Murder in Dogleg City by Ford Fargo Page B

shook his head. “Oh, there’s a
mess all right, and you can help me clean it up, but not like you
think.”
    “ I—I don’t
understand.”
    Sam pulled his own chair around from
behind his desk, so he could sit beside Rupe.
    “ Let me ask you something,
Rupe. I’ve been good to you, haven’t I? Wouldn’t you say I’ve
treated you fair?”
    Rupe’s eyes seemed to clear after a
moment, and he gained some focus. He nodded slowly.
    “ Oh, Lord, yes, Marshal. I
reckon you’ve treated me better than anybody in this town. You were
the first one took me in off the street, and gave me honest
work—without laughing at me, or making sport. And you bein’ a
famous lawman, that—that kinda made it mean even more. You didn’t
have to be nice to me.”
    The marshal reflected on Rupe’s words
for a moment. “Well, I don’t know about that last part. The higher
a man goes up, the more he knows how far a man can fall. And
besides that, I know people, Rupe. You have to, in this job. And
I’ve always seen a spark in you. I’m not quite sure what it is, but
it’s there. There’s more to you than meets the eye.”
    Rupe’s eyes misted for a moment, then
he said, “Where’s that mess you wanted me to mop up,
Marshal?”
    Sam shook his head and smiled. “No, I
need something else from you today, Rupe. I need you to tell me
about last night—last night down in Cribtown. Quint found you
passed out there this morning, and seems you’d been out for a good
spell. What do you remember, from before you passed out? Do you
know what time you got there?”
    Rupe’s eyes lost their focus, and he
seemed dizzy. He shook his head as if he were trying to clear the
cobwebs.
    “ Rupe? Take your time,
now. Just think.
    A look of horror passed over the
drunk’s face. He looked slowly up at Sam.
    “ I never—I never killed
nobody, Marshal.”
    Sam’s eyes narrowed. “I know you
didn’t, Rupe. I never said anything about killing anybody. Why did
you say that?”
    Rupe looked confused. “I don’t—I ain’t
sure why I said that. It just, sort of, come out.”
    “ What do you
remember?”
    “ I don’t remember
anything—honest, Marshal. I’d tell you if I did. I
just—there’s something , I can’t tell what it is, there’s something in my
mind.”
    Rupe squeezed his eyes tight and
concentrated. His hands shook with the effort.
    “ I’m sorry, Marshal. I’m—I
just—I can’t remember .”
    Sam sighed. “It’s all
right, Rupe. I believe you. It’ll come to you directly. But just in
case you did see
something—something you were never meant to see—well, you’d best
stay here for awhile, where it’s safe, while you finish sleeping it
off.”
    Rupe looked crestfallen—quite an
accomplishment, considering how low he usually was to begin with.
“Are you puttin’ me in jail, Sam?”
    Sam stared at him for several seconds.
“No, Rupe,” he finally said. “You can sleep it off on my cot, in
the back room. I’m going to be out, probably pretty late, it won’t
be an imposition to me.”
    To Sam’s surprise, Rupe almost smiled.
“Thank you, Marshal.” Then a shadow passed over his face. “I hope—I
hope I don’t stink it up too much.”
    “ Don’t worry on that
account. I’ll have it cleaned—and send Dab Henry the bill.” They
both smiled at that.
    “ Get along then,” Sam
said. “And stay put till I send for you.”
    Rupe stumbled into the back room and
collapsed onto the cot. In no time he was snoring deeply. He had
bad dreams, dreams of terror and death, thinly disguised
memories—but they had nothing to do with the previous night. They
were about a previous life.
    * * *
    Sam decided to stop by the barber shop
across the street and get a shave before he headed to the saloons.
The town’s only barber, John Hix, knew his business—but he had a
bad habit of disappearing from town for days on end with no
explanation. Sam was content to take advantage of his presence when
he was around—a man could