The Reluctant Pinkerton (8 page)

“Like I said,” Roper responded, “I’m lookin’ for a job.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Whatever involves cattle,” Roper said. “I done it all.”

“So you’re lookin’ for a job in the stockyards?”

“I thought I’d start there.”

“And you didn’t come into contact with these jaspers tonight?”

“I never seen either one of them.”

“Yeah, okay,” the lawman said.

“What’s your name?” Roper asked.

“Reynolds,” the sheriff said. “You better talk to the clerk about gettin’ another room. I’ll have some men come up and move these bodies.” Reynolds looked up and down the hall. Roper figured he was thinking about the fact that nobody was sticking their head out to see what was going on.

“Nobody showed much interest in the goings on, Sheriff.”

“Naw, they wouldn’t,” Reynolds said. “The fellas in these rooms usually got somethin’ on their minds.” He looked at Roper. “You got a girl in your room?”

“No, sir,” Roper said. “I was sleepin’.”

“Yeah, okay,” Reynolds said. “These two ain’t gonna be no loss to anybody. Go get yerself another room key.”

*   *   *

Roper went down to the lobby, which was still empty. Hearing shots in Hell’s Half Acre was nothing new, but he still thought the clerk should have showed some interest.

The young man watched as Roper approached the front desk, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Guess you didn’t hear the shots upstairs,” Roper said.

“I heard ’em.”

“Yeah? How come you didn’t come runnin’?”

“This is the Half Acre, mister,” the clerk said. “You don’t run towards shots, you run away from ’em.”

“Well, looks like I’ll need another key,” Roper said. “Those two broke my door.”

“We got rooms,” the clerk said. He turned, grabbed a key, and turned back, handing it to Roper. “There ya go.”

“I guess when you gave those two my room number, you should’ve given them my key. Then they wouldn’t have had to kick in my door.”

“Huh?”

“They knew what room I was in because you told ’em,” Roper said. “Now, when the sheriff comes down here I can tell him that, or I could keep quiet.”

“Why would ya do that?”

“Because you’re gonna tell me who you and those two are workin’ with,” Roper said. “Who sent them after me?”

“I can’t—I’ll get killed.”

“Okay, then,” Roper said, “I’ll tell you, and you just nod.”

The young man didn’t move.

“Go ahead, try it. Nod.”

He nodded.

“Okay,” Roper said, “it’s my guess a young lady named Nancy sent those two after me after she saw me in the saloon.”

The clerk remained frozen. There were footsteps on the stairs.

“Here comes the lawman, boy,” Roper said. “Am I right?”

As the lawman appeared at the bottom step, the young man jerked his head in a quick nod.

“Okay,” he said, then loud enough for the sheriff to hear, “thanks for the key.”

Roper didn’t get much sleep.

He stuck the wooden chair beneath the doorknob of his new room, set the pitcher and basin on the windowsill in case somebody tried to get in that way. Then he went to bed fully dressed with his gun beneath his pillow.

He dozed here and there, but was awake when first light came streaming through the window. He sat, his stomach growling. Killing two men had done nothing to ruin his appetite. They would have killed him for two bits, so they deserved what they got.

Roper didn’t know if the desk clerk had told Nancy the saloon girl what had happened. He also didn’t know how many other men she had on a string. The clerk was worried about getting killed, and Roper doubted the girl did her own killing.

He’d decided to stick to his plan about approaching the stockyard boys in the saloon, but that meant having it out with Nancy first. And lying awake that night, he had come up with an approach for that.

But first he wanted breakfast.

*   *   *

The café looked dubious from the outside, but Roper—as “Andy Blake”—could not be choosy. Most of the clientele was dressed as he was, so he went inside and got a table. He ordered bacon and eggs, and resisted the urge to clean the silverware while he waited. The waiter filled his coffee cup before Roper could inspect it to see what was at the bottom.

While he was eating breakfast, Sheriff Reynolds came walking in. The lawman stopped inside the door, looked around, spotted Roper, and walked over. Along the way, longshoremen and stockyard worker averted their eyes, preferring not to attract the attention of the law.

“Mr. Blake,” Reynolds said. “Mind if I join you?”

“You’re the law,” Roper said. “You ain’t gonna harass me, are ya?”

“That ain’t what I’m here for,” Reynolds said.

“Yeah, okay, sit down.”

