Gun Work: The Further Exploits of Hayden Tilden (17 page)

Tobacco smoke, so thick a body almost needed a hatchet to cut through it, fogged around us, then went to escaping through the open doorway, till Nate shoved it closed.

Soon as the ironbound door slammed shut, place got quieter than the bottom of a fresh-dug grave. All six of the badge toters in the corner turned at the same time. Not a smiling face in the group. Stared at us like we each had two heads and three noses. Some went to tickling the grips of their pistols. Was a damned uncomfortable situation, to say the least.

SURE AS HELL felt like we stood in the middle of Sam Farmer's office with our faces hanging out for nigh on a minute before anything happened. Tight-lipped, moustachioed gent slumped in a squeaking banker's chair behind the marshal's desk was obviously not Sam Farmer. Thick necked and having the broke-nosed look of a bare-knuckled prizefighter, he cast a weary glance our direction. Motioned us closer with a hand that held a slender, half-finished cheroot, decorated with a good two inches of steel-gray ash, between tobacco-stained fingers. Shoved the cigar back into his mouth and clamped a set of fine looking choppers onto it like a sad-faced hound worrying an old bone.

Stopped near the edge of the desk and said, “Evening, officer. Have urgent business with Marshal Sam Farmer.”

With an almost imperceptible, tired shake of the head he said, “Ain't here.”

“Expect him back anytime soon?”

“Nope. Tell the gospel truth, friend, Marshal Farmer had to make an o-fficial trip down to Waco. Man's testifyin' for the prosecution in a murder trial. Folks down that way 'er lookin' to hang a couple hard-as-nails murderers. Cain't blame 'em much, them ole boys kilt three people with a double-bit ax and a ball-peen hammer. Sam said he felt compelled to stroll on down and help Waco's good citizens out. Got the distinct impression he believed he owed his assistance to anyone as would rid the world of such vicious skunks.”

Carlton grunted, then said, “Damn, that sounds familiar. Lookin' for some evil skunks as might've pulled a similar trick ourselves.”

I said, “So, bottom line here is that Sam's gone for a spell.”

“Yep. Won't be back for three, maybe four days. Might even take him a week. Left me in charge of that bunch of badge-wearin' never-sweats over yonder in the corner. Just keepin' this crew doin' something useful's harder'n herding a pack of alley cats. Want anything important done, appears you're gonna have to deal with me first, and then do it yourself, gents.”

I waved at Nate and Carl, said, “These men are Deputy U.S. Marshals Swords and Cecil out of Judge Parker's court in Fort Smith, Arkansas. My name's . . .”

Before I could finish, or add anything else, the brokebeaked bruiser behind the desk hopped to his feet, jabbed a knotty-fingered, knuckle-scarred hand the size of a camp skillet at me and said, “By God, you'd be Marshal Hayden Tilden, I'd wager. Sam said he'd sent a telegram to the authorities in Fort Smith and expected you right quicklike. But I truly didn't have the slightest inkling, from what he said before headin' out, that you boys would arrive anytime soon. Figurin' on maybe the middle of next week at the earliest. Name's Bob Evans, Marshal Tilden. Can't begin to describe how pleased I am to make your acquaintance.”

Shook the man's massive, scarred paw, then he slowly sank back into his creaking seat like a kid's carnival balloon that lost its air.

I said, “My pleasure, Mr. Evans. We've only just arrived in town. Thought we'd stop by and, as a courtesy, check in with Marshal Farmer, then maybe look in on Miss Daisy Cassidy.”

“Well, as I said, Marshal Farmer alerted me to your possible arrival. Must admit I'm just about happier'n a two-tailed puppy you made it back to Fort Worth for a visit. Sam never passes up an opportunity to speak highly of you boys with anyone who'll stand still long enough to listen. Says you're the most thorough and accomplished bunch of lawmen he's ever worked with—bar none.”

Carl let out a gruff snort. “Well, that's good to hear, but it took Marshal Farmer a few days to warm up to us during our first raid down this way. However, he did come around mighty quick once the serious killing got started.”

Big man cast Carl a knowing look. “Had to deal with some bad 'uns on your last trip. That's for damned sure.” Then he glanced over at the checkers players' corner. “Some of you boys get the hell up and let this man and his friends have a seat. They look plumb tuckered out, and y'all buncha lazy-assed wretches have been loafin' around in here ever since the storm hit.”

