‘Come this way, please, Mr. Smith,’ requested the lanky, miserable-featured bank teller with an air of solemn politeness.
The time was ten o’clock on the morning after Smith’s arrival in Widow’s Creek and he had come to interview his prospective employer.
After Stanley Jeffreys’ departure, the Texan had spent an enjoyable evening at the Happy Bull saloon. Receiving no other introduction than ‘Mr. Wax Smith of Texas,’ he had been accepted by the other customers. In fact, he had been accorded their respect when it had become obvious that he was regarded favorably by Lily Shivers. Although he had heard plenty about the various sporting and social events proposed for the forthcoming county fair, he had received no hint of why the mayor might require his specialized services.
When Smith had suggested that Wil Jeffreys might come and complain about the disrespect shown to his younger brother, there had been much hilarity. He had been assured that the mayor would never think of entering a saloon. Wishing to avoid arousing Lily’s suspicions, Smith had let the matter drop. Probably Jeffreys belonged to one of the religious sects which disapproved of drinking and other pleasures connected with saloons. Putting off further attempts at obtaining information about the mayor, Smith had settled down to enjoy himself.
Having spent a comfortable night at the Simple Hotel, Smith had risen late. He had breakfasted, made use of the hotel’s barber’s shop and, neatly-dressed and clean-shaven, set off to meet the mayor. Remembering that Wil Jeffreys was also the banker, he had called in at the bank. On seeing the telegraph message which had brought him to Wyoming, the teller had hurried into a room with ‘W.S.P. JEFFREYS. President’ inscribed on its door.
Going through the gate in the front office’s dividing rail, Smith wondered what kind of reception he would receive from the banker. If Brother Stanley had gone home tale-telling and described Lily’s protector, Jeffreys would probably identify Smith as that man. In view of the enmity between the banker and Lily, he might even decide against hiring the Texan. In which case, Smith decided, he would be justified in retaining his advance payment.
Entering the bank president’s spacious, comfortably furnished office, Smith found another reason, besides religious objections, why Wil Jeffreys would not go into a saloon. Looking across the large desk which faced the door, he flashed up his right hand to remove his hat.
‘Well, Mr. Smith,’ said the mayor of Widow’s Creek. ‘Now that you have seen me, do you object to being hired by a woman?’
Coal-black hair, taken back tight into an unattractive bun, could not wipe away the beauty of Wilhemina Jeffreys’ face. She had schooled her classic features into an expression of coldly serious aspect, but they were tanned and glowed with health. An unadorned black Basque-waist jacket, as severe as a martinet Army officer’s regulation tunic, a plain white blouse, and a black balmoral skirt fought to conceal the fact that feminine curves lay underneath them. Yet Smith sensed that the garments hid something most women would, secretly anyway, wish to possess; a figure as rich, full and voluptuous as Lily Shivers’ gorgeous frame. Clean, strong hands devoid of jewelry and with the nails cut short, rested on the top of the desk. Brown eyes looked from behind gold-rimmed spectacles, examining the Texan with as much interest as he studied her.
‘Well,’ Wil Jeffreys went on, after a moment. ‘Do you?’
‘Why should I?’ Smith countered. ‘Do you print your own money?’
‘I beg your pardon!’ Wil ejaculated, snapping her gaze from his gloves to the bronzed, unsmiling face.
‘Lady,’ Smith drawled. ‘As long as you pay in good ol’ United States dollars, I don’t care whether it’s a woman or a man who hires me.’
Once more Wil’s eyes flashed over Smith. There was nothing of a woman looking at a man in her scrutiny, any more than he found any sign of femininity in the office. While well- and comfortably-furnished, the room was clearly a place in which men conducted business. There were neither flowers on the desk, nor dainty drapes at the windows; nothing to suggest that the mayor and bank president belonged to the weaker sex.
‘Sit down, please,’ Wil said and it came as an order despite the third word. Pushing across a cigar box, she went on, ‘You may smoke if you wish.’
‘Gracias,’ Smith replied, taking a cigar from the box and crackling it between his left thumb and second finger.
‘You approve?’ Wil inquired as he bit off the end of the cigar and lit it with the candle of the match-case fastened to the box.
‘It’s a good cigar. My mother knew good tobacco and always used to pick cigars for pappy.’
