“How much more?”
More than he was going to say. He wasn’t going to give Hank up, but he did mention how disturbed Corbin seemed to be to find out that Ryerson was a bounty man.
“So, he explained that,” Thompson said. “He told you he hated bounty hunters.”
“That Corbin has a price on his head and that’s why he was bothered?”
Butler shrugged.
“Okay, so maybe Ryerson recognized him,” Thompson said. “Or maybe he’s the reason Ryerson is here, and you got nothin’ to worry about.”
“Why’s he hanging around me, then?”
Thompson smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Maybe he likes you.”
Butler ignored him.
“He’s too damn pleased with himself about something,” he said. “Thinks he’s got something over me.”
“Like what?”
“I guess I should find out,” Butler said.
“Push him into makin’ a move?”
“If he’s got a move to make,” Butler said.
CHAPTER 49
Ryerson ranked his targets first, second, and third, according to the price he’d get for them. If he’d listed them according to reputation, they would have been in a different order, but his job was about money, not reputation. The only problem he faced was that once he grabbed the first one, the other two would be alerted. On the other hand, once he grabbed the first one—especially if he was forced to kill him—the other two might think they were safe.
He left his hotel carrying his rifle and wearing his pistol, both cleaned to within an inch of their lives and in perfect working order. He headed for Front Street, and his first payday.
Butler and Thompson were crossing Front Street when they saw Ryerson coming their way. They noticed a hitch in his stride when he saw both of then, but then he came ahead. Both men were experienced enough to see the tension in the man, and to feel it in their own muscles. One wrong twitch could cause a bad result.
“Just the man I was looking for,” Butler said.
“What a coincidence,” Ryerson said. “You’re first on my list, Butler.”
“You have a list?” Thompson asked.
“That’s right,” Ryerson said, “and you’re not on it, Thompson—unless you choose to be.”
“You little pissant—” Thompson started, but Butler broke in.
“No need to get Ben involved,” Butler said. “Just for the sake of curiosity, Ryerson, who are the other two?”
“Why do you care?”
“You’re not the only one to ask me that lately,” Butler said.
“‘Care will kill a cat’,” Ryerson said. “I think that was Shakespeare.”
“Actually, Ben Johnson got there before Shakespeare,” Butler told him.
“What the hell are you two talkin’ about?” Ben Thompson asked.
“Playwrights,” Butler said.
“Jesus,” Thompson said. “You’re both too damned educated for me. If you’re gonna shoot at each other, do it and be done with it.”
“Is that what we’re going to do, Ryerson?” Butler asked.
“Here’s my problem, Butler,” Ryerson said. “The price on you is dead only. The other two are wanted dead or alive.”
“Why not take them first?’ Thompson asked.
“The price here is higher,” Ryerson told Thompson.
“I’m curious now,” Thompson said. “Why would you even take on a dead-only bounty? Isn’t that close to legal murder?”
“Especially since this bounty is private,” Butler said. “It’s got nothing to do with the law.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Ryerson said.
“You don’t know who’s putting up the money?” Butler asked.
“No idea,” Ryerson said. “I got a contact back East who gives me information—the only information I care about.”
“The price,” Thompson said.
“Exactly. Ready to do this, Butler?”
“Right here? On the street?”
“It’s as good a place as any.”
“This ain’t legal.”
Ryerson smiled.
“My contact says I won’t have a problem with that. Are you gonna take a hand here, Thompson? ’Cause I gotta say, that would change my order. I’m not foolish enough to take on the two of you at the same time.”
“So you’ll just move on to the next name on the list?” Thompson asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“Then I’m in,” Thompson said, “so you’ll just have to move on.”
“Have it your wa—”
“No,” Butler said, “wait. I can’t do that.” He looked at Thompson. “I can’t just send him on to the next man. It’s not right.”
“What the hell’s right got to do with it when you’re dealin’ with a bounty hunter?”
“I’m sorry,” Butler said, “I just can’t do it.” He looked at Ryerson. “Let’s do this, just you and me.”
“You this good, Ryerson?” Thompson asked. “You always do this face-to-face?”
“I’m not a back shooter, if that’s what you mean.”
“That makes you a man among bounty hunters, I guess,” Thompson said. “I’ll just wait over here until you’re finished, Butler. I’ll buy you a drink to celebrate.”
“Same offer apply to me, Thompson?” Ryerson asked.
Thompson ignored him and moved away from the two men.
“Come on, Butler,” Ryerson said. “Let’s do this before the street gets too busy. One of us might get trampled.”
“I still got some questions, Ryerson.”
“I told you, I don’t know who put up the—”
“Not that,” Butler said. “The other two.”
“Oh, them,” Ryerson said. “I thought I recognized one of them last night, but it didn’t come to me until mornin’.”
“Corbin?”
Ryerson nodded.
“He’s wanted in Missouri,” he said. “Small price, but I’ll take it. He’s third on my list.”
“And who’s the other one?”
“Ah,” Ryerson said, “baggin’ this man would add to my rep, if I cared about that. He’s supposed to be dead already, so seein’ him here was a surprise.”
Hank, Butler thought, it had to be Hank.
“But I think I’ll keep that to myself,” Ryerson said.
“Just on the off chance you kill me, you might decide to go after the bounty.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“We’ll see.”
Ryerson set his rifle down against a post and stepped into the street.
“Let’s do this,” he said. “I’ve got a long day.”
“What’s goin’ on?”
Thompson turned to see who had asked the question, saw the badge before he saw the man.
“Marshal.”
Fred Singer looked over at Butler and Ryerson.
“Who’s that talkin’ to Butler? It doesn’t look friendly.”
“It ain’t,” the gambler said, “in the next few minutes one of them is gonna kill the other.”
“What?” Singer asked. “Not in my town.”
Singer took one step and Thompson said, “I wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s between the two of them.”
Singer looked at him.
“Are you tellin’ me not to interfere?”
“Marshal,” Thompson said, “I’m just givin’ you a friendly warnin’.”
“Who’s play are you backin’, Thompson? Must be Butler’s. You think he’s gonna come out of this alive? Looks like gambler versus gunman to me. You better let me stop it.”
“This is what they both want, marshal,” Thompson said. “I think you and me just better butt out.”
Singer eyed Thompson warily. He knew the man was both gambler and gunman.
“If I try to stop them,” he asked, “will you stop me?”
“Let’s not find out.”
Ryerson backed into the street, his hand down by his gun. Butler stepped down, brushed his jacket back over his holster. Oddly, he thought it was refreshing to find someone who was coming right at him and not trying to bushwhack him.