He didn’t want to appear very comfortable talking to a lawman.

“What’s on your mind?” Roper asked.

“I checked at the stockyards,” the lawman said. “You ain’t applied for a job.”

“Did I tell you I did?”

“Yeah, you did,” Reynolds said. “That’s what you said.”

“That ain’t what I said,” Roper replied. “I said I was lookin’ for a job and thinkin’ about the stockyards.”

“So where have you looked?”

Roper put his fork down and stared across the table at the lawman the way a lot of men had stared at him in the past.

“I’m gettin’ my bearin’s, Sheriff,” he said. “You know a man’s gotta know where to drink and where to eat.”

“This is the place you picked to eat?”

“Closest place to the hotel,” Roper said. “How did you find me here?”

“Like you said,” Reynolds answered, “closest place to the hotel.” He looked around. “And you fit in here.”

The lawman had no idea what a compliment he had just played the disguised detective.

“You mind if I finish eatin’?” Roper asked. “I got a big day ahead of me.”

“Big day of what?”

“Job huntin’.”

Reynolds stood up.

“I’m gonna be keepin’ my eye on you, Blake.”

“Why? Because two jaspers broke into my room? How is that my fault?”

“Just a word to the wise,” Reynolds said, and walked out.

As the lawman cleared the door, some of the other diners turned and looked at Roper, who contrived to look as if he was talking to himself, shaking his head and going back to his breakfast.

Most of the other diners went back to their meals, but two men seated together stood up and walked over to Roper’s table, carrying their coffee cups.

“Mind if we join ya?” one of them asked.

Roper looked up at the two men. They were both in their thirties, with long, lank hair and the same rangy, saw-boned build. Roper quickly figured they were brothers.

“I don’t know you,” Roper said.

“Well, we can take care of that,” the other one said. “I’m Stan Fixx and this is my little brother, Larry.”

Larry, the “little” one, was actually a few inches taller than his brother.

“We heard you tell the law you’re new in town, and lookin’ for a job,” Larry said. “We thought maybe we could help.”

“Why would you wanna do that?”

“Well,” Stand said, “anybody who’s on the wrong side of the sheriff is okay with us.”

“We just wanna welcome you to town,” Larry said.

Roper looked up at the two men then said, “Yeah, okay, have a seat.” He had expected to make contact with somebody in the saloon, not this morning in a café, but this could work.

“So, what did you do to get on the wrong side of Sheriff Reynolds?” Stan asked.

“Two fellas broke into my room last night,” Roper said. “They were either gonna rob me or kill me.”

“What happened?” Larry asked.

“I killed them.”

“Lucky for you,” Stan said. “Any idea who they were?”

“The sheriff recognized one of them,” Roper said, “but I didn’t get a name. Just some guy who bushwhacks men for their wallets.”

Stan and Larry exchanged a glance.

“Mighta been somebody we know,” Larry said.

Roper froze with his fork halfway to his mouth and said, “Not a friend, I hope. Or somebody you work with?”

“No, no, no,” Larry said. “Hey, we’re just a couple of guys who work in the stockyards.”

“We heard the sheriff say you were lookin’ for a job there.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Well,” Stan said, “we could take you in there and introduce you.”

“We got some influence.”

“Yeah?” Roper asked. He pushed his plate away. “When could we do that?”

“Well…now, if ya want,” Larry said.

“Yeah, we gotta go to work anyway.”

“Sounds good,” Roper said. “Let me pay my bill.” He almost offered to pay for their breakfast, too, but caught himself. He was supposed to be somebody who didn’t have much money.

The brothers pushed their chairs back and stood up.

“We’ll just wait for ya outside,” Stan said.

“Yeah, okay,” Roper said, figuring they must have paid their bill already.

The Fixx brothers left the café and Roper called over the waiter to settle up.

“Did those two fellas pay their bill?” he asked.

“The Fixx brothers?” the waiter asked. “Oh, they never pay.”

“Really. How do I get a deal like that?”

“You’d have to make arrangements with the owner,” the man said, “like they did.”

“Okay,” Roper said, “maybe next time I come in.”

The waiter nodded disinterestedly and walked away. Roper went out to meet the Fixx boys.

The brothers took Roper to the stockyards to the office of the foreman.

“What’s this fella’s name?” Roper asked as they walked up the steps.

