Jo Ashenfeldt and hang around till I get there.” His eyes snapped back to Gurden. “Close up.
In this town Chip Gurden was one-third of the law and he was not in the habit of taking orders from anyone. His reaction was instant. “Now look — ”
Frank cut him off. “Take it up with Krantz or Arnold. I want this crowd out of here in three minutes.”
Gurden’s look swelled with hate. “If you think — ”
“Clear this place,” Frank said, “or I’ll do it.” He felt the man’s fury swirling round him like a fog, but in the end Chip threw a hand up and his housemen got the exodus started. One of his aprons climbed up on the bar and started putting out lamps. Frank nodded at the Squatting O punchers and they picked Brackley up and joined the departing customers.
When the most of them were out Frank said to the Opal’s proprietor, “We’ll go into your office and you can show me that lien.”
“Go to hell!” Gurden snarled and went into the back room, slamming the door.
Frank was minded to follow but Chavez came in with a double-barreled shotgun. Frank sent him after the furniture man, who was all the coroner they had in these parts. Frank had cooled some by then and decided to shelve the matter of Brackley’s plaster until he could secure reliable opinions on the signature.
Leaving the place, he went back to the street and got onto the dun and sat a while, frowning. Then he picked up his reins and rode over to Ben Holliday’s furniture place. There was a light at the back, and he got down and went in. Brackley was stretched out alongside Joe’s body but the pair who had fetched him were nowhere in sight.
• • •
Back at Chip Gurden’s the new bouncer, Mousetrap, stepped into the office and carefully shut the bar door. Gurden, eyeing the man bleakly, hauled a bottle off his desk and helped himself to a snort. He was putting it down when somebody’s knuckles rattled against the back door. Mousetrap raised the hairy black of his eyebrows and, at Gurden’s nod, went across to open it.
Kelly slipped in, twistedly grinning at the sight of the derringer disappearing up Chip’s sleeve. “I warned you he was tough.”
Mousetrap said, “I kin handle that feller.”
“Why didn’t you do it when he was growlin’ over Brackley?”
Gurden said, “Shut up — both of you.” He nodded at the whisky. Mousetrap passed and Kelly, eying the man derisively, caught up the bottle and lowered its level by a third. He set it down, smacking his mouth. Gurden said, “You tried for him yet?”
“Thought you was payin’ to get that took care of.”
“Where
is
that damn Tularosa?”
“Ain’t nobody payin’ me to keep cases.”
“You know what I told you — ”
“Give Tularosa a chance,” Kelly grumbled. “He sure as hell took care of Brackley.
Gurden brushed that aside. “I want Frank put out of the way, and I got no time to waste foolin’ around, either. You get after him, Kelly. Right away. Tonight.”
“I already made one try,” Kelly said. “It didn’t come off. I hit his damn saddle.”
Gurden fished a fresh stogie from his flower-embroidered vest. “What’s the matter? You get buck fever? You got the best chance of anyone. You could walk right up and ram a gun in his — ”
“That’s what you think. I was around when a guy tried that on him once — ”
“But you’re his
friend
. Damn it, Kelly!”
“If he thinks so much of me howcome I ain’t his deppity? I done everything but git right down on my knees.”
“You think he suspects you?”
The teamster said uncomfortably, “How the hell could he?” but there was sweat on his lip.
Gurden struck a match and tipped it under his cigar. Through the smoke coming out of his mouth, he said, “You ain’t handled it right. I’ll think up a way.” He put more smoke around him, rolling the stogie back and forth across his mouth. “Anything’ll come out right if a man will put his mind to it.” A contemplative look
In this town Chip Gurden was one-third of the law and he was not in the habit of taking orders from anyone. His reaction was instant. “Now look — ”
Frank cut him off. “Take it up with Krantz or Arnold. I want this crowd out of here in three minutes.”
Gurden’s look swelled with hate. “If you think — ”
“Clear this place,” Frank said, “or I’ll do it.” He felt the man’s fury swirling round him like a fog, but in the end Chip threw a hand up and his housemen got the exodus started. One of his aprons climbed up on the bar and started putting out lamps. Frank nodded at the Squatting O punchers and they picked Brackley up and joined the departing customers.
When the most of them were out Frank said to the Opal’s proprietor, “We’ll go into your office and you can show me that lien.”
“Go to hell!” Gurden snarled and went into the back room, slamming the door.
Frank was minded to follow but Chavez came in with a double-barreled shotgun. Frank sent him after the furniture man, who was all the coroner they had in these parts. Frank had cooled some by then and decided to shelve the matter of Brackley’s plaster until he could secure reliable opinions on the signature.
Leaving the place, he went back to the street and got onto the dun and sat a while, frowning. Then he picked up his reins and rode over to Ben Holliday’s furniture place. There was a light at the back, and he got down and went in. Brackley was stretched out alongside Joe’s body but the pair who had fetched him were nowhere in sight.
• • •
Back at Chip Gurden’s the new bouncer, Mousetrap, stepped into the office and carefully shut the bar door. Gurden, eyeing the man bleakly, hauled a bottle off his desk and helped himself to a snort. He was putting it down when somebody’s knuckles rattled against the back door. Mousetrap raised the hairy black of his eyebrows and, at Gurden’s nod, went across to open it.
Kelly slipped in, twistedly grinning at the sight of the derringer disappearing up Chip’s sleeve. “I warned you he was tough.”
Mousetrap said, “I kin handle that feller.”
“Why didn’t you do it when he was growlin’ over Brackley?”
Gurden said, “Shut up — both of you.” He nodded at the whisky. Mousetrap passed and Kelly, eying the man derisively, caught up the bottle and lowered its level by a third. He set it down, smacking his mouth. Gurden said, “You tried for him yet?”
“Thought you was payin’ to get that took care of.”
“Where
is
that damn Tularosa?”
“Ain’t nobody payin’ me to keep cases.”
“You know what I told you — ”
“Give Tularosa a chance,” Kelly grumbled. “He sure as hell took care of Brackley.
Gurden brushed that aside. “I want Frank put out of the way, and I got no time to waste foolin’ around, either. You get after him, Kelly. Right away. Tonight.”
“I already made one try,” Kelly said. “It didn’t come off. I hit his damn saddle.”
Gurden fished a fresh stogie from his flower-embroidered vest. “What’s the matter? You get buck fever? You got the best chance of anyone. You could walk right up and ram a gun in his — ”
“That’s what you think. I was around when a guy tried that on him once — ”
“But you’re his
friend
. Damn it, Kelly!”
“If he thinks so much of me howcome I ain’t his deppity? I done everything but git right down on my knees.”
“You think he suspects you?”
The teamster said uncomfortably, “How the hell could he?” but there was sweat on his lip.
Gurden struck a match and tipped it under his cigar. Through the smoke coming out of his mouth, he said, “You ain’t handled it right. I’ll think up a way.” He put more smoke around him, rolling the stogie back and forth across his mouth. “Anything’ll come out right if a man will put his mind to it.” A contemplative look
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