Ralph Compton Death Along the Cimarron (20 page)

“Why? Looks like it's over now,” said Fat Cyrus. “Besides, that peckerwood has had that coming for the longest time. I'd have busted his head myself long before this except I know it would come down to gunplay.... Ain't no way I'm as fast as he is.”

“Me neither,” said Clifford. “Come on, we can at least drag him up off the floor.”

“Yeah,” said Cyrus, grinning. “I want to hear him explain how this all went wrong for him.”

In her small hotel room, Danielle heard men's muffled voices as Clifford Reed and Fat Cyrus helped Eddie Ray Moon to his feet and half carried him out the door. Falina, feeling bolder now that she'd seen one of the gunmen brought down a notch, ran over to the divan and pulled Eddie Ray's pistol from beneath it. She quickly unloaded the pistol and dropped the bullets into her dress pocket. Then she ran to the door, holding the empty gun with two fingers. “Here ... take your stinking pistol with you!” she shouted, heaving the gun out into the dirt. “And don't come back to this place with your rudeness!” The pistol hit the ground with a thud. Clifford and Fat Cyrus managed to keep from laughing aloud at the hapless Eddie Ray hanging between them, his boot toes still dragging the dirt a bit as they walked. They looked down at Eddie Ray's gun.

“Damn, Eddie Ray,” said Fat Cyrus with a grin as he stooped to pick up the pistol. “That fellow caused you to get your pistol all dirty.” He shoved it down in Eddie Ray's holster. “Now you'll have to clean it.”

“I'll kill him,” Eddie Ray gasped, his swollen broken nose giving his voice a deep nasal twang.

“Kill him?” Clifford chimed in. “My God, man! You ought to thank him for not eating you alive. The shape you're in, he could have set your boots on fire and you couldn't have stopped him!”

“The hell did you say to him anyway?” Fat Cyrus asked, tormenting Eddie Ray.

“I forget,” Eddie Ray mumbled as they dragged him on toward the saloon.

“If I was you I'd sure try to remember,” said Cyrus. “So you never make the mistake of saying it again!”

Danielle watched the men through a drawn window curtain she held slightly parted. When they went inside the Ace High Saloon, she took her hat off, poured tepid water from a pitcher into a wash pan, and washed her face. Then she placed her hat on her head, carefully stuffed her hair up under it, and picked up her rifle from where she'd laid it across the bed. A soft knock at the door drew her attention.

When she eased it open a crack, Falina held out her hand and said, “Here—I take the bullets from his gun so he cannot shoot anyone.” She dropped the six bullets into Danielle's outstretched hand and smiled.
“Por favor,
do with them as you will.”

“Gracias,”
said Danielle. She returned the woman's smile and closed the door softly.

Pocketing the bullets, Danielle left her saddlebags in the room, walked outside to the hitchrail, and led Sundown around behind the hotel to a long row of stalls. There she grained the chestnut mare, watered her, and wiped her down with a handful of clean straw. Almost an hour had passed by the time Danielle left the row of stalls and walked back along the alley alongside the hotel.

Nearing the end of the alley, she saw two men step in slowly, blocking her way to the street. One held a pair of saddlebags in his hand.
Hers
... ? she wondered. Glancing behind her, she saw two more blocking her way back toward the stalls. One of these she recognized as the man from the lobby of the hotel. Good, she thought. They were coming to her no sooner than she'd arrived in town. She smiled to herself and slowed her pace, still walking forward.

“Hold it right there,” said one of the men in front of her, seeing that she seemed to have no hesitancy about walking right through them. He held up a hand toward her. “Danny Duggin,” the man said, “we don't like saddle tramps soiling up our town.” He gestured a hand, and the other man stepped forward. “Clifford, give him his bags.”

Clifford Reed pitched the saddlebags to Danielle's feet. She glanced down at them, then slowly looked back at Clifford and Buck Hite. Behind her, Danielle heard footsteps hurrying, trying to sneak up on her. She spun, her Colt snapping up from her holster, cocked and ready, stopping Fat Cyrus and Eddie Ray Moon in their tracks. “You're back for more?” Danielle said in her best man's voice, low and gravelly. Her pistol pointed straight at Eddie Ray's broken nose. A thin trickle of blood still ran down his upper lip.

Seeing how quickly Danny Duggin had gotten the drop on two of his men, Buck Hite said under his breath, “Jesus, boys, he could have killed you both.” He stared at Eddie Ray Moon. “I thought you said he hit you while you weren't looking.”