‘But, disregarding my choice of cigars, you’re surprised to find out I’m a woman?’
‘Some,’ Smith admitted.
‘You believe that a woman’s place should be in the home?’ Wil challenged.
‘Happen I’d ever given thought to it,’ Smith drawled, ‘I’d say she’d know best where she should be. And what she’s best suited to doing.’
‘That’s male condescension.’
‘I thought it makes good sense. Happen a woman can’t cook, sew and tend to a wife’s chores, she’d be better off out of the home.’
Stiffening on her hard, straight-backed chair, Wil sucked in a deep breath. She took off her glasses, glared at Smith and said, ‘I’m a very good cook and I make or mend my clothes when the need arises, quite adequately too.’
‘I’m not gainsaying it, ma’am,’ the Texan replied.
‘Let’s get down to business!’ Wil suggested haughtily. ‘I understand that you are an experienced peace officer, loyal to your employers, tactful and capable.’
‘I couldn’t’ve put it better myself.’
‘These are facts, Mr. Smith, not compliments. You also have a reputation for direct action, considerable skill in handling weapons and people—and no exaggerated ideas of the sanctity of human life.’
‘If that means I’m willing to kill anybody who looks like he aims to kill me, it’s a fact, not a compliment,’ Smith answered. ‘Maybe you’d best tell me what I’m here for.’
‘Does it matter?’ Wil asked, laying her spectacles on the desk. ‘I thought you would take any work if the price was right.’
‘Only if it doesn’t involve heavy toting—and’s legal ‘n’ honest.’
‘That pays you back for riling me about a woman’s place,’ Wil smiled.
That smile changed her own face and showed its full beauty. Then it went as quickly as it had come, leaving the cold, impassive mask.
‘The work is legal and honest, although it may involve you in heavy toting, carrying drunks to jail. I want to employ you as part of the town’s special police force during the week of the county fair.’
‘You don’t have any law of your own?’
‘We do,’ Wil admitted, a touch defiantly. ‘And I may say that, under normal conditions, our marshal runs an efficient office.’
‘Then why—?’
‘Do you object to taking his place?’
‘Lady. For what you’re going to pay me, I don’t give a damn about it.’
‘But you’re still curious,’ Wil insisted.
‘A mite,’ Smith conceded.
‘I feel that the local officers would not be able to enforce the law adequately during the fair because they are just that, local men with homes and friends in Widow’s Greek,’ Wil enlarged. ‘So I have arranged that they be sent on vacation and am bringing in men with no local connections—or friends—to run the law for the week. Does that clarify the situation?’
‘Well enough,’ Smith admitted, seeing the lady mayor’s reasons more clearly and wondering if the town marshal had an equal understanding of her motives. ‘You-all said I’d be part of a special police force. Who’re the rest of it?’
There was a knock at the door on the left side of the room; presumably the one from which Lily had seen Hardy emerging. Excusing herself, Wil rose and went to open it. She admitted a tall, handsome man about Smith’s age. Dressed like a successful professional gambler, he wore a silver-concha decorated gunbelt with a pearl-handled Colt Civilian Peacemaker in a low-hanging Missouri Skintite holster.
‘I’ve sent for five good men, Mr. Smith,’ Wil stated and indicated the newcomer. ‘This is Talbot Ottoway, the first of them to arrive.’
‘Howdy, Wax,’ Ottaway greeted, white teeth gleaming in a smile which did not reach his eyes. ‘Long time no see.’
‘Could be I’ve always seen you first, Mister Ottaway,’ Smith replied, remaining seated and ignoring the other’s extended right hand.
‘I believe that you both left the Texas Rangers about the same time,’ Wil remarked as she returned to her seat.
‘Same time, different reasons,’ Smith replied. ‘I left with a clean record.’
There was no doubting the animosity of the two men. Ottaway’s smile faded and he darted a glance at Wil, then swung his attention back to Smith.
‘So did I!’ Ottaway growled. ‘And I can go back to Texas if I want to.’
‘Gentlemen!’ Wil snapped, slapping her left palm on the desk’s top. ‘I’m not particularly interested in your pasts. Nor do I expect your previous differences of opinion to affect the services I’m buying. If I’m speaking too plainly, say so.’
