fudgin’ years?”
“We just never got around to it before,” I said. I wasn’t even trying to be a wiseass this time. It was the only answer I could give that wouldn’t take an hour to get out.
Ragsdale raised his hand again—and this time he was making a fist. “There ain’t no special reason, ya bastard,” Gustav said. “I just finally had to come back, and that’s all there is to it.”
Ragsdale dropped his hand. “I told you these motherfudgers had squat,” he said to Bock. “Can we be done here?”
“The picture,” Bock said.
“What about it?”
Bock nodded at Honest Abe watching over the proceedings with his sad, empty eyes.
“Oh. Fudge. Yeah,” Ragsdale said. “ That picture.”
“You know, don’t you?” my brother muttered. “You dirty sons of bitches know who killed Adeline and you’re tryin’ to—”
Ragsdale drove a fist into his stomach.
Old Red oofed and doubled over and grabbed his gut with both hands.
I reached out to help steady him.
Something cold and hard pressed against the side of my head.
“Back.”
I did as I was told, but the cold spot—the muzzle of Stonewall’s Colt—stayed against my skull.
Ragsdale had one more question—and when he was done, it seemed, so were we.
“When it was just you two and Bess,” Ragsdale said, “how’d you know someone was fudgin’ watchin’? And don’t say it was just cuz that fudgin’ lard-ass kept callin’ me and Gil ‘mister.’”
“Adeline,” Gustav wheezed. “She told me there was a room y’all used when you wanted to peep on folks at the Eagle. For blackmail and…‘special requests,’ she called it. Wasn’t much of a stretch to guess you’d have one in your new pl—”
“Oh, don’t worry, honey!” a new voice cut in, and I heard the door swing open behind me. “I’m always welcome to use the Bridal…shit.”
Then that cold spot on my temple came in real handy, actually, for the moment Stonewall turned to look over his shoulder, I felt it waver.
I shot up my left hand, snagged Stonewall’s wrist, and pushed the gun toward the ceiling. My right hand, meanwhile, was busy bloodying Stonewall’s nose.
The Peacemaker spat a slug upward, and a puff of gunsmoke surrounded us. The recoil made it all the easier to pry the gun from Stonewall’s grip, and when I had it firm in hand, I gave it back to him. Over the top of his head.
Stonewall went down like the walls of Jericho.
“Come on!” Old Red hollered, and through the gray haze around me I could see him charging toward the doorway—and the extremely slender, extremely shocked customer standing there with an equally stunned floozy by his side.
My brother darted between them, but I (being about twice as broad across) had no such option. So I went over them.
Ever the gentleman, I made way for the woman as much as I could…which meant I gave the man the worst of it. I got a good look into his goggling eyes before he bounced off my chest and disappeared beneath my feet. He had the leather-tough look of someone who doesn’t usually let folks walk all over him, and I couldn’t help but notice (as I stepped on it) that he had a holstered gun at his side.
“Stop ’em!” Ragsdale roared. “Don’t let those motherfudgers get away!”
I looked back just long enough to spray the hallway with lead. All of it toward the ceiling, of course—no killer of innocent (or not so innocent) bystanders am I. Still, the barrage was enough to clear the hallway and keep it clear. When the Colt was emptied, I tossed it aside and went bounding down the stairs after my brother.
“Some drover just went crazy and shot Stonewall!” I wailed at the top of my sizable lungs. “And the SOB’s reloadin’!”
If the Phoenix had been merry chaos before, now it was panicked chaos multiplied by bedlam plus anarchy squared.
Women screamed. Men screamed. A few brave souls rushed past us up the stairs. Another, much larger bunch stampeded for the exit. Still
“We just never got around to it before,” I said. I wasn’t even trying to be a wiseass this time. It was the only answer I could give that wouldn’t take an hour to get out.
Ragsdale raised his hand again—and this time he was making a fist. “There ain’t no special reason, ya bastard,” Gustav said. “I just finally had to come back, and that’s all there is to it.”
Ragsdale dropped his hand. “I told you these motherfudgers had squat,” he said to Bock. “Can we be done here?”
“The picture,” Bock said.
“What about it?”
Bock nodded at Honest Abe watching over the proceedings with his sad, empty eyes.
“Oh. Fudge. Yeah,” Ragsdale said. “ That picture.”
“You know, don’t you?” my brother muttered. “You dirty sons of bitches know who killed Adeline and you’re tryin’ to—”
Ragsdale drove a fist into his stomach.
Old Red oofed and doubled over and grabbed his gut with both hands.
I reached out to help steady him.
Something cold and hard pressed against the side of my head.
“Back.”
I did as I was told, but the cold spot—the muzzle of Stonewall’s Colt—stayed against my skull.
Ragsdale had one more question—and when he was done, it seemed, so were we.
“When it was just you two and Bess,” Ragsdale said, “how’d you know someone was fudgin’ watchin’? And don’t say it was just cuz that fudgin’ lard-ass kept callin’ me and Gil ‘mister.’”
“Adeline,” Gustav wheezed. “She told me there was a room y’all used when you wanted to peep on folks at the Eagle. For blackmail and…‘special requests,’ she called it. Wasn’t much of a stretch to guess you’d have one in your new pl—”
“Oh, don’t worry, honey!” a new voice cut in, and I heard the door swing open behind me. “I’m always welcome to use the Bridal…shit.”
Then that cold spot on my temple came in real handy, actually, for the moment Stonewall turned to look over his shoulder, I felt it waver.
I shot up my left hand, snagged Stonewall’s wrist, and pushed the gun toward the ceiling. My right hand, meanwhile, was busy bloodying Stonewall’s nose.
The Peacemaker spat a slug upward, and a puff of gunsmoke surrounded us. The recoil made it all the easier to pry the gun from Stonewall’s grip, and when I had it firm in hand, I gave it back to him. Over the top of his head.
Stonewall went down like the walls of Jericho.
“Come on!” Old Red hollered, and through the gray haze around me I could see him charging toward the doorway—and the extremely slender, extremely shocked customer standing there with an equally stunned floozy by his side.
My brother darted between them, but I (being about twice as broad across) had no such option. So I went over them.
Ever the gentleman, I made way for the woman as much as I could…which meant I gave the man the worst of it. I got a good look into his goggling eyes before he bounced off my chest and disappeared beneath my feet. He had the leather-tough look of someone who doesn’t usually let folks walk all over him, and I couldn’t help but notice (as I stepped on it) that he had a holstered gun at his side.
“Stop ’em!” Ragsdale roared. “Don’t let those motherfudgers get away!”
I looked back just long enough to spray the hallway with lead. All of it toward the ceiling, of course—no killer of innocent (or not so innocent) bystanders am I. Still, the barrage was enough to clear the hallway and keep it clear. When the Colt was emptied, I tossed it aside and went bounding down the stairs after my brother.
“Some drover just went crazy and shot Stonewall!” I wailed at the top of my sizable lungs. “And the SOB’s reloadin’!”
If the Phoenix had been merry chaos before, now it was panicked chaos multiplied by bedlam plus anarchy squared.
Women screamed. Men screamed. A few brave souls rushed past us up the stairs. Another, much larger bunch stampeded for the exit. Still
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