One of the checkers group, tubby boy with a bristle-covered, piggish face, said, “Hell, Bob, it's damned awful out there.”

“Yeah, well, wouldn't hurt if some of you got the hell back out on the street and at least had a quick look around. We could have killers and thieves on every corner of Houston Street and we wouldn't have the slightest hint of their rude intentions.”

Aura of resentment oozed off three of Marshal Farmer's city policemen, as they wrenched themselves away from the game, dragged their chairs over to us, then stuffed their hats on and headed for the street like a trio of whipped dogs. Bolt of instantaneous lightning and clap of shattering thunder rattled the jail and lit up the street about the time they pulled the thick, plank door closed. For several seconds, entire jailhouse buzzed with a crackling electric charge that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck and caused my ears to itch.

Got myself settled in one of the ladder-backed, cane-bottomed chairs, pitched the prosecutor's court order for Daisy Cassidy's immediate extradition onto Officer Evans's desk. Said, “You have the girl locked up back there in a cell, Bob?”

Exhibiting little interest in their contents, Evans fingered the packet of documents for a second but didn't open them. He chuckled, pushed the leather-bound pouch back at me, then said, “Naw, slept in the office first couple of days she 'uz here. Then Marshal Sam put the gal up in a third-floor room over in the El Paso Hotel soon's he got word the court in Fort Smith would foot her bill. Couldn't have any kind of a woman back there on the cell block, locked in with all the local drunks, thugs, and prospective killers and rapists, now could we? Couldn't have one what looks like Daisy Cassidy back there, and that's for damn certain sure. Be a jump onto the dangerous side just lettin' her stroll through.”

Felt Carl squirm in his seat. Sounded a mite on the incredulous side when he said, “You do have somebody watching her, don't you, Bob?”

Nate snorted, then added, “Bet your men ain't buttin' heads for a chance to stand guard over some teenaged gal outta the Nations.”

Tin cup in hand, Evans clambered out of his chair. Hobbled over to a potbellied stove in the front corner of the office near the door. Wobbled a bit like a man who might've suffered a broken back at some point. Took a second to get comfortable once he stopped, then poured himself a dollop of fresh stump juice from the blackened pot atop the sooty heater.

He backed up next to the wall near the stove, took a sip of the steaming, thick liquid, then said, “You'd be way off the mark there, Mr. Swords. I've got men on the verge of pulling knives on each other just for the chance to get a ten-second look at that Cassidy gal. Well on the way to where I'm somewhat afraid if any two of 'em gets close enough to actually smell 'er at the same time, could have a brutal killin' on my hands.”

I said, “You're kidding, aren't you, Bob?”

Evans shuffled back to his seat and came nigh falling onto the piece of distressed furniture when he carelessly flopped down on it. Chair cracked and popped like it might collapse under his sizable bulk. Man propped one booted foot onto the corner of Sam Farmer's desk, then said, “Nope. Ain't no kiddin' here, boys. She has that effect on men. Gal might be the best-lookin' female-type person any of us have ever seen. Has that smell comin' off'n her. You know the one I'm talkin' 'bout. Makes the hair on a man's crotch stand up and wiggle. Swear to Jesus, gal has the amazing power to drive grown men to distraction—among other things.”

Definite edge on his voice when Nate said, “Well, now, you gotta admit, that's a right strong assessment of the lady, don't you think?”

Evans knifed a keen glance at Nate, then said, “Well, friend, put it to you this way. Gal's got straw-colored hair hangs all the way down to an hourglass waist. Kind of figure would make a man want to slap his ole granny till her garters popped loose. Eyes the color of Mexican turquoise. Skin as smooth, and unblemished, as fresh milk.”

Carlton grunted.

Nate squirmed in his seat, then said, “Describing a goddess of some kind, ain't you, Bob?”

Rueful grin etched its way across Evans's face. “Heard one of my boys say he'd be more'n willing to lay in the middle of Houston Street and let all four wheels of a loaded beer wagon roll over him just so's he could get a look up her skirt and maybe get a sniff of whatever that gal's got hid up there.”

“You able to confirm any of the stories she told about bein' whored out by the Coltrane boys?” I said.

Evans shrugged. Shook his head. Said, “I ain't been able to confirm a single word outta that gal's mouth. About anything.”