‘You’re talking good sense, W— Miss Jeffreys,’ Ottaway assured her and Smith kept quiet.
‘Very well,’ Wil said, without looking at the tall, seated Texan. ‘As he arrived first, I thought that Mr. Ottaway should act as marshal.’
‘Thanks for the cigar,’ Smith said, shoving back his chair ready to rise.
‘You don’t agree with my suggestion?’ Wil inquired.
‘I flat-out refuse it,’ Smith stated, coming to his feet.
‘Hell. There’s no sense in stomping out in a tiz, Wax,’ Ottaway put in and dipped his right hand into his jacket’s side pocket. ‘I’m game to take a chance if you are.’
‘What kind of a chance?’ Smith asked cautiously, slipping off his right glove and staring pointedly at the other man’s jacket pocket.
‘We’ll spin a coin for it,’ Ottaway suggested, producing a nickel and balancing it on his thumb and forefinger. ‘Call it, Wax. If you win, you’re marshal.’
‘How do you feel about it, Miss Jeffreys?’ Smith inquired.
‘Go ahead, if it will settle things,’ Wil authorized.
Propelled by Ottaway’s thumb, the coin flipped spinning into the air. Smith waited until it reached the apex of its flight, then called, ‘Tails!’
A flicker of annoyance crossed Ottaway’s face. Stabbing out his right hand, he caught the coin and dropped it, without looking at it, into his pocket. Once more the friendly, mouth-only smile came to his face.
‘I only said it to see if you’d take a chance, Wax,’ the man announced and looked at Wil. ‘Anyways, ma’am, it wouldn’t be right for me to be over him. He was a sergeant in the Rangers and I never made higher than private.’
‘And there’s nothing but “tails” on that nickel,’ Smith went on.
‘Huh?’ Wil gasped, showing emotion for the second time since the Texan had entered the office.
‘It’s an old trick, ma’am,’ Smith continued. ‘He makes the offer and spins the coin, counting on me doing like maybe ninety-nine folks out of a hundred and saying “Heads”. When I didn’t, he caught it and made out he’d only been funning.’
‘Is that true, Mr. Ottaway?’ Wil demanded.
For several seconds, Ottaway did not reply. Hatred showed on his face, although only an experienced reader of human emotions might have detected it. Smith had the necessary experience. So he stood with a relaxed attitude which did not fool the other man. There was an unspoken, open challenge in the Texan’s demeanor all too plain to anybody who knew Waxahachie Smith—and Ottaway had bitter reason to know him. It had been Smith’s findings which caused Ottaway to be ‘requested’ to hand in his resignation from the Texas Rangers. If the Fuentes brothers had not intervened, Ottaway knew that the resignation would have been a dismissal and probably worse.
Ottaway faced a difficult decision. To answer in the negative would amount to calling Smith a liar. There was only one reply to that. Looking at Smith’s bare right hand, Ottaway recalled the speed with which it could once draw and shoot a Colt. Nor had Smith lost his skill, if all the rumors making the rounds be true. Sucking in a breath, Ottaway reached a decision. Forcing an ingratiating smile to his lips, he nodded his head.
‘Sure. Only it’s not such an old trick. Seeing’s Wax caught me out good and square, I’m willing to work under him. You’re smarter than I thought, Wax.’
‘You’re not, Mr. Ottaway,’ Smith replied and sat down, but he did not replace the glove. ‘Who’re the other fellers you’ve asked, ma’am?’
‘Frank Straw—’ Wil began.
‘He won’t be coming,’ Smith commented. ‘Didn’t you know that he’d took lead in that railroad fuss over to Kansas?’
‘No!’ Wil admitted.
‘Wasn’t you in that same fuss, Mr. Ottaway?’ Smith challenged.
‘Frank must’ve got his after I’d pulled out,’ Ottaway replied. ‘And I don’t recall hearing about it happening.’
‘Then Mr. Straw won’t be here,’ Wil said, eyeing Ottaway in a coldly calculating manner. ‘The other two are C. B. Frith, who has wired his confirmation, and Seaborn Tragg.’
‘I’ve never had dealings with Frith,’ Smith remarked. ‘But Seaborn Tragg’s married up and gone to live peaceable down to Rockabye County, Texas.’
