TWENTY-TWO
“That why you wanted to come here?” Dolan asked Santee when they were in the cantina. “To see your daughter?”
“It is one reason.”
“You old bandit,” the Irishman said. “I didn’t think you had a heart.”
“We all have hearts, senor,” Santee said. “It is when they stop beating that we are in trouble.”
“Santee, sometimes I think yer as smart as me own mother,” Dolan said, laughing.
“She was a wise woman?”
“She was a dirty whore,” Dolan said, “but yeah, she was a wise woman.”
At that moment Ed Grey and Billy Ludlow came busting through the door. Grey’s eyes were ablaze as he set them on Dolan. He came rushing across the room, but, before he could do anything stupid, Santee stood up and stopped him.
“He will kill you, Ed,” Santee said. “Don’t be foolish.”
“I’m better with a gun than he is,” Grey said.
“That is probably true,” Santee said, “but Dolan is a man who kills for the pleasure of it. He would surely kill you before you could do him any harm.”
“He’s right, Ed,” Ludlow said, coming up behind him. “Come on, let’s go to the bar and get a beer.”
Grey looked at Dolan, who was grinning up at him.
“Go ahead, Ed,” Dolan said, “have a beer. I’m buyin’.”
Grey hesitated, then allowed himself to be pulled away by Ludlow. Santee sat down.
“You plannin’ on seein’ the girl while we’re here?” Dolan asked, as if Grey and Ludlow had never interrupted them.
“No.”
“So you just wanted to lay your eyes on her?”
“Sí.”
“So you’re not wantin’ to stay here?”
“No,” Santee said, “we can move on—unless you want to stay.”
“Is there a bigger town up ahead?”
“Sí, many bigger.”
“Then we’ll move on,” Dolan said, “but first I want to leave a message for my friend, McBeth.”
“A message?”
“Yes,” Dolan said, “you know a couple of good men in this town?”
“Good . . . how?”
“Oh, I don’t mean religious, or anything like that,” Dolan said, “I mean pretty good with a gun.”
“There are a few.”
“We only need two.”
“You want them to kill McBeth?”
“Oh, no,” Dolan said, “I am going to do that myself, for sure.”
“Then what—”
“Like I said,” Dolan replied, cutting him off, “I just want to leave him a little message.”
Santee brought two men to the cantina to see Dolan, then joined Grey and Ludlow at the bar.
“What’s goin’ on?” Ludlow asked.
“I do not know,” Santee said. “He wanted two men, I brought him two men.”
“He gonna have them kill that lawman that’s been followin’ him?” Grey asked.
“He says no,” Santee replied. “He says he wants to leave McBeth a message.” When Santee said the name, it sounded like two names—Mack-Beth.
“He just wants to play with him a little,” Ludlow said.
“If this man McBeth is the man Dolan says he is,” Santee replied, “then he is sending these two hombres to their graves.”
“These Irishmen can’t handle a gun worth a damn,” Ed Grey said. “They got no draw.”
“It is not the man who draws his gun the fastest who lives,” Santee said. “It is the man who shoots the straightest.”
“Well, I do both,” Grey said. “He wants that Irish lawman handled, he should leave it to me.”
“Oh, he wants that one for himself.”
As they watched, Dolan passed some money over to the two men Santee had brought in. They put their sombreros back on and left the cantina.
“Drink up,” Santee said. “I believe we are leaving.”
“Hey,” Grey said, “I wanted to see about the local cathouse—”
“We ain’t stayin’?” Ludlow asked.
“We are not staying,” Santee said. He looked at Grey. “There will be plenty of women in the next town, Ed. Plenty of them.”