“Pete Orton,” Larry said. “Been the boss around here for a coupla years.”

“A good boss?”

“He’s fair,” Stan said, “if you get on his good side.”

“Like you boys?”

“Yeah,” Larry said. “He likes us.”

“Come on, we’ll introduce ya.”

Larry opened the door and the three men walked in.

There was a man sitting behind a large, raw wood desk. He had short hair, a lantern jaw, and the look of somebody who used to work in the stockyards before he became a foreman. In his fifties, he also had the look of a man whose muscle had started going to fat.

“What the hell?” he roared. “How many times I gotta tell you idiots to knock!”

“Oh, hey,” Stan said, “sorry, boss.”

“We got a feller here’s lookin’ fer a job, boss,” Larry said.

“Yeah? I hope he ain’t a friend of yours.”

“Um, yeah, well, we just met this mornin’,” Stan said.

“Yeah, at the café,” Larry said. “The sheriff was givin’ him a hard time.”

“That a fact?” Orton asked. “What’d you do?”

“I killed two men.”

Orton sat back in his chair and laughed.

“Where’d that happen?”

“My hotel room,” Roper said. “Seems they thought I was asleep and decided to rob me.”

“Only you wasn’t asleep, huh?”

“Yeah, I was,” Roper said, “but I’m a light sleeper.”

“Haw,” Orton laughed. “Light sleeper. I like that.” He looked at the Fixx brothers. “You two, get lost. I’m doin’ a job interview.”

“Sure, boss, sure,” Larry said.

“Get to work!” Orton said.

“Right, boss,” Larry said. “See ya later, Andy.”

“Yeah,” Roper said.

The brothers left the office and Orton said, “Have a seat. Andy…what?”

“Andy Blake.”

“From where?”

“All over.”

“Where you from first, boy?” Orton asked. “You gotta answer my questions if you want a job.”

“I’m from Missouri, originally,” Roper said. “Been travelin’ around. Came up here from South Texas.”

“You wanted?”

“No.”

“You sure you’re not wanted somewhere?” Orton asked. “We can’t hire no wanted men. If there’s paper out on you, you better tell me.”

“No paper,” Roper said. “Not from anywhere.”

“What can you do in a stockyard?”

“Anythin’,” Roper said. “Cattle, sheep, whatever you got, I can tend ’em, haul ’em, butcher ’em.”

“That so?” Orton said. “If that’s true, you’d be pretty valuable around here.”

“I figure.”

“Yeah, you figure,” Orton said. “I’m gonna have to talk to the sheriff about you before I hire you. And my boss.”

“That’s okay,” Roper said. “The sheriff ain’t gonna tell you nothin’ against me.”

“If he don’t,” Orton said, “then you’ll be hired.”

“When will I know?”

“Come back here in the mornin’,” Orton said, “ready to work. If you’re not hired, I’ll let you know.”

“Fair enough.”

Orton stood up.

“You get the job we’ll talk about salary tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” Roper said. “I appreciate that.”

Orton shook hands with Roper, who then turned and left. He was pretty sure he’d be hired by the next morning.

*   *   *

Outside he found the Fixx boys waiting for him.

“What happened?” Stan asked.

“I’ll find out tomorrow,” Roper said, “but I’m pretty sure I got a job.”

“Well, all right,” Larry said, slapping Roper on the back. “We gotta have us some drinks later and celebrate.”

“I’ll be at the saloon,” Roper said.

“Which saloon?”

“The Bullshead.”

“That’s a good place,” Larry Fixx said. “We’ll meet ya there.”

“We gotta get to work before ol’ Orton sees us out here,” Stan said.

“I wanna thank you boys for the introduction,” Roper said. “First round’s on me tonight.”

“Well, all right,” Larry said, again. “See ya at the Bullshead.”

Roper went back to his hotel, surprised at how well the day had gone so far. That is, for a day that started with him killing two men.

He sat down on his bed, trying to put everything in its proper perspective. Andy Blake was established with the law as a troublemaker, with the Fixx brothers as one of their own, with Orton as a possible employee. But he didn’t know where he stood with Nancy the saloon girl. How would she take the fact that he’d killed two of her men? And who did she work for? He was going to have to go to the Bullshead and have a talk with her, find out if she was going to be sending any other boys after him. Or if her boss was.

He walked to his window and looked out. He was about to turn away when he saw Dol standing across the street.