The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume Six (25 page)

“This kid isn’t good enough,” Satneck protested. “The fans won’t go for it. They’ll think he’s just a flash in the pan and it won’t draw!”

Johnson looked around at the sportswriters and asked, “What about that?”

“If Bernie will forgive me,” Hansen of the
Telegraph
said quietly, “I think he’s crazy! A Tandy Moore and Stan Reiser fight will outdraw either of them with the champ, as long as we mention that the winner goes for the title. It’s a natural if there ever was one.”

“Frankly,” Coe said quietly, “I can understand how Satneck must feel. After all, he’s brought Reiser a long way, and it seems a shame to get his fighter whipped when the title is almost in his hands.”

“Whipped?” Satneck whirled on Coe. “Why, that stinking little…” He looked at Tandy and his voice faded out and he flushed.

“I’d
like
to fight him,” Tandy said, pleasantly enough. “I’d like nothing better than to get Reiser where he could take a poke at me when my back’s not turned!”

Johnson and several of the sportswriters sat forward.

Reiser’s face went dead-white but his eyes were thoughtful. He turned to his manager.

“Sign it!” he snapped. “Let’s get out of here!”

Satneck glanced from Stan’s face to Tandy’s, and then at Gus, who was grinning mysteriously.

“What was that about?” the reporters asked, but Tandy just shook his head. Without another word, he grabbed the fountain pen that Johnson offered and signed.

A
T THE HOTEL
that night, when Tandy was in bed, Briggs and Gus sat in Gus’s room. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“I dug it up,” Briggs said quietly “An’ don’t worry, Tandy’s okay. His old man was a rummy, he worked down here at the factory by the bridge. He was a better than fair street-scrapper when sober. Satneck’s brother got lippy with him once, an’ Tandy’s old man mopped up the floor with him. Then, one night when he was tight, an’ all but helpless, two of them held him while Reiser beat him up. It was an ugly mess. The kid came up on them and they slugged him.”

“What about the kid?” Gus said, impatient.

“I was coming to that,” Briggs said. “They knocked him out. Reiser did it, I think, with a sap. But when the kid came out of it, his old man was all bloody and badly beaten. Tandy got him home and tried to fix him up. When his old man didn’t come to, Tandy called a doctor. The kid’s father had a bad concussion and never was quite right after that. The slugging they gave him affected his mind and one side of his body. He could never work again.”

“Did it go to court?”

“Uh-huh, but Tandy was one against a dozen witnesses, and they made the kid out a liar and he lost the case. The father died a couple of years ago. The kid’s not quite ten years younger than Reiser, and couldn’t have been more than a youngster when it all happened. I guess he’s been on the bum ever since.”

“The kid’s hungry to get Stan Reiser into a ring with him,” Gus said slowly.

“It’s easy to see why Reiser didn’t recognize him,” Briggs said. “Tandy must have changed a lot since then. As far as that goes, look how much he’s changed since we met him. You’d never know he was the same person. He’s filled out, hardened up, and he looks good now.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s all there was,” Gus said thoughtfully. “I was worried.”

Briggs hesitated. “It isn’t quite all, Gus,” he said. “There is more.”

“More?”

“That wasn’t the first time the kid and Reiser met. They had a scrap once. Reiser was always mean, and he teased Tandy once when the kid was selling papers on a corner out here on Albina Street. The kid had spunk and swung on him, and I guess the punch hurt, because Stan darn near killed him with his fists. I think that’s what started the row with his father.”

Gus Coe scowled. “That’s not good. Sometimes a beating like that sticks in the mind, and this one might. Well, all we can do is to go along and see. Right now, the kid’s shaping up for this fight better than ever.

“You know, one of us has got to stay with him, Briggsie. Every minute!”

“That’s right.” Briggs sat down. “Bernie won’t stand for this. We just blocked him from the championship and no matter what Reiser thinks, Bernie is scared. He’s scared Tandy can win, and as he used every dirty trick in the game to bring Stan along, he certainly won’t change now.”

Gus nodded.

“You’re right. He’ll stop at nothing. The kid got under Reiser’s skin tonight, too, and once in that ring, it will be little short of murder…for one or the other of them.”

Briggs nodded. “You know, Gus, maybe we should duck Reiser.”

