TW12 The Six-Gun Solution NEW (15 page)

"I don't know," said Scott. "What do you think?"

She bit her lower lip. "I don't think I'd be surprised," she said. "Not that I know he did," she added quickly, seeing Scott’s sharp glance. "Only there's something about him . . . something strange. And dangerous. He gives me chills."

“You ever been with him?" asked Scott, uneasily.

She looked up at him. "Scott. I've been with lots of men. You know that. But that's all in the past now. Oh, I still sit with cowboys and get them to buy drinks because that's my job here. Sometimes I might let them put their arms around me, but no more than that, honest. No more trips to the back room. All that's over now. It's been over ever since I met you. Things are different now. Does it really matter what happened in the past?"

"Sometimes it matters more than you might know, Jenny,” said Scott, somewhat distantly. Then he smiled at her. “But that doesn't change the way I feel about you."

"Then that's all that really matters," she said.

Ben Stone put down his cards and got up from the table. He picked up his hat and cane and came over to them. Scott watched as he approached. He was a tall man, very fit looking, with short, neatly trimmed dark hair and gray eyes. He was clean-shaven except for a dark, close-trimmed, pencil-thin moustache. He was wearing an elegant dark suit and waistcoat, a gold watch chain, and a neatly tied cravat held down by a pearl stickpin. He would have looked like a fashion model, Scott thought, if it wasn't for those light gray eyes. They were alert, shrewd and calculating eyes. Eyes that didn't miss a thing.

"You must be the Montana Kid," said Stone. He offered his hand. Scott took it. "Benjamin J. Stone, at your service."

Scott nodded. "Mr. Stone."

"I've been looking forward to meeting you," said Stone.

"Is that right?"

“I wanted to see the man who managed to capture Jenny's affection. The moment she saw you, she excused herself and rushed right over to you. If I wasn't such an easygoing man, I might have taken exception. Jenny brought me luck. The moment she got up from the table, I started losing. A man can't afford to do much of that in my profession."

"No, I don't guess he can,” said Scott. "Jenny's told me about you, but I don't believe I've seen you in here before."

"I've been playing down at the Alhambra for the past week or so," said Stone. "Thought I'd come back to the Oriental for a while. You never want to push a streak of luck too far in just one place."

"So you've been lucky, then?"

"I like to think that skill has a bit to do with it, but luck plays a part, as well. May I buy you and the lady a drink with my winnings?"

"It would be a pleasure, Mr. Stone, thank you “

"Call me Ben. Kid. All my friends do. And from what I've heard about you, I'd rather count you among my friends than among my enemies."

"You have many enemies, Ben?"

“A few, here and there. Some men like losing less than others. But I've always taken great care to stay on the right side of the law. Sometimes the only thing between you and a bullet is the local lawman, isn't that right, Marshal?"

Scott turned to see that Wyatt Earp had come up behind them.

"Isn't what right, Mr. Stone?"

"I was just telling the Kid here that a man always has to have respect for the local law, because sometimes it's all that stands between him and a bullet. Isn't that right?”

"I reckon I can go along with that," said Wyatt. He glanced at Scott's open coat. "See you got that fancy gun rig George Spangenberg had over in his shop."

"That's right, Marshal. But I made sure to get that special permit from your brother before I put ‘em on. And I picked up that one that he was keeping for me, too."

“I know. I heard about that. Seein' as how you're workin’ to keep order in here, I don't guess I mind that too much, so long as things don't get out of hand. And I suppose that havin' you wearin' your guns is a lot safer than havin' you without 'em. Otherwise you're liable to prove a temptation to certain folks around here.”

"I appreciate your understanding, Marshal," Scott said. "Like I told you before, I'll do my best to stay out of trouble."

"Speakin' of trouble," Wyatt said, “you bought those guns from Zeke didn't you?"

"That's right,” said Scott, suddenly on guard.

"Mind if I see one?"

"Not at all." Scott took one of the Colts out and handed it to Wyatt.

"Sure is gaudy-lookin'," Wyatt said. "I figure folks will be askin' about your guns as much as they talk about how fast you are with 'em. You seen Zeke since he sold 'em to you?"

"No. I can't say as I have. Why'?"