‘So old Seaborn’s give up being a tin-star, has he,’ Ottaway put in with false joviality. ‘I’d’ve thought being a John-Law runs in the Tragg family’s blood.’ v
‘The question is,’ Wil said, ignoring the comment, ‘do you gentlemen think that three of you can handle the work, or shall I try to bring in more men?’
‘I don’t see that it’ll need so all-fired many more,’ Smith declared. ‘The town’s not Dodge City, nor even Laramie’s far’s size goes. Against that, you’ve laid on races for horses, chuck-wagons and fellers on foot. There’s roping contests and a prizefight among her things that’ll bring in the cheaters and sharks. On top of them, you’ll have the town packed out with visitors all aiming to have a good time. There’ll be work in plenty, but three of us ought to be able to handle it. What do you reckon, Ottaway?’
‘Being a man who likes to sleep now and then, I’d go for two or three more,’ Ottaway replied. ‘Leave us not forget Governor Moonlight and some important folk’re coming. They need careful watching.’
That’s true,’ Wil admitted. ‘In addition to the Governor, Mr. Smith, there will be members of the Congressional Committee which is examining Wyoming’s request to be made a State. If they see the fair carried off peacefully and without trouble, it will be a big point in our favor.’
Before any more could be said, the door through which Smith had entered the office was opened.
‘Hey, sis,’ greeted Stanley Jeffreys, strolling in. ‘I heard Tal Otta—’ He slammed to a halt, the words trailing away as he caught sight of Smith. Stabbing his left forefinger in the Texan’s direction, he demanded, ‘What’s this jasper doing here?’
‘Mr. Smith is one of the men I’ve brought in to keep the peace during the fair,’ Wil answered, her chilly tone showing that she disapproved of the intrusion.
‘You know him from some place, Stan?’ Ottaway inquired.
‘He was at the Happy Bull last night—!’ Jeffreys commenced.
‘Make sure the rest of it’s as truthful as that,’ Smith advised.
‘Well, Stanley?’ Wil demanded when her brother showed a reluctance to continue with his statement.
‘Seems strange, way you and her don’t get along,’ Jeffreys finally announced. ‘Him and Lily Shivers was acting real friendly.’
‘That’s right enough, ma’am, ’cept it was more friendly than real,’ Smith confirmed. ‘One thing you should know. No matter whose pay I’m drawing, I pick my own friends.’
‘Even if the friends’ interests clash with those of your employer?’ Wil asked, eyes looking with the Texan’s.
‘If they do, I change my friends—or employers,’ Smith declared. ‘Only not necessarily in that order.’
‘It needn’t come to that,’ Wil stated. ‘My feelings towards Li—Miss Shivers are personal and involve only the two of us. Did you want to see me, Stanley?’
‘Like I told you,’ Jeffreys answered, ‘old Ryall said that Tal was in here. So I came in to ask him when he’s going to let me win the five dollars back that he took from me pitching horseshoes yesterday.’
‘We won’t be long,’ Wil told him.
Listening to her, Smith formed the impression that she did not approve of her brother’s friendship with Ottaway. That might be caused by nothing more than snobbery, but he felt that Wil showed right good sense. From what he had seen of Jeffreys, Smith doubted if the young man approached the lady banker in the matter of intelligence. Let a self-opinionated yack like him keep company with a man of Ottaway’s kind and he would be liable to wind up in bad trouble. Smith figured it was none of his affair and kept the thoughts to himself.
‘Well, gentlemen,’ Wil went on. ‘I would like to reach a decision as the fair starts on Monday. We only have five days left. Do we need extra men?’
‘I’ve been around town for longer than you, Wax,’ Ottaway remarked. ‘And I say we do.’
‘I’m listening,’ Smith replied.
‘So far there’s been no trouble around here between the farmers and ranchers. But some of ’em are fixing to homestead north of the Big Elk Fork. While Moonlight’s down here’d be a good chance for the nesters to rile up the cowhands. Then the Grange can start screeching about what bad hombres the ranchers are.’
‘That’s one of the reasons I tried to hire you five gentlemen,’ Wil admitted. ‘Poona Woodstole and Charlie Hopkirk won’t sit back and let homesteaders take the land they’ve developed and paid for. So, if nesters cross the Fork, there’ll be trouble which won’t stay outside town.’
