaxed enough in his seat. “It’s quite simple, really,” he told the Enforcer. “Cato owes me some money and can’t pay. I’m just contacting a few of his friends to see if any of them are willing to go to bat for him.”
Yancey was as taut as an iron rod now, his jaw jutting, eyes pinched down. “What’s he owe you money for, Blayne?”
“The reason doesn’t matter,” Blayne said, waving the question aside. “The point is he owes it to me and I want to make sure I can collect. If not from him personally, then from some of his friends. You seem to be head of the list.”
“How much?”
“Aw, I won’t embarrass Cato by spreadin’ the word on that just yet. I’m a reasonable man. I’ll give him a little time. Just playing it cautious and making sure there’s some sort of back-up. You did say you’d back him, didn’t you, Bannerman?”
“Go to hell, Blayne,” Yancey told him grimly. “I’d have to know a hell of a lot more about this and hear it from Cato himself before I’d say one way or the other.”
Blayne sighed but his eyes were colder than ever. He shifted his gaze a little and shook his head slightly. Yancey stepped back and to one side, right hand dropping to his gun butt as he spun to face Wyatt. The man’s face was pale and ugly with anticipation of a gunfight but Blayne shook his head again, frowning deeper.
“Any time you want, Wyatt,” Yancey told him in a low voice.
“Fine with me!” snapped the gunfighter.
“I said no!” Blayne snapped and he glared at Wyatt until the man forced himself to relax and his breath hissed out between his slightly parted lips.
“You’ll keep, Bannerman. I’ve been wantin’ to meet you for quite a spell.”
“That’s the difference,” Yancey told him. “I’ve no hankerin’ to meet you. I’d as lief pick up a rattler as shake hands with you.” He flicked his icy stare to Blayne, “And lay off Cato, mister. He’s a friend of mine, like you say. If he’s in trouble, I’ll back him.” He slapped a hand to gun butt, startling Wyatt. “With this.”
He raked them both with a final stare, then heeled and strode on across the plaza. Wyatt was quivering in his eagerness to draw on Yancey.
“Climb in, Waco,” Blayne ordered quietly, picking up the reins. “Forget Bannerman. We can’t use him. But we found out what we want to know. Cato’s our meat.”
Waco Wyatt reluctantly climbed up beside his boss and Steve Blayne flicked the reins and drove off in the opposite direction to the one taken by Yancey.
~*~
Johnny Cato nearly jumped out of his skin when the door of the room slammed open as if it was being kicked off its hinges. The half-dressed girl gave a squeal of alarm and pressed back against the wall as Yancey stormed in. Cato bounced up off the bed and Yancey straight-armed him, knocking him back violently, reached past him and grabbed the frightened saloon girl.
She started to scream and fight as he dragged her over towards the door and he lifted her bodily, tossed her out into the passage and then slammed the door on her cries and curses, turning the key in the lock. Cato, face white with anger, came up off the bed and lunged across the room to stand in front of Yancey, quivering, fists knotted.
“What in hell d’you think you’re doin’, Yance!”
Yancey looked past him, saw the whisky bottles on the bedside table, Cato’s shirt and gun belt over the back of a chair, his boots in a corner. The big Enforcer, mouth pressed into a tight, razor-thin line, shoved Cato roughly back until the man’s legs hit the edge of the bed and he was forced to sit down. As he made to get up again, angrily, Yancey shoved him back.
“Judas, Johnny, what’s wrong with you?” bawled Yancey. “You try to get up one more time and I’ll slug you, pard! I mean it! You sit there and listen to me or we’re gonna have one hell of a falling-out, I’m telling’ you!”
Cato sat down on the bed, breathing hard, glaring up at Yancey, reeking of whisky. He flicked his eyes to his gun-rig on the chair, the holster bulging with the massive weight of the Manstopper, his special gun that fired forty-five cartridges and a twelve-gauge shot-shell through a second, underslung barrel. Then he looked back at the savagely angry Yancey.
“I’m damned if I know what to say,” Yancey growled. “I feel like smashing your bonehead through the wall!”
“What’s wrong with you?” demanded Cato.
“Steve Blayne’s what’s wrong with me!”
Cato blinked, frowning, obviously genuinely puzzled. “Who’s he?”
Yancey started to retort, controlled himself and forced himself to speak in a normal voice. “He’s one tough hombre. I met him in the plaza earlier today and since then I’ve done a heap of checking on him. He’s a snake, Johnny, and he’s backed up by a killer named Waco Wyatt.”
“Wyatt I know. Leastways, I’ve heard of him,” Cato said quietly. “But I dunno this Steve Blayne. And I’m damned if I know why you come in here like a maniac and throw out my gal.”
“Even without Blayne I’d have done that,” Yancey told him sourly. “After all your assurances to Marnie and me.”
Cato looked uncomfortable. “Oh, I guess you found out about some gamblin’ I did.”
