CHAPTER THIRTY
Hank Cobb stepped through the door onto the boardwalk, followed by Mink Morrow, who’d cleared his frockcoat from his gun.
Shawn’s eyes were on the slope of the ridge above town where knots of people were bent over, as though they searched for something. A single rifleman kept a wary eye on them, like a prison guard over a chain gang.
He exchanged a puzzled glance with Ford Platt, who shrugged and shook his head.
Shawn was still in the saddle, but Shel Shannon stood in front of his horse, the rope around his neck attached to Platt’s saddle horn.
Cobb glanced at Shannon, and then his eyes flicked to Shawn.
“What’s your deal, O’Brien?” he said.
“It should be obvious even to you, Cobb,” Shawn said. “Give me Wolfden and I’ll return your village idiot.”
“I’m sorry, boss,” Shannon said, blinking. “I was took by surprise.”
“He was took by surprise at your woman’s place, Cobb,” Shawn said. “That was a mite careless of you, leaving her around like that.”
“He took Ruby too, boss,” Shannon said. His tongue touched his bottom lip. “O’Brien had the drop on me and I couldn’t stop him.”
“Hell, the woman means nothing to me,” Cobb said. “A belly-warmer on a cold night is all. Keep her and welcome.”
“Well, what’s your answer to my proposition?” Shawn said.
He had a tight knot in the pit of his belly. Where were the rest of Cobb’s men?
Cobb rubbed his chin and stared across the street at the white-painted storefronts that stood silent and forlorn like a flock of hobbled geese.
“I’m studying on it,” he said. “I’m a slow-considering man.”
“Boss!” Shannon yelled, a squawk of shocked disbelief and fear. “O’Brien plans to kill me if you don’t give him Wolfden.”
“I said I’m studying on it, Shel,” Cobb said. He tugged on his earlobe. “I’m trying to figure how much you mean to me. So far I’m telling myself that it ain’t a whole lot.”
“One way or the other, don’t take too long, Cobb,” Shawn said. “I’m not a patient man.”
Shawn’s eyes flicked to Morrow.
“You must be Mink Morrow,” he said.
“I must be. And you’re Shawn O’Brien,” Morrow said.
“My brother talked about you,” Shawn said.
“Jake?”
Morrow saw Shawn nod and said, “Is he still playing the piano?”
“Last I heard.”
“He should. He has a rare gift.”
“You taking a hand in this, Morrow?” Shawn said.
“I don’t know yet. Like Hank, I’m a man who makes slow business decisions.”
“But fast draws.”
Morrow smiled and his glasses caught the sunlight and glittered.
“Did Jake tell you that?” he said.
“Him and others. When you make your decision, I hope you make the right one,” Shawn said.
Like Morrow, he’d cleared his Colt and the gunman knew he wasn’t dealing with a pushover. No brother of Jake O’Brien’s could be a bargain.
“When I do, you’ll be the first to know, O’Brien,” he said.
Cobb didn’t want Shawn O’Brien to follow his eyes, so he bowed his head as though the low sun troubled him and stole a quick, flickering glance at the street.
Good. His men were in position.
“I’ve made up my mind, O’Brien,” he said.
Shawn was on edge and beside him Platt tensed, sudden alarm showing tight in his face.
“Let’s hear it, Cobb,” Shawn said.
Cobb drew and fired.
Shel Shannon stood still for a moment, and then stared at the red rose blossoming in the middle of his chest.
“Boss . . .” he said. “Boss . . . why?”
His made a sound as though he choked down a sob, then fell to the ground, his dead eyes wide open, still unbelieving.
“No deal, O’Brien,” Cobb said.
Behind Shawn Winchesters racked and he knew the game was rigged and he’d been outsmarted.
He’d staked everything on Shannon, but the man had proven to be the joker in the pack and now Cobb lay down his cards and confirmed it.
“Hell, O’Brien, did you really think I’d dicker for a piece of worthless crap like Shel Shannon?” he said. “Did you figure to play me for a fool?”
A bitter taste in his mouth, Shawn said nothing.
Cobb gave an exaggerated shake of his head.
“Damn it, man, you’re an even bigger idiot than Shannon was.”
He looked beyond Shawn and said, “Walsh, Dorian, relieve these gentlemen of their guns. Bowen, keep them covered.”
His eyes moved to Platt. “What the hell kind of little rat are you?”
Platt smiled and seemed almost relaxed. But he went for it.
His hand streaked under his coat, but the rifle muzzle shoved under his rib cage and the grinning face of the rifleman looking up at him, froze him in place.
“You’re even more stupid than O’Brien,” Cobb said as the little man was relieved of his gun.
“Seems like, doesn’t it?” Platt said.
“Walsh, Dorian, now assist the gentlemen from their mounts,” Cobb said.
Shawn and Platt were dragged from their saddles and Cobb motioned with his gun toward the office door.
“Get inside,” he said.
“Still haven’t made up your mind, huh?” Shawn said to Morrow.
“I’d say that right now you boys aren’t doing so great. I reckon I’ll stand pat,” the gunfighter said. “You must’ve known trying to trade with Hank Cobb was a dunghill play.”
“If we didn’t know it before, we surely know it now,” Shawn said.
Shawn O’Brien, a rifle prodding him, stepped into the sheriff’s office and the sight of Jasper Wolfden bloody and unconscious on the floor hit him like a kick in the teeth.
He swung on Cobb, who had Platt by the back of the neck, pushing him inside.
“Did you do this, you damned animal?” Shawn said.
“Yeah, I sure did, and I ain’t finished with him yet,” Cobb said.
He looked pleased with himself, like the man who found the hundred dollar bill in a huckster’s bar of soap.
The man’s smug expression enraged Shawn and he made a lunge for Cobb’s throat.
But before he’d taken a step Walsh’s rifle butt thudded into the back of his neck and drove him to the floor.
Cobb straddled Shawn and lifted his shoulders from the floor by his coat lapels. “O’Brien, you escaped from my jail once before,” he said. “You won’t do it a second time.”
Shawn tried to get his blurry eyes in focus, failed, but muttered, “You go to hell.”
Cobb backhanded him viciously across the face and a lace of blood and saliva spurted from Shawn’s mouth.
“I love cutting hard cases like you down to size.” Cobb grinned. “Now grovel on the floor where you belong.”
He let go of Shawn, then Ford Platt said, “Cobb, be warned—I’ll live to see you hang.”
“Mister, you won’t live to see the moon come up tonight,” Cobb said.
He turned to his gunmen. “Put these two in a cell.” Then, with a gesture of the head toward Wolfden, “After you’ve done that, mix up a bucket of salt and water and throw it on his back.”
“And bring him inside?”
Dorian, slack jawed and slow of wit, had asked the obvious.
“Yeah. Put him in a cell with the other two for a spell. Let them enjoy his stink before I start on him again.”
“Can I watch this time, boss, huh?” Dorian said.
“Sure, Lee, and you can even take a turn with the bullwhip.” Cobb grinned, showing his teeth. “Cutting a man to doll rags tires a person, don’t it?”