Gus was thoughtful for a moment, and then he said, “I know. The kid may not be afraid of Reiser. But frankly, I am. I wanted to get even with Satneck and Reiser for the one they pulled on us, but that’s not important anymore. Tandy is. I like him and he’s goin’ places.”

“Yeah,” Briggs agreed. “I like the kid, too.”

T
ANDY
M
OORE
, his cuts healed, went back to the gym under Spivy’s Albina Street Pool Room with a will. In meeting Reiser, he would be facing a man who wanted to maim and kill. Reiser had everything to lose by this fight and Tandy had all to gain. Reiser was the leading contender for the title, and was acknowledged a better man than the current champion. If he lost now, he was through.

Going and coming from the gym, and in his few nights around town, Tandy watched for Dorinda. He wanted to call and apologize for the nightclub scene, but was too proud, and despite his wish, he could see no reason for thinking he might not have been right. Yet he didn’t want to believe it, and deep within himself, he did
not
believe it.

As the days drew on and the fight came nearer, Tandy was conscious of a new tension. He could see that Gus Coe and Briggs were staying close to him; that Coe’s face had sharpened and grown more tense, that Briggs was ever more watchful, and that they always avoided dark streets and kept him to well-lighted public thoroughfares.

To one who had been so long accustomed to the harsh and hard ways of life, it irritated Tandy even while he understood their feelings and knew they were thinking of him. He was realist enough to know that Bernie Satneck was not going to chance losing a fighter worth a million dollars without putting up a battle.

Bernie Satneck would stop at nothing. Nor would Stan Reiser, when it came to that.

Come what may between now and the day of the fight, Tandy Moore knew that all would be settled in the ring. He also knew that although Reiser was a hard puncher and a shrewd, dangerous fighter who took every advantage, he was not afraid of him. This was his chance to get some revenge both for himself and his father…and it was legal.

V

One day, Hansen, the reporter, dropped around to the second-floor hotel where they were staying. Tandy was lying on the bed in a robe, relaxing after a tough workout. The smell of Chinese food from the café downstairs drifted in through the window. The sportswriter dropped into a chair and dug out his pipe; he lit it up.

“I want to know about you and Stan Reiser,” he suggested suddenly. “You knew him when you were a kid, didn’t you? Out in St. John’s? Wasn’t there bad blood between you?”

“Maybe.” Tandy turned his head. “Look, Hansen, I like you. I don’t want to give you a bum steer or cross you up in any way. Whatever you learn about Stan or myself is your business, only I’m not telling you anything. Whatever differences we have, we’ll settle in the ring.”

“I agree.” Hansen nodded, sucking on his pipe. “I’ve looked your record over, Tandy. Actually, I needn’t have. I know Gus, and there isn’t a straighter guy in this racket than Gus Coe. And Briggs? Well, Briggs is not a good man to get in the way of, not even for Bernie Satneck.”

His eyes lifted, testing him with the name, and Tandy kept his face immobile.

“You’ve got a record since taking up with Coe that’s as straight as a die,” the reporter said. “If there ever was anything in your past, you have lived it down. I wouldn’t say as much for Stan Reiser.”

“What do you mean?” Tandy demanded.

“Just this. Bernie Satneck is running a string of illegal enterprises that touches some phase of every kind of crookedness there is. I’ve known about that for a long time, but it wasn’t until just lately that I found out who was behind him—that he’s not the top man himself.”

“Who is?” Tandy didn’t figure it really mattered, he wasn’t after anything but a settling of old accounts.

“Stan Reiser.” Hansen nodded as he said it. “Sure, we know; Bernie Satneck is his manager, and the manager is supposed to be the brains. Well, in this case that isn’t so. Bernie is just a tool, a front man.”

Hansen drew thoughtfully on his pipe. “I’ve been around the fight game a long time, had thirty years’ experience around fighters. Once in a while, you strike a wrong gee among them. I think less so than in most professions or trades, because fighting demands a certain temperament or discipline. Despite their associations, most fighters are pretty square guys.”

“You say Reiser isn’t?”

“I
know
he isn’t. I want to get him completely out of the fight game, and so do some others we know. If you put him down, get him out of the running for the championship, we’ll keep him down. Don’t underestimate the power of the press. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me your story?”

