Tiff Lanagan called a halt to his men in front of the Wheeler house. With him were Boyd Gruver, Tommy Wheeler, and two cowboys called Link and Billy O. There at the front door of the cabin stood Lark and Spud. Lark held an old seven-shot Spencer carbine, Spud, a sawed-off American Arms 12-gauge shotgun.
“Just take it easy, boys,” said Lanagan.
Spud raised the shotgun. He was looking at Tommy. Then his eyes shifted to stare hard at Lanagan.
“What happened to my brother?” he said.
“A couple of my cowboys caught him on my range and beat him up,” said Lanagan. “They’ve been fired.”
“I’m sorry, Lark,” said Tommy. “I know you told me not to go there.”
“It’s okay, Tommy. Dora told you to go. I know,” said Lark. “You had a reason. Now come on down off or your horse and come over here.”
“You ain’t mad at me?”
“No, I ain’t mad. Come on over here.”
Tommy dismounted slowly and walked hesitantly over to stand by Lark’s side. He turned and looked back at the four mounted men.
“I ought to kill you, Lanagan, while you’re sitting here,” said Spud.
“Shut up, Spud,” Lark snapped. “What happened, Tommy?”
“They roped me and beat me up,” said Tommy, “just like he said. Then they got fired, and she washed my face and fixed me up.”
“Who?”
“The lady. She was nice.”
“He’s referring to my wife,” said Lanagan.
“What did you come up here for?” said Lark.
“Your brother said I was asked to come up here. He said that Colfax is inside—shot.”
“The son of a bitch is in there, all right,” said Spud.
“You need three men with you?” asked Lark.
“You never know.”
Lark lowered the carbine. He looked at Tommy and put a hand on the back of the young man’s head.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Hell, Lark, I’m okay.”
“Put the shotgun away, Spud,” said Lark. He handed the carbine to Tommy. “Put this away for me, will you? Lanagan, you all climb on down. You can put your horses in there.”
Lanagan and the three cowboys led their horses to the small corral toward which Lark Wheeler had gestured. Then, while Billy O. and Link lounged nervously around the corral, Lanagan, followed closely by Gruver, walked over to Lark Wheeler.
“Your man’s in there asleep,” said Lark. “He ain’t hurt bad, I don’t think, but he’s bled a lot. He’ll take some rest to get back in shape.”
“What happened?” asked Lanagan.
“I wasn’t here. Dora—that’s my wife—she said that he come down here shot up. Told her he’d killed two men up the hill. The shot raked him along the side. Dora, she put a poultice on it. That’s all I know.”
“If Colfax went gunning for those men up there,” said Lanagan, “then he must be satisfied they’re rustlers. And if you helped him and sent your brother down to my place for help, then I’m satisfied that you’re not. lowe you an apology, Wheeler. Not many men have ever got one of them out of me.”
The front door opened and Dora stepped out. She was wiping her hands on a thin, faded towel.
“You Mr. Lanagan?” she said.
“I am.”
“He’s awake, your Mr. Colfax.”
Wheeler turned to hold the door open.
“Come on in, Lanagan,” he said.
Lanagan followed Dora Wheeler into the cabin. Spud was sitting at the table, scowling. Tommy was at a chair against the far wall with a rag, dusting off his boots. Colfax was in the bed against the wall to Lanagan’s right as he came into the room. Lanagan looked around, then walked to the bed.
“How are you?” he said.
“I’ll be all right,” said Colfax, “thanks to these people.”
“What happened?”
“That bunch up the hill are your rustlers, all right. No question about it. I had a cowhide that I found up there.”
“It’s outside,” said Tommy. “You want me to get it?”
“Thanks, Tommy,” said Colfax. “Give it to Mr. Gruver. Anyhow, they’ve moved a bunch of cows out of there just lately. They’re the ones. These folks here, the Wheelers, they’re clean.”
“I figured that,” said Lanagan. “So you’re satisfied that we got the goods on Youngblood and his bunch?”
“I’m satisfied.”
“All right, Colfax,” said Lanagan. “Then that’s good enough for me. You want us to take you down to the ranch?”
“He’d better not go yet,” said Dora. “He ought to rest up a bit more. Maybe in the morning.”
Colfax looked at his nurse and smiled. He did feel weak yet, and the pain still burned in his side.
“She’s probably right,” he said. “I’ll get up and head down there in the morning. If I make it all right, I’ll get back to work tomorrow afternoon.”
“Well,” said Lanagan, “there’s no hurry on that. Don’t rush it. I want to leave a couple of men here until you come down. Is that all right with you, Wheeler?”