Carl rolled his eyes, stared at the ceiling, then said, “Has anyone tried to actually get at Miss Cassidy since Sam Farmer informed the U.S. marshal in Fort Smith of her whereabouts?”

Evans sat his cup on the desk, leaned back in the squeaking chair, and laced his fingers behind his head. “Nope. Ain't no one as can actually even get close to her. Have to go through one or two of us city policemen to start. And, of course, then there's her brother.”

Shot Carl and Nate a quick glance. “Brother?” I said. “What brother?”

Evans totally missed the incredulity in my voice. Scratched his muscular belly, then ruffed the thatch of hair on his head with one enormous bearlike appendage. “Yeah. Antsy little son of a bitch named Matt. Just kinda showed up a day or two after we put the girl up at the hotel.”

“Just showed up. What's that mean?” I said.

“Exactly what I said, Marshal Tilden. Just kind of appeared in the Cassidy gal's room one mornin'. Swear it's almost like he grew up outta the carpet or somethin'. Been madder'n a teased banty rooster since the minute he showed his face. Boy gets so excited ever' time another man manages to be within ten steps of the sister, you'd think he was about to commit murder on 'em. Hell, feller with a dirty mind might even think there's somethin' goin' on 'tween the two of 'em.”

Carl crossed his legs, then flicked at a gob of mud on the heel of his boot. Knew he and I were thinking the exact same thing, but didn't want to say anymore than absolutely necessary before clearing it with me.

After several seconds of awkward silence, my friend finally said, “Well, now that's right interestin', Bob. Boy showed up a day or two after the girl, huh? Puts on his raking spurs when any of your guys get too close to 'er?”

“Oh, hell, yeah. Silly wretch sets to hoppin' around like a Louisiana bullfrog in a hot skillet. Goes to yelling and hollerin'. He's a monumental pain in the rump, Marshal Tilden. Cain't say as I blame him for wantin' to protect his sister, but, tell you for certain sure, I don't envy you boys a bit havin' to put up with his angry, belligerent ass all the way back to Fort Smith. Probably make all y'all sit as far from the gal as you can get and still be on the same coach. That is, if he'll let any of you sit on the same coach with the two of 'em to begin with.”

Feller in the checkers klatch said, “Matt Cassidy ain't just antsy, marshals. Son of a bitch's crazier'n a toe sack fulla yeller jacket wasps, you ask me. Ole Bob here's bein' charitable 'bout that boy's state of mind.”

Officer pushing the red men around on the checkerboard added, “Crazy bastard's got loco camped out behind his twitchin' eyeballs, sure as Hell's hot and icicles is cold. He don't just
act
like he's a few sacks of seed short of a full load. His wagon's half empty, you ask me. Moonstruck son of a bitch has actually threatened more'n half of us with a killin' if we don't stay away from that good-lookin' twitch of a sister of his.”

Third man said, “Yeah, Bucky's right. Gal's good-lookin' as hell. Any man's breathin' would give a bunch to see'er nekkid, but she ain't worth dyin' over, that's for damn sure. Personally be glad when the gal's gone. Don't even care to sit outside her door myself. They's just somethin' 'bout them two kids gives me the jittery creeps.”

Got to my feet. Said, “Third floor of the El Paso, that right?”

Evans blew a smoke ring the size of wagon wheel, then said, “Yep. Last room at the west end of the third-floor hallway. Number three-twenty. Window looks out over Third Street. Cain't miss it. Put 'er there 'cause there ain't but one way in and one way out.”

“Who's on watch right now?” Nate said.

Evans squirmed in his chair. Scratched a scruffy chin, then said, “Think I've got Tinker Bloodsworthy camped outside the door for the next couple of hours. You boys stroll by tonight, just tell 'im I said it was okay for you to go in. Decide to wait till tomorrow, I'll see you up there myself.”

As we gathered our goods and headed for the boardwalk, Nate turned to Bob Evans and said, “Might wanna put two men on the Cassidy girl's door till we can get her outta town, Bob. There's mighty bad men lookin' to kill this kid, no matter how good-lookin' she is.”

Threw my possibles bag over one shoulder. Said, “Think we'll mosey on over and take a room at the El Paso. Get one on the third floor if we can. Talk with the girl tomorrow morning when my mind's a bit clearer. Been a long, bad day and I'd rather be sharp when we interview her.”