“I’ll fight him in the ring, that’s all,” Tandy said quietly. “Whatever there is between Reiser and me can be settled inside the ropes.”

“Sure. That’s the way I figured it.” Hansen stopped as he was leaving. “I know about your father, but I won’t write that story unless you give me the go-ahead.”

G
US LEFT
T
ANDY
in the room on the day of the fight and went off on an errand across town. Briggs was around somewhere, but where Tandy did not know.

He removed his shirt and shoes and lay down on the bed. He felt anything but sleepy, so he opened a magazine and began to read.

There was a knock on the door and when it opened it was Dorinda Lane.

She was the last person he expected to see and he hastily swung his feet to the floor and reached for a shirt.

“Is it all right for me to come in?”

“Sure,” he said. “You…well, I wasn’t expecting anybody.”

She dropped into a chair. “Tandy, you’ve got to listen to me! I’ve found out something, something I’ve no business to know. I overheard a conversation last night. Bernie Satneck and Stan Reiser were talking.”

“Look.” He got up and walked across the room. “If you shouldn’t, don’t tell me. After all, if Reiser is a friend of yours.”

“Oh, don’t be silly!” Dorinda declared impatiently. “You’re so wrong about that! I never had but one date with him. He had nothing at all to do with my coming to the city. Long before I met you, I had found an agent and was trying to get a singing job through him. Reiser didn’t even recommend me to Nevada Johnson, I’ve just run into him there. But that’s not important, Tandy.” She stepped closer to him. “It’s what Reiser and Satneck have planned!”

“You mean you know? You overheard?”

Dorinda frowned. “Not exactly, I did hear them talking in the club. Stan Reiser believes he can beat you. He was furious when he found that Bernie Satneck wasn’t sure, but he did listen, and Satneck has suggested that they should take no chances. What they have planned, I don’t know, as I missed part of it then, but it has something to do with the gloves, something to get in your eyes.”

Tandy shrugged. “Maybe it could be resin. But they always wipe off the gloves after a man goes down, so it couldn’t be that. Did you hear anything more?”

“Yes, I did. They had quite an argument, but finally I heard Reiser agree that if he hadn’t stopped you by the ninth round, he would do what Bernie wanted.”

Tandy Moore’s eyes grew sharp. He looked down at his hands.

“Thanks, Dory,” he said at last. “That’ll help.”

She hesitated, looking at him, tenderness and worry mingled in her eyes. Yet he was warned and he would be ready. It was nice to know.

A
S HE CRAWLED
into the ring, Tandy Moore stared around him in amazement at the crowd. It rolled away from the ring in great banks of humanity, filling the ball park to overflowing. The blowing clouds parted momentarily and the sun blasted down on the spotless white square of canvas as he moved across to his corner.

Gus, in a white sweater, was beside him and Briggs stood at the edge of the ring, then dropped back into his seat. An intelligent-looking man with white brows was in the corner with Gus. He was a world-famed handler of fighters, even more skillful than Gus himself.

The robe was slid from his shoulders, and as Tandy peered from under his brows at Gus, he grinned a little and smiled.

“Well, pal, here we are,” he said softly.

“Yeah.” Gus stared solemnly across the ring. “I wish I knew what they had up their sleeves. They’ve got something, you can bet on it. Neither Bernie Satneck nor Stan Reiser ever took an unnecessary chance.”

Tandy stared down at his gloved hands. He had an idea of what they had up their sleeves, but he said nothing. That was his problem alone. He hadn’t mentioned it to Gus and he was no nearer a solution now than ever. They might not try anything on him, but if they did he would cope with it when the time came.

The referee gave them their instructions and he and Reiser returned to their corners, and almost instantly the bell sounded.

Tandy whirled and began his swift, shuffling movement to the center of the ring. His mouth felt dry and his stomach had a queer, empty feeling he had never known before. Under him the canvas was taut and strong, and he tried his feet on it as he moved and they were sure.

Stan Reiser opened up with a sharp left to the head. It landed solidly and Tandy moved away, watching the center of Reiser’s body where he could see hands and feet both at the same time.

Reiser jabbed and Tandy slipped the punch, the glove sliding by his cheekbone, and then he went in fast, carrying the fight to the bigger man.

He slammed a right to the ribs, then a left and right to the body. Stan backed up and he followed him.