now.”
“Wind’s swingin’ around.” Kelly brought the gray blob of his face back to Frank. “Heard about that. Won’t be no use to you. Ain’t nobody goin’ to take orders from no halfbreed.”
Frank stared down at him uncomfortably. He was tugged one way by ties of past friendship, dragged another by allegiance to the man he had hired. There was some truth in Kelly’s words; Chavez would put some people’s backs up. Town Council had ought to be thought about too. Frank could use them both till he got shut of Tularosa. But he could hardly afford to hire Kelly out of pocket.
Seeming almost to read Frank’s thoughts the man said, “Hell, I’ll work for nothin’. Glad to string along till these damn cows quit comin’ through here.” He let go of the dun, stepping back like it was settled. Frank said, thinking of Settles, “I can’t just kick Chavez out like a dog.”
A note of resentment put an edge on Kelly’s voice. “Never mind. I ain’t quitting a good thing to play second fiddle to no Mex. If I don’t rate top spot with you — ” He seemed to catch himself then. He made an irritable gesture. “What I mean — Damn it, you got Will Church down on you. Gurden’s still riled about that killer gettin’ loose. Krantz hates your guts. Now, with this pair of yaps you’ve latched onto — ”
“What you mean,” Frank said, “is that I’ve made a fine hash of this.”
“I never said that!”
“You might just as well have. It’s the truth.”
Kelly stared up at him, hugging his coat, edging back more to get out of the wind. “Hell, you know what this town is! All I was tryin’ to say is you’ve mebbe bit off more than one guy can handle — ”
“Hickok’s handling Abilene.”
“Hickok!” yowled Kelly. “What you need’s
help —
a friend at your back, another gun you can count on.”
“I ain’t heard of Bat Masterson hiring any bodyguard.”
“You think you can gun-whip this town into line? Talk sense, damn it to hell!”
“Does it make sense for you to quit a soft job to go with a man who’s apt to get burnt down before he’s two hours older?” Frank picked up his reins. “I’ve got to get moving.”
Kelly followed him, the gale at their backs now. “Swingin’ into the southwest — we’re like to hev weather.” He relapsed into silence, hanging onto Frank’s stirrup.
At the Bon Ton Frank wheeled the dun around. Keeping to a pattern was just asking for trouble; Snob Hollow could look after itself for a spell. Coming into the light from the New York Cafe he got hold of Kelly’s hand and grimly pushed the man’s fingers across the swell of his saddle, across the ripped place where the bullet had struck. Kelly jerked back like he’d touched a snake.
Frank looked down at him with inscrutable eyes. “That leather won’t bite. Be thankful, old friend, you ain’t called on to help.”
The teamster twisted his head against the slap of the wind. They were passing Ben’s Furniture before he got enough breath back to make himself heard. “Tularosa?”
Frank shrugged. He seemed to be catching the habit from Chavez. “Him, or another. Don’t make much difference to a stiff whose slug tags it.”
They were opposite the jail, hardly ten strides from Gurden’s batwings when Kelly pulled up. “Mebbe I better be turnin’ off here. I — ”
The hammering explosions of two shots, one climbing hard over the heels of the other, barreled through Kelly’s words. Both men flung startled looks at the Opal. Frank, sending the dun forward, was out of the saddle on skidding bootheels, catching at a porch post, smashing into the half-leaf doors. Two more shots, slamming the doors, drove him back. He had no further thought for Kelly. He dropped flat to the porch planks, palming his gun, firing beneath the doors at the gangling shape diving through a side window. One of the doors jerked over Frank’s head but he was already coming off of the boards, throwing himself
“Wind’s swingin’ around.” Kelly brought the gray blob of his face back to Frank. “Heard about that. Won’t be no use to you. Ain’t nobody goin’ to take orders from no halfbreed.”
Frank stared down at him uncomfortably. He was tugged one way by ties of past friendship, dragged another by allegiance to the man he had hired. There was some truth in Kelly’s words; Chavez would put some people’s backs up. Town Council had ought to be thought about too. Frank could use them both till he got shut of Tularosa. But he could hardly afford to hire Kelly out of pocket.
Seeming almost to read Frank’s thoughts the man said, “Hell, I’ll work for nothin’. Glad to string along till these damn cows quit comin’ through here.” He let go of the dun, stepping back like it was settled. Frank said, thinking of Settles, “I can’t just kick Chavez out like a dog.”
A note of resentment put an edge on Kelly’s voice. “Never mind. I ain’t quitting a good thing to play second fiddle to no Mex. If I don’t rate top spot with you — ” He seemed to catch himself then. He made an irritable gesture. “What I mean — Damn it, you got Will Church down on you. Gurden’s still riled about that killer gettin’ loose. Krantz hates your guts. Now, with this pair of yaps you’ve latched onto — ”
“What you mean,” Frank said, “is that I’ve made a fine hash of this.”
“I never said that!”
“You might just as well have. It’s the truth.”
Kelly stared up at him, hugging his coat, edging back more to get out of the wind. “Hell, you know what this town is! All I was tryin’ to say is you’ve mebbe bit off more than one guy can handle — ”
“Hickok’s handling Abilene.”
“Hickok!” yowled Kelly. “What you need’s
help —
a friend at your back, another gun you can count on.”
“I ain’t heard of Bat Masterson hiring any bodyguard.”
“You think you can gun-whip this town into line? Talk sense, damn it to hell!”
“Does it make sense for you to quit a soft job to go with a man who’s apt to get burnt down before he’s two hours older?” Frank picked up his reins. “I’ve got to get moving.”
Kelly followed him, the gale at their backs now. “Swingin’ into the southwest — we’re like to hev weather.” He relapsed into silence, hanging onto Frank’s stirrup.
At the Bon Ton Frank wheeled the dun around. Keeping to a pattern was just asking for trouble; Snob Hollow could look after itself for a spell. Coming into the light from the New York Cafe he got hold of Kelly’s hand and grimly pushed the man’s fingers across the swell of his saddle, across the ripped place where the bullet had struck. Kelly jerked back like he’d touched a snake.
Frank looked down at him with inscrutable eyes. “That leather won’t bite. Be thankful, old friend, you ain’t called on to help.”
The teamster twisted his head against the slap of the wind. They were passing Ben’s Furniture before he got enough breath back to make himself heard. “Tularosa?”
Frank shrugged. He seemed to be catching the habit from Chavez. “Him, or another. Don’t make much difference to a stiff whose slug tags it.”
They were opposite the jail, hardly ten strides from Gurden’s batwings when Kelly pulled up. “Mebbe I better be turnin’ off here. I — ”
The hammering explosions of two shots, one climbing hard over the heels of the other, barreled through Kelly’s words. Both men flung startled looks at the Opal. Frank, sending the dun forward, was out of the saddle on skidding bootheels, catching at a porch post, smashing into the half-leaf doors. Two more shots, slamming the doors, drove him back. He had no further thought for Kelly. He dropped flat to the porch planks, palming his gun, firing beneath the doors at the gangling shape diving through a side window. One of the doors jerked over Frank’s head but he was already coming off of the boards, throwing himself
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