“I was glad I was there,” Butler said, “and I’ll help more if something happens while I’m here.”
“You know,” Brown said, “once you’re seen takin’ sides, you’re gonna become a target.”
“It looks like that already happened, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah…”
“What about guns in town?” Butler asked. “If there’s enough to be hired to go against you, what about some being hired to work for you?”
“Jim’s not gonna hire any guns, Butler,” Brown said. “That ain’t his style.”
“If he was still a lawman, wouldn’t he hire more deputies if he needed them?”
“Well, yeah…”
“What makes this any different?”
Brown thought a moment, then said, “I don’t know, it just is. Don’t get me wrong. He’ll accept help, like from you or anyone who wants to help. But he ain’t gonna go out beggin’.”
“I’m not suggesting that—” Butler said, but was interrupted by the appearance of Jim Masterson.
“Suggestin’ what?” he asked.
“Butler was just askin’ why we don’t, uh, enlist some help.”
“Enlist? You mean, like pay?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Look,” Masterson said, “we lost our jobs and some folks are gonna use that fact to come after us now, when they couldn’t do it while we wore badges. That’s just somethin’ we’re gonna have to deal with. It won’t last forever.”
“Just until somebody’s dead, maybe,” Butler said.
“Maybe,” Masterson said, “but that won’t be my choice. Look, Butler, you’ve helped enough. You don’t have to—”
“If I can help more, I will.”
“We’re even, you know,” Masterson said. “After this mornin’.”
“What was that about, anyway?’ Brown asked.
“I don’t know,” Butler said. “Could be a carry over from the other night.”
“I’m willin’ to bet a man like you has got enemies of his own,” Brown said.
“That’s true enough. Could have nothing to do with you and Jim, at all.”
“But we can’t be sure of that,” Masterson said. “You find Thompson?”
“No, I’ll talk to him later.” He decided not to go through the whole thing about Ryerson again. Besides, he had Mary Jane Healy trying to find out some information. “What are your plans for today?”
“Me? I’m gonna run my business.” He looked the part, his black suit and white shirt matching Butler’s.
“What about your bartender?”
“l’ll talk to him when he comes back.”
“Think he will come back?”
“Oh, he’ll come back,” Masterson said. “He’s arrogant, and he’s got his brother-in-law to protect him. He’ll be back.”
“Well, see if he knows anything about those men that tried for me this morning,” Butler said. “It sure seemed to me that he knew what was going on.”
“Don’t worry,” Masterson said. “We’ll ask him.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Butler headed for the door.
“You still interested in an early game?” Masterson called after him.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Check back with me later. I may have something for you.”
“Thanks.
As Butler left Brown turned to Jim Masterson.
“What do you think of him?”
“He seems to be able to handle himself.”
“I mean, are you suspicious of him?”
“What for?”
Brown explained about Butler being suspicious of Ryerson, and why.
“So you’re thinkin’ we should be suspicious of him?”
“I’m just applyin’ his own rules to him,” Brown said. “He did pop up out of nowhere and take a hand the other night.”
“Yeah, but he also stayed around and ended up gettin’ shot at for it,” Masterson said.
“Yeah, well,” Brown said, “maybe I’ll just be as suspicious as he is for a while, until he proves himself.”
“He’s proved himself to me already,” Masterson said, “but you do what you gotta do.”
“I always do, Jim.”
CHAPTER 37
Ryerson had his meal in a small café off of Front Street and then went to his hotel. Before going to bed he took the wooden chair from the room and jammed it beneath the doorknob, then put the pitcher and bowl on the windowsill, so no one could open the window without knocking it off. Only when he felt he was safe from being surprised did he lie on the bed, his gun belt on the bedpost within easy reach.
He only needed a few hours, because he had ridden day and night to get to Dodge City.
Butler knew he’d only given M.J. a couple of hours to find something on Ryerson, but he was impatient. The man intrigued him, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he’d just had gunman after him for so long, he had to check everybody out.
When he entered the press was going, manned by M.J.’s brother, Lou. Apparently, he’d managed to find his way to work. He waved, received nothing back, and went into the office where M.J. was sitting at the desk.
“I know, I know,” he said, waving a hand, “you need more time—” he started.
“Actually, I don’t,” she said. “I checked and checked but there’s nothing in any western paper about a Kevin Ryerson.”
“What about eastern papers?”
“We don’t have many—”
“I saw a New York Herald in there when I was looking.”
“We have a few, but—”
“Good, then it won’t take you long to check them?”
She frowned.
“All this for a meal?”
“At the restaurant of your choice.”
“Well,” she said, “we could go back to your friend Hank’s place, but I want this meal to cost you, so I choose the Delmonico.”
“You’ve got a deal. I check back with you later.”
“Wait.”
“What?” He stopped at the door.
“How about a word about the shooting this morning?” she asked. “Are you sure you didn’t know any of those men?”
“Didn’t know them,” he said, “and never saw them.”
“Then, can you see any reason for them to try to shoot you?” she asked.
“This is the West, right?” he asked her. “That’s what men out here do, isn’t it? Shoot at each other?”
He left quickly, before she could ask another question.
As Butler came out of the newspaper office he heard his name being called from across the street. He stopped, turned and saw Marshal Fred Singer coming toward him. He waited for the lawman to reach him.
“I’m glad I caught you,” Singer said. “Can you come to my office for a few minutes?”
“What for, Marshal?”
“I just want to have a talk.”
“Actually, I was just going to—”
“I’m makin’ it a request, Butler,” Singer said, “but that could change.”
Butler hesitated a moment, then shrugged and said, “Well, in that case, lead the way.”
Updegraff was heading back to the Lady Gay to talk with his brother-in-law when he was Fred Singer walking with Butler. He watched them just long enough to figure they were going to the lawman’s office, then continued on his way at an increased pace.
“Have a seat,” Singer said.
The marshal’s office was in a two-story brick building. There were several desks for him and his deputies, and the cellblock was on the second floor. It was not typical of any lawman’s office Butler had seen in the past.
Singer hung his hat on a wooden peg on the wall and sat behind his desk. Butler sat in a chair just across from him.
“What’s this about, Marshal?”
“It’s about you, Mr. Butler,” Singer said, “and the possibility that you might be takin’ the wrong side.”