“What is wrong with you, lad?” Patrick asked him. “You’re letting him drive you all over the place!”
“Patrick.” Corey placed his arm around the old man’s shoulders and pulled him close so that no one else could hear him. “I need you to help me now! I have to put him down before the end of the fourth. Do I make my move now? Or do I wait one more round?”
“Make your move?” Patrick asked. “By the end of the fourth? Do you mean to tell me you’re...” The old man smiled. “And I was believing something was wrong. Did you make a bet you didn’t tell me about?”
“Patrick!” The referee was signaling Corey to come out of his corner. “Wait? Or take him now?”
Patrick stopped smiling and met Corey’s gaze. “You take that little fancy down now and stop embarrassing me!”
Corey smiled, a mistake he later learned, but he could not have kept the expression from his face if he had wanted to. “You watch your back, Patrick! Let me worry about the ring.”
Lightning Dan danced out to meet Corey. “You tired of hurting yet, Gravel Pit? Thinking of finding a new profession?”
“I don’t think so,” Corey answered. “I like to work with my hands.”
The starting bell rang and Rock Quarry Callaghan decked Lighting Dan. It was the first solid punch Corey had tried to throw that evening, and Lightning Dan clearly wasn’t expecting it. One moment the boxer from Kansas City was grinning in anticipated triumph. The next he was staggering backward all the way to the ropes that mark the edges of the ring. It would have been a mercy if he had fallen, but God wasn’t feeling merciful that day and neither was Rock Quarry Callaghan. He was next to Dan even as he rebounded off the ropes, landing body blows that lifted the smaller man to the tips of his toes. Two ribs cracked, and Corey turned his attention to his opponent’s too handsome face. Left, right, left, Dan’s head never had the opportunity to fully snap back to its normal position. The referee was moving in to separate the two men; the crowd was screaming in a frenzy. Corey took a step back, throwing out his left arm to ward off the referee. He cocked his right arm far, far back. Dan tottered helplessly in front of him. The stupid fool had really believed he could defeat boxers like the Gentleman and Rock Quarry Callaghan. It was time for Dan to learn that he really didn’t belong in the ring. Corey swung with everything he had, snapping Dan back off the ropes to collapse truly unconscious on the floor.
Corey spun to share in Patrick’s wild grin. The old man leaped with joy and threw his old cap high into the air. “You did it, me lad. I knew you weren’t afraid of Steed’s little fancy.” The crowd, wild with excitement, began to pile into the ring to congratulate Corey. For a few critical seconds Corey lost himself in the celebration. Then with growing dread he realized who he did not see celebrating — and who he did not see paying his debts.
Suddenly frantic, Corey began peering over the heads around him, searching for Steed and Miss Parson. They had left their place at the ring, and he couldn’t find them in the crowd. Surely he ought to be able to see that shock of red hair even in this press of people. They weren’t by the front door, nor by the barrels of beer, nor — wait! There was Steed striding purposefully toward the back entrance, left arm firmly around Miss Parson’s shoulders, propelling her along beside him. His left hand clutched, but did not use, his walking stick.
At the door, they struggled briefly before Steed dropped his walking stick and grabbed hold of Miss Parson’s right bicep. Then they were through the door and out of Corey’s line of vision.
Corey turned back to Patrick, who had let Corey slip from his attention as he accepted the congratulations of a mob of excited spectators. He reached between two people to grasp Patrick’s forearm. The old man looked over at him, caught the frantic expression on Corey’s face, and immediately lost his grin. Corey pulled him close enough that he could shout in the old man’s ear. “Steed has Miss Parson!” He knew Patrick wouldn’t understand that, but he said it anyway. “Remember to watch your back!”
Then he let go of Patrick and forced his way out of the ring. By this time, others were starting to look for Steed as well. They were quite naturally interested in acquiring their winnings. Corey still didn’t know it, but it was his smile before the start of the round that had forewarned Steed of his plans and given him the few moments lead he needed to make good his escape. Corey did not stop to rally these men to help him, however. In his gut he knew that he could not afford to delay.
Corey burst out onto the street and looked wildly in all directions. Some of the crowd had preceded him, others were spilling out behind. He caught a glimpse of what might be Steed’s tall head turning left into a side street and sprinted in that direction. The streets were dark and most buildings did not have lanterns on the porch to help illuminate the way. But the moon was nearly full and four million stars burned overhead, so Corey could see a little as he pursued Steed and Miss Parson. He dashed into the side street in time to see a man and woman turning the corner at the end. He reached that corner in time to see Steed half dragging Miss Parson down the middle of what was really just a little alleyway. The light was poor, but strong enough for Corey to see the tiny derringer jammed into Miss Parson’s ribs when Steed whirled them both around to face him.
Steed’s face was a scowl of bitter hatred. “Callaghan!” he spat the word as if it were a curse. Spittle bubbled on his lower lip. “Callaghan! You bastard mick!”
Corey stopped running, standing perhaps ten feet away from Steed. He put his hands palm out in front of him in an effort to appear less threatening. Rats squeaked and scurried near the sides of the buildings, but no other sounds and no hint of help could be heard coming.
The spittle dropped off of Steed’s chin. “You cheated me, Callaghan! No man cheats me!”
“It was a fair fight,” Corey protested. He didn’t add that it was quite likely the only fair fight Lighting Dan had ever had.
“I didn’t want a fair fight!” Steed snarled. “I told you to take a dive!”
“And I showed you I couldn’t be intimidated.”
The hand on the derringer wavered as Steed started to point it toward Corey. Then he changed his mind and dug the muzzle back into Miss Parson’s ribs. She grunted quietly with the pain. “Really, William,” she noted, “I don’t understand your reaction. You simply lost a gamble. It happens to the best of us. It’s hardly appropriate to make a scene.”
Steed twisted the derringer cruelly in Miss Parson’s side. “Shut up! I will not be cheated! I will not be made a fool!”
Miss Parson’s eyes flashed with surging anger, and she pivoted to face Steed, turning her side to Callaghan, letting Steed plant his gun firmly in her stomach. “I did not cheat you! I told you clearly I did not believe Mr. Callaghan could be convinced to take a fall. You believed otherwise. And you lost!”
Corey was concerned that Miss Parson was pulling the full brunt of Steed’s anger onto herself. He took a step forward, drawing a menacing gesture from Steed’s gun. “You weren’t cheated, Mr. Steed. There’s not a man or woman in Denver who would think that you were. Now why don’t you put down the gun and be man enough to take your loss?”
“Man enough!” Steed stepped backward and yanked Miss Parson’s arm, spinning her about so that she stood between the two men, facing Corey. He dug the derringer into the small of her back. “Do you really think a man takes a loss? I’m not beaten yet.” He took another backward step, dragging Miss Parson with him. “I am not beaten yet!” He said more firmly. “And you and Miss Parson and that stupid old man will pay dearly for what you did to my Lightning tonight.”