“What the hell for?” said Spud Wheeler before Lark had the chance to answer.
“What if Youngblood and that bunch comes back and finds him here?” said Lanagan. “What’ll they do to you if they find Colfax here and he’s just gunned two of their cronies?”
“He’s right, Spud,” said Lark. “If it was just me and you, I’d say to hell with them, but I don’t want to take no chances with Dora and Tommy here.”
“Youngblood and them won’t be back for another day or two,” said Spud.
Lanagan turned on Spud. Apparently a little suspicion of the Wheelers still lingered in his mind, and Spud’s remark triggered it.
“How do you know that?” he said.
“We don’t know,” said Lark. “But we’ve seen them head out with cattle before, and each time they’ve been gone at least four days. Judging from the past, Spud’s probably right. But like I said, we can’t be sure. I’d appreciate you leaving your men here.”
“Hell,” said Spud, “there’s only four of them left. Colfax killed two of them.”
“Five,” said Colfax. “I almost forgot to mention something. Rondo Hughes is one of them.”
“Goddamn,” said Boyd Gruver, who had remained silent up until then, “I knew it. I knew it all along.”
“Let’s go, Boyd,” said Lanagan. “Colfax, we’ll look for you tomorrow at the ranch.”
Gruver left, and Lanagan had followed him almost out the door. He stopped and turned back to face Colfax again.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “There’s been more killing in town. Two more of them actors. Granger and, uh, Tabor, I think their names was. Just thought you’d want to know.”
Granger and Tabor. So Potter wasn’t killed because he was black. Someone’s killing actors. Potter just happened to be the first one. Colfax struggled to assimilate the new information with what he already had in his mind. He would have to take a new aim. Killing actors. Who would want to kill actors? It didn’t make any sense. But Potter, Granger, and Tabor. Three actors murdered. Damn, he thought, I never considered that possibility. I was off on the wrong track right from the start. Then another thought came to him. If someone was out there murdering actors, there were a number of actors left in Pullman who could become the next victims. He needed to get back to Pullman, had to warn them, to try to protect those who remained. Dort sure wasn’t going to be any help, not really. He raised himself up on his right elbow and tried to sit up, but the pain flashed through his body and a sudden burst of red light filled his field of vision.
“Ah,” he shouted, as he fell back into the pillow.
“Damn fool,” said Lark Wheeler. He was alongside his wife, Dora, within seconds after they heard Colfax shout with pain. “Trying to get up like that.”
Dora put a hand on Colfax’s forehead. She and Lark stood quietly for a moment, watching and listening.
“He’s asleep now,” she said.
“Asleep, hell,” said Lark. “He’s passed out.”
Lark walked to the door and opened it.
“Where you going?” asked Dora.
“Just outside, Dora. You need anything, just holler.” He went out and pulled the door shut behind himself. Link and Billy O. were leaning against the corral fence looking as if they felt lost. He walked over to join them.
“Billy O.,” said Lark. “How you doing?”
“Oh, can’t complain none, Lark.”
“I ain’t never met your pal here.”
“Oh. Well, this here’s Link Calvin. He’s a Texan. Pretty good cowboy, for a Texan.”
“Shit,” said Link, drawing the word out into three syllables.
Wheeler extended his hand, and the Texan shook it.
“So you boys got left here to wet-nurse Colfax, huh?”
“I reckon,” said Billy O.
“Well, just make yourselves at home. We’ll have some fresh coffee out here directly. When suppertime comes around, you all will eat with us.”
“Thanks, Lark. That’s good of you, considering the way the old man has treated you all this time,” said Billy O.
Lark Wheeler leaned back against the top rail of the fence, lining up with the two other cowboys.
“That’s all behind us now,” he said. He reached into a shirt pocket and produced a sack of Bull Durham and a package of papers and offered them to Billy O. Billy O. took them, peeled off a paper, and poured some tobacco into it, then passed them on to Link, who also indulged before returning them to their owner. Soon the three cowboys were smoking.
“Say, Wheeler,” said Link. “Do you really think that Youngblood bunch won’t make it back before we get Colfax down the hill?”
“I don’t think they will. You never know, though.”
“That’s right,” said Billy O., “you never know.”
Wheeler took a long drag on his cigarette.
“If they do come back before then,” he said, “I don’t want anyone here getting killed if we can avoid it. Chances are, if they come riding by here, they’ll keep right on going. They don’t actually come making social calls very often.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Billy O. “I’ll just be glad when we get him on down the hill.”
Lark Wheeler took a last drag off his cigarette and tossed it away.
“You won’t be half as glad as I will,” he said.