Dark Trail by Ed Gorman

it’s really eight.”
    â€œEight,” the man said, “my.”
    They were now at the east edge of the park. Babies in buggies were being pushed by pretty young mothers in long skirts and aprons. Five-and six-year-olds climbed trees and swings and chutey-chutes with the stealth of monkeys.
    Frank stopped walking and asked, “You got a name?”
    â€œNow don’t go getting mad, Mr. Evans.”
    â€œYou heard me. Your name.”
    â€œHollister. Walter Hollister.” Instead of offering his hand, the man put a small white business card in Frank’s fingers.
    Frank pretended to read the card. “What do you want with me?”
    â€œBusiness.”
    â€œBusiness? What kind of business?”
    â€œVery profitable business, Mr. Evans. At least potentially.” Hollister pointed to the northern edge of the park. “Have you seen the zoo?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt’s not much, just a camel and a fox and a very old lion, but why don’t we go take a look? Give us someplace to walk to as we talk.”
    â€œI still want to know what kind of business you’re talking about?” Frank didn’t move.
    Hollister looked right at him and said, “I’m going to give you a perfectly legal chance to kill Ben Rittenauer and collect ten thousand dollars cash for doing so.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you talking about, mister?”
    â€œLet’s walk over to the zoo and I’ll tell you.”
    The camel was pathetic: scraggly and filthy and fly-bothered. He switched his tail like a horse.
    Frank and Hollister stood looking at him inside his rope corral. He was ground-tied and obviously not going anywhere—poor bastard had neither the strength nor the gumption.
    Hollister had explained it to Frank once and now Frank was having him go back through it again.
    â€œYou say it’s legal?”
    â€œPerfectly legal. There’ll be a couple hundred witnesses to say it was a fair fight.”
    Lately, the closer the calendar got to the turn of the century, the harder the law was getting on gunfighters, charging them with murder.
    â€œPlus you’ve got Tom Adair backing you up. Do you seriously suppose that any town marshal or judge is going to question Tom Adair?”
    â€œI suppose not.”
    â€œAnd then there’s the matter of ten thousand dollars cash.”
    The thought of such money almost made him giddy. For the entire year they’d been together, he’d been promising Beth to take her to Frisco. With that much money, he’d take her a lot of other places, too. Their relationship could be what it had been at the beginning. She was a girl to have fun with, to be young with. All you needed to keep her happy was money.
    â€œYou talked to Rittenauer about this?”
    â€œNot yet. But I will very soon. Mr. Adair would like the fight to be this evening.”
    Frank whistled. ‘That don’t leave us much time.”
    â€œYou’re interested then, Mr. Evans?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œThen I can count on you being at the Box Y?”
    â€œIf Rittenauer’s there.”
    â€œI’ll go talk to Rittenauer now and then get back with you.”
    â€œFine.”
    Hollister smiled. “May I be honest, Mr. Evans?”
    â€œBe my guest.”
    â€œI guess I figured you’d be the tough one to convince.”
    â€œOh. How’s that?”
    â€œWell, you know Ben Rittenauer’s reputation.”
    â€œI see. You’re saying he’s faster than me?”
    â€œI’m saying that’s his reputation. And you did sort of help yourself to his woman.”
    â€œYou trying to get me to change my mind?”
    â€œI just want you to be sure. I don’t want to promise Mr. Adair something I can’t deliver.”
    â€œIf Rittenauer’s there at five, I’ll be there at five.”
    Hollister glanced over at the broken-down camel and shook his head. “Almost feel