‘Likely,’ Smith agreed. ‘Only I don’t see how we can stop it happening.’
‘I’ve called a meeting between the ranchers and the head of the Grange in this area. They’re all reasonable men and know what’s at stake. It’s the hot-heads and agitators we have to watch for. Not on the range, but in town, stirring up bad feelings. That’s where you come in. I’m counting on you to keep things peaceable.’
‘Where do the extra men come from?’ Smith asked.
‘I hoped that you—and Mr. Ottaway—could help me hire them.’
‘Won’t your local officers give up their vacations and help?’
‘No, Mr. Smith,’ Wil replied and, for a moment, she looked embarrassed. ‘It’s been suggested, but they—’
‘Don’t cotton to the notion of working with hired guns,’ Smith finished for her when the words tailed off. ‘Can’t say’s how I blame them for it, ma’am. I don’t myself.’
‘Can you help raise the men?’ Wil insisted.
‘There’s not a heap of time for us to gather ’em,’ Smith pointed out and, on an impulse continued, ‘I might be able to raise one man, though.’
‘Do I know him?’ Ottaway asked.
‘How would I know who you know?’ Smith countered. ‘Thing being, I know him.’
‘That’s a good recommendation,’ Jeffreys sniffed, ‘going by the quality of some of your friends.’
‘That’s enough, Stanley!’ Wil snapped.
‘Boy’s got something stuck in his craw, it’s better out,’ Smith drawled, eyeing Jeffreys with cold disdain. ‘Could be, happen I met ’em, I’d not reckon much to his choice of friends. And, you rile me too much, I’m liable to tell your sister just how we met at the Happy Bull.’
‘All right, Wax,’ Ottaway drawled as Jeffreys relapsed into a sulky silence. ‘We’ll count your amigo in. Come on, Stan. Let’s you and me go around town to see if anybody’s come in who’s worth hiring— We’ll let you see ’em first, Miss Jeffreys.’
‘Sure,’ Jeffreys agreed. ‘I might even take the job myself. Let’s go.’
Watching Wil’s lips tighten, Smith knew that he had read her earlier emotions correctly. Yet, although she clearly disapproved of her brother’s association with Ottaway, she made no attempt to stop him leaving with the other man. Letting out a low sigh as the door closed, the girl turned a mask-like face to the Texan.
‘When can you start, Mr. Smith?’
‘As soon as we’ve talked about money.’
‘One hundred dollars on top of the two hundred I’ve already advanced for the week. Your accommodation, ammunition and reasonable expenses covered by the town. If you take any wanted men, the reward money goes whichever way you and the other officers decide to deal with it.’
‘Sounds reasonable,’ Smith admitted. ‘How much do I get for working the rest of this week?’
‘Another hundred and the same terms,’ Wil offered.
‘You’ve just hired a man,’ Smith declared.
‘Arid this friend of yours?’ Wil wanted to know.
‘I reckon he’ll come in,’ Smith replied with a grin. ‘He reckons to be a pretty good salesman.’
‘I’ll not ask what that means,’ Wil decided, without smiling. Opening the top drawer of her desk, she took out a marshal’s badge and a bible. ‘If you’re ready, I’ll swear you in now.’
‘How about your regular marshal?’
‘He agreed to start his vacation from the time I appointed a temporary successor.’
Taking the badge, Smith pinned it on to his vest’s left breast. He tried to recall how many times he had performed such an act since taking up his new profession. With his right hand on the bible and left raised, he repeated the oath of office after Wil. One thing he knew for sure. No matter how she tried to hide it, he had never been sworn in by a prettier person. Not until the ceremony had ended did he realize that Wil had not put on her spectacles before reading the words for him to repeat.
‘Excuse me, Miss Jeffreys,’ the teller said, poking his head around the door after knocking. ‘Mr. Hopkirk and Mr. Wood-stole are waiting to see you.’
‘Ask them to come in,’ the girl replied. ‘Don’t go, Mr. Smith. I would like you to meet these two gentlemen.’
Smith nodded his agreement. That suggestion had saved him trying to invent an excuse to remain. He wanted to meet Poona Woodstole, whose name had been on a message carried by a man sent to kill him.