"Just wonderin'," said Wyatt. "Seems after you left, he told George he was feelin' poorly and went home. After he closed up. George rode out to look in on him and see how he was feelin'." Wyatt shook his ahead. "Turns out Zeke wasn't feelin' too good. Fact is, he wasn't feeling anything at all. He was dead."

"Dead!" said Jenny.

"What happened?" asked Stone. "Was it fever?"

"Nope. It was a bullet. A bullet from a .45. just like this one " he handed the Colt back to Scott. "Zeke was shot right through the heart. And ole Ned, down at the corral, said you rented a horse from him this afternoon and rode out of town. Be about the same time Zeke went home to his place.”

"Wyatt!" Jenny exclaimed.

"Are you suggesting that I killed him, Marshal?" Scott asked.

"I'm not suggesting anything, Kid. But I don't suppose you'd care to tell me where you went today?"

"I took a ride out to that old claim my friends had," Scott replied. "I thought maybe I'd file on it and find someone to work it for me. See if they were really going broke or if they'd made a strike and hadn't told anyone about it."

"And what did you decide?"

"I'm still thinkin' about it."

"Anyone see you go out there?"

"Wyatt, how can you suspect Scott of killing Zeke?" asked Jenny, shocked. "Why. Zeke never had an enemy in the world! Scott barely even knew him!"

"Like I said, Jenny. I'm not suggestin' anything just yet. I'm only making an investigation, that's all. What about it Kid?"

"No, nobody saw me," Scott said.

"That horse you rented came back to the corral alone," said Wyatt. "What happened?"

"It spooked at a rattler and threw me, just outside of town,” Scott replied. "I had to walk in. If you want to examine my other gun, Marshal, you'll see that it hasn't been fired, either. I haven't even had a chance to try 'em out yet. As for the one I came to town with, your brother still had that until after I got back." He offered the other one to Earp. but Wyatt made no move to take it.

"So he did," said Wyatt. "I already checked on that. I don't think you had anything to do with Zeke's murder, Kid, but there's some that might. I don't really think you're a bad sort, but I still think you're trouble. Sooner or later, you're goin' to have to make some choices. Whether to walk on the right side of the law or the wrong one. For somebody like you, I don't think there's goin' to be any in-between. I'd think on that if I were you. Jenny, Mr. Stone . . ."

"Aren't you going to ask me where I was this afternoon, Marshal?" Stone asked.

"Why, you were right here. Mr. Stone," said Earp, "chasin' a big winning streak. I already asked."

He touched the brim of his hat, turned and left the saloon.

"Interesting things sure do happen around you, Kid," said Stone. "I wonder what Zeke Bailey did to get himself killed. Like Jenny here just said, he wasn't the sort of man that you'd think of as having any enemies."

"Then maybe someone ought to be lookin’ at his friends," said Scot

“I hardly knew the man myself," said Stone.

“I didn't say you did," said Scott. "Besides, you were here playin' cards all afternoon, in front of witnesses, isn't that right?"

They matched gazes for a moment. Stone smiled, but his eyes didn't.

"That's right. Too bad you weren't around to sit in, Kid. Looks like you could have used some witnesses yourself. I'll be seeing you around. Jenny."

He tipped his hat and left. Scott stared after him.

"There's something very odd about that man,” said Jenny.

"Yes," said Scott, thoughtfully. "There is."

Lucas sat across the table from Wyatt Earp in the Oriental Saloon, taking notes. On the other side of the room, Neilson was playing poker with several men.

No sign of recognition had passed between them when Lucas came in. Good, thought Lucas, the kid's playing it smart. He decided to follow Neilson's lead for the time being. He was already on the scene and would be more on top of the situation.

Maybe he was planning to make contact at the proper time. If not, and he was waiting for him to make the first move, Lucas knew he would have ample opportunity to do so in his cover as a journalist, when he sought to interview the Montana Kid. For now, he was more intent on firmly establishing his cover and getting his own reading on the situation in Tombstone. And in his cover as a journalist, he could hardly pass up the chance to interview the famous Wyatt Earp, who already possessed quite a reputation as a lawman from his days in Dodge

He found Wyatt Earp to be amiable enough, a forthright, plainspoken man who talked easily and openly about his days as a lawman in Dodge City with Bat Masterson. He did notice, however, that while Wyatt Earp was not given to the sort of braggadocio that was often attributed to him later, he did have a tendency to give a version of events that placed him in the most favorable light. Lucas went through the obligatory questions that a writer could be expected to ask and listened to Wyatt's stories about Dodge, then finally brought the conversation around to Tombstone.