“Yeah, I found out. For one thing, you only owed Vella fifty bucks and you used that extra twenty-five I gave you to play some more. And lose to him again! But that didn’t stop you. You wrote another I.O.U. You’ve written several since and I hear you’re in debt to the tune of hundreds.”
Cato clamped his lips tightly together and looked up defiantly at Yancey. “I told you it was worse than boozin’!”
“It sure as hell is. But it’s a lot worse than you know, mister. You don’t owe Vella anything anymore.”
Cato stared in puzzlement for a few moments and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Ah, hell, Yance, that was decent of you. Damned decent! Now don’t you worry, I’ll square away with you. You’ll get your money back.”
“I didn’t pay your I.O.U.s,” Yancey said harshly.
Cato blinked. “But—but I don’t savvy this. You just said I don’t owe Vella anythin’.”
“Right. You owe it all, plus some mighty stiff interest, to Steve Blayne. He’s bought up your I.O.U.s from Vella, and every other gambler around who you owed money to. He’s even taken over your feed bill at the livery which you ain’t paid for weeks. Same as he’s paid the rent on your room. But you owe it all to him. You’re in debt to him to the tune of well over a thousand bucks now, amigo. How do you like that, huh?”
Cato didn’t like it at all, in fact, couldn’t swallow it at first. But then he knew Yancey wouldn’t joke about a thing like this and he had sure been on the prod when he had stormed in here and thrown that gal out.
“Why in hell would this Blayne want to buy up my I.O.U.s?” Cato asked finally.
“Your guess is as good as mine, but I hear tell that he’s been buying up other hombres’ debts, too. Not just here in Austin, but from all over. Sounds to me like he aims to have a lot of hard hombres in his power.” Yancey’s voice hardened. “And you’re in a mighty dangerous position, Johnny. If he uses those debts to pressure you, he could have you doing almost anything.”
“Like hell!” Cato growled. “I’ll go and see him and—”
“And what?” snapped Yancey. “Ask for ’em back? Only way you’ll get ’em is to square up what you owe and mebbe that won’t be enough, either. He might not want you to redeem them.”
Cato frowned. “You’re sayin’ he’s gonna put pressure on me with those notes to force me to do somethin’ he wants?”
“That’s my guess. And you work for the governor, remember.”
Cato snapped his head up. “Get off that, Yance. You’ve used that before with me and I told you there’s nothin’ to worry about. I wouldn’t harm Dukes under any circumstances.”
Yancey stared coldly at him. “Just like you wouldn’t cheat on Marnie or gamble with Vella anymore?”
Cato flushed and stood up and roughly knocked aside Yancey’s arm as the big man made to thrust him back down. “I’ve had enough of you shovin’ me around, Yance! Fact, I’ve had about enough of this whole damn town and the people in it! Hell, can’t you leave a man be? I’ve got problems, sure; well, for hell’s sake let me work ’em out! I don’t need you for a nursemaid nor anyone else, either!”
“You need someone ridin’ herd on you. Look at the trouble you’re in by playin’ the lone rider! I’m not sure I could get you out of this even if I felt like trying.”
“Well, no one’s asking you!” Cato snapped and shoved Yancey so hard that the bigger man stumbled. “Now get the hell out of my way—out of the room—out of my life! I’ll work things out my own way!”
“You’re doing a great job so far.”
Cato growled something deep in his throat and shoved past Yancey to get at the table where the whisky was. He splashed some of the liquor into a glass and tossed it down. He poured and drank two more shots in as many seconds. Yancey frowned and walked over, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Cato whirled and struck his hand away.
Yancey held his temper with difficulty. “Johnny, I’ve tried to get through to you. I’ve tried to help. But you won’t let me, you won’t really take me into your confidence. Now, I admit I’m damn savage about the way you’ve been treating Marnie and for letting yourself get in such a position with gambling, but forget all that. If you’re in real trouble and need my help, all you’ve got to do is ask. No, don’t even ask. Tell me what’s behind this and if I can see a way of lending a hand I will. What d’you say, amigo?”
Cato’s eyes were warm with friendship, but only momentarily. Almost immediately they closed down and became chill and remote again as he poured yet another drink and tossed it down.
“Yancey, just get the hell out of here and leave me be,” he said without heat, but it seemed to have more impact because of that. “It’s my deal. All the way. No one else’s. I’ll handle it. My way.”
Their gazes met and held and Yancey could see that Cato was in one of his stubborn moods and nothing would shift him.
“You’re gonna hurt a lot of folk, Johnny. Includin’ yourself.”
“My worry, not yours!”
Yancey sighed. “Then I guess that’s it. We got no more to say to each other.”
“Suits me,” Cato said tightly, his bleak stare unwavering.
Yancey gave him a curt nod and heeled sharply, striding to the door and unlocking it. He paused with his hand on the latch, looked at Cato.
The smaller Enforcer was already pouring another drink. He tossed it down as Yancey opened the door and stepped out into the passage.