“That's the truth, Buck,” said Eddie Ray. “We was just talking, then all of sudden,
bam!
He hit me with his rifle butt.”

Danielle watched in silence, her pistol still cocked, still pointed. Fat Cyrus and Clifford Reed passed one another a knowing glance. Buck Hite saw it and said, “Is there something you boys ain't told me? If there is, you best say so now, before somebody gets killed here.”

“We might have seen the whole thing through the hotel window,” Fat Cyrus said hesitantly.

“You might have?” Buck Hite shouted. “By God, either you saw something or you didn't!”

“All right,” said Clifford Reed, coming clean. “We saw this man bust Eddie Ray in the nose.... But he didn't do it on the sly. Eddie Ray had his bark on and was fixin' to draw on him.” His finger pointed at Danielle. “This Duggin was just faster. He smacked the cold yellow piss out of him.”

“That's a damn lie, Buck,” said Eddie Ray. “This man ain't nothing!” He also pointed at Danielle. “I'm faster than he'll ever hope to be with a gun! I wasn't prepared is all.”

Danielle listened. If this was a chance for her to work her way into the confidence of some of Cherokee Earl's men, she needed to defuse the situation. She lowered her Colt and looked at Buck Hite. “Maybe you and your pals better go somewhere and work all this out ... figure who did what.” She reached down and scooped up her saddlebags. “Meanwhile, I'll be at the saloon.... It's been a long ride up here.”

“Not so fast, Duggin,” said Buck. “You came up from the south range?”

“Yep,” said Danielle. As she spoke, she noted Buck Hite looking her up and down. Did he recognize the shirt she was wearing as once having belonged to Lon Trabough?

“I sent a couple of good men down along the trail—the Trabough brothers. They should have been back before now. Maybe you saw them.”

“Yep, I saw them,” said Danielle, draping the dusty saddlebags over her shoulder and raising her rifle up under her arm, the way she'd carried it earlier. Seeing the rifle butt up under her arm, Eddie Ray took a cautious step back from her. “They said they'd just finished up some messy business with somebody along the trail. Said they were on their way back to Drake.”

“Oh ...” Buck Hite eyed Danielle's shirt again. “Then I expect I should be seeing them here most any time?”

“I wouldn't count on it,” Danielle said flatly.

“Why not?” Buck asked.

“Because I killed them both deader than hell,” Danielle said.

The men seemed to snap to attention. “You what?” Buck stared in disbelief.

“They got belligerent and out of hand.” Her eyes beneath the hat brim went to Eddie Ray. “They started asking too many questions, just like this one did before I rifle-butted him.”

“You'll play hell ever getting the drop on me again, Danny Duggin!” Eddie Ray raged. “I can damn sure promise you that!”

Danielle looked down at the pistol in his holster, saw the dust still on the handle and the hammer, and took a chance on him not having checked or dusted it off since their earlier encounter. “Mister, I've got the drop on you right now.... You're just not smart enough to know it.”

Shaking with anger, Eddie Ray touched a wadded-up bandanna to the trickle of blood on his upper lip. “Buck,” he said. “Let me shoot this smart-mouthed turd, please! Right here, right now! I've got to kill him.... I've got to!”

Danielle spread a tight smile beneath her hat brim. “Give him the go-ahead, Buck,” she said. “It ain't like he's apt to hurt anybody.”

“That does it, Buck! Everybody stand back!” Eddie Ray screamed, his face red, his purple nose appearing to almost throb with boiling rage. “I'm going to kill him!”

“All right, Mr. Danny Duggin,” said Buck Hite, stepping back and making room. “Looks like you've gone and dug your own grave. Eddie Ray is not a man to fool with when it comes to a gunfight.”

Danielle turned to face Eddie Ray. “Let's get to it then, Eddie Ray,” she said in a hissing voice.

“Damn right, let's get to it,” said Eddie Ray. Then he said to the others, “Cyrus, Clifford, stay out of this.... He's all mine!”

Eddie Ray's hand streaked down to his pistol butt, but before he could lift the pistol, Danielle's Colt was out, cocked and pointed at his swollen nose. Eddie Ray's face turned sickly green; his hand was frozen on the holstered pistol.