"Would you say that Tombstone, in its own way, is as wild a town as Dodge was, Mr. Earp?”

Wyatt seemed to consider his response. "Well, in some ways, yes. And in some other ways, no. We don't really get the cattle drives the way that Dodge does, so there isn't as much trouble with the Texans comin' through. See, these cowboys spend a long time on the trail with nothin' much to do. Driving cattle's plenty of work, make no mistake, but there isn't really anything the men can do for entertainment on the trail, so when they get to town, they tend to run a bit hog-wild. That's understandable, so long as they don't get too out of hand. They gamble away most everything they've earned and what they don't gamble away they either drink up or spend on women. Trouble is, they get all liquored up and decide to hurrah the town, gallopin' through and givin' rebel yells and firin' off their six-guns. Somebody could get hurt and property could get damaged. So when that kind of thing gets started, you have to put a stop to it right quick.

"Now you take most men," he continued, "they get a little too much whiskey, they step out of line and usually all it takes is buffaloing one or two of ‘em to put a stop to things. Man wakes up in jail in the morning with his head sore from too much drink and from a good blow with a six-gun barrel, he understands how things are. He pays his fine and says he's sorry he got drunk and caused a little trouble and he goes his way with no hard feelin's. None on my part, either. But some of them tend to be mean-spirited and those are usually the real troublemakers. You need to come down real hard on them. You have to keep the peace. It's what you're paid for. Of course, every now and then, you get some cowboy who really ties one on and starts stalkin' through the streets, braggin’ about how he's goin' to face down the local lawman. Clay Allison did something like that once. Well, so long as the gent isn't causing any real trouble, then you just keep out of his way and before too long, he'll get tired of it and go sleep it off somewhere.

"Now in Tombstone, the situation's a bit different. It's a boomtown and you get a lot of people comin' through. You get your businessmen and speculators, you get your greenhorns, you get your cowboys, you get your preachers and your gamblers and your bunco artists. . . Wherever you find men makin' money, you find other men ready to separate 'em from it. We got us a sizable bunch of rustlers up in Galeyville and a few of ‘em have ranches just outside of town. Many of 'em were here when Tombstone was no more than a few tents and empty lots, but now they get attracted by the money in this town and a few of 'em don't mind takin' a few shortcuts to get their hands on some of it."

“You're referring to the stagecoach robberies that you've been having lately?" Lucas said.

“That, for one," said Wyatt. "Once a man takes it in his head to steal some stock, he hasn't got far to go to holdin' up a stage. And he can make a lot more money that way. Then there's claim jumpin'. We've had our share of that, as well. Every now and then we have a shootin'. That's why we have an ordinance against carryin' guns in town, though that doesn't stop some people.”

"I heard about some shootings you had here a little while ago," said Lucas, prompting him.

"That's right. Had two right here in this saloon," said Wyatt. "Matter of fact, that young fella playin' cards right ova there was the one that did it."

"You're talking about the Montana Kid?" asked Lucas, turning around. “Which one is he'?"

"The one with the light blond hair, wearin' it long, like a plainsman.”

“So that's him, is it?" Lucas said. "He looks very young."

"He's young, all right," said Wyatt, "but Billy the Kid was even younger when he killed his first man. You don't need hair on your chin to pull a trigger, mister."

"No, I guess you don't, at that," said Lucas. “But I was referring to the murders of those three miners out at their claim a little while back.”

Wyatt Earp frowned. "Which three miners is that?"

“Let's see, I think I wrote their names down somewhere." Lucas said, glancing through his notebook as if he needed to refresh his memory. "Ah, here we are. Their names were Ben Summers, Josh Billings and Joe McEnery."

Wyatt Earp was still frowning. "You sure you got that right, mister? This is the first I've heard of it."

Lucas looked up at him sharply. "It would have been about a couple of weeks back," he said. "Three men found shot dead out at their claim. Very mysterious circumstances. Apparently, their murderers were never found."