Danielle had him, and she knew it. But instead of firing, she let down the hammer on the Colt and spun it on her finger. Eddie Ray had another chance. He almost snatched his pistol up, but then stopped again when Danielle's Colt pointed at him, again cocked and ready. She moved closer to him. “You just can't seem to get that gun out of the holster, can you, Eddie Ray?” she said, taunting him in a quiet voice. She spun the pistol again, saw the thought cross Eddie Ray's mind again, then stopped the Colt and pointed it again just as he was on the verge of drawing. Again he froze. Again she came closer.

“Damn it to hell!” Eddie Ray shrieked, almost sobbing in his frustration and fear. “Either shoot me or back off! I can't stand this!”

“Then you've had enough?” Danielle asked, her Colt still menacing him. Before he could speak, she spun the Colt again and stopped it, cocking it in his face only a few inches from his broken nose.

“I've had enough! Yes, I've had enough,” said Eddie Ray in defeat, wincing, holding his free hand up as if to protect his swollen nose.

Danielle pulled the trigger on the Colt but caught it with her thumb just before it struck the bullet. Eddie Ray, Clifford Reed, and Fat Cyrus gasped. Buck Hite just watched, liking the way this young gunman handled himself.

“You wasn't going to shoot nobody anyway, Eddie Ray,” Danielle said in a low gravelly voice. She lowered her Colt, reached into her pocket with her free hand, took out the six bullets, and pitched them to the ground at Eddie Ray's feet. “Your gun ain't even loaded. Think I'd trust you with a loaded gun ... the way you was acting earlier?”

“You've got to be kidding!” said Buck Hite. He stepped over, yanked Eddie Ray's pistol up from his holster, slung it open, and checked it. His eyes widened, then narrowed as he turned them to Eddie Ray. “You stupid peckerwood! This man unloaded your pistol? You didn't even check it before coming back here looking for a gunfight? I ought to bend this barrel across your chin!” He drew the pistol back, then stopped himself, with Eddie Ray standing dumbfounded.

Danielle holstered her pistol and stepped away through an opening Buck Hite had left for her. “Are you looking for work?” Buck asked before she had gone two steps.

“No, thank you,” Danielle said over her shoulder. “Work is the last thing I'm looking for.”

“Well, what the hell are you looking for?” Buck asked.

“Easy money,” Danielle said, a flat smile coming to her lips.

There was silence for a second as her words sank in. Then Buck Hite chuckled, Clifford and Fat Cyrus slowly joining in. “I figured it went without saying that you're looking for easy money,” said Buck. “We wouldn't know how to spend any other kind.”

“Now you're making more sense,” said Danielle.

“Wait a damn minute,” Eddie Ray demanded. He tuned to Buck Hite. “What about him killing two of our men?”

Buck Hite cocked his head at Danielle. “Yeah, what about that, Danny Duggin? Bad as I need men, you went and killed two of them.”

“Yeah,” said Danielle, “but I figure it's an even trade. I didn't kill Eddie Ray. That's one.... And I'm throwing in with you. That's
two.”

The men laughed, except for Eddie Ray. “He's got a point there, Eddie Ray,” said Buck. Buck looked at Danielle. “Do you have any qualms about what you have to do to make this easy money?”

“Not in the least,” said Danielle.

“Come on then,” said Buck, “I want to buy you a drink.” He looked back at the others. “Boys, get your drinking done—we leave first thing in the morning.”

“Where are we headed, Buck?” Danielle asked.

“We're headed north to meet up with a pal of mine named Cherokee Earl Muir.” He beamed proudly. “Ever heard of him?”

“Sure have,” said Danielle.

“Then I reckon you know that riding with him is about as big as you get in the business of outlawry.”

“That's my thought exactly,” Danielle said as they walked on.

Buck Hite hooked a thumb in his belt. “Stick with me, Danny Duggin.... You'll be glad you did.”

“I'm glad already, Buck,” Danielle replied.

Sheriff Clarence Wright walked from the St. James Hotel back to his office two blocks away. He had a lot on his mind, most of it involving an already-large amount of money lying in the Cimarron bank at that very moment, and more money coming anyday. These unusually large amounts of money were sent to Cimarron to pay for the shipments of silver coming in from mining operations all across the Territory. Why the large mining company's home offices back East had chosen his town for this transaction was beyond him. But there was no use in him fretting over it. The money was here, the silver was arriving. All he could do was keep a tight rein on things. In his hand Sheriff Wright held a federal court summons he had just received. On top of everything else, he had now been called to appear in court. That would put his town in a dangerous position for at least a week. He sighed, folded the summons, and stuffed it inside his coat pocket.