The clerk looked down at the gun, which Butler had forgotten he was holding in his hand.
“Is there some problem, sir?”
“No,” Butler said, holstering the weapon. “No problem. At least, not one with the hotel. I’ll be checking out come morning.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, sir.”
Butler went up to his room, hoping that whoever the assassins were they’d come for him soon. He needed to get some sleep if he was going to get an early start.
CHAPTER 4
Dutch and Ben approached the front desk, and as the clerk looked up they stuck both their guns in his face.
“Room number for the gambler, Butler,” Dutch said.
“Sir, I cannot—” the clerk started, but Dutch clubbed him with the barrel of his gun, not letting him finish. Even before he hit the ground Dutch had the register book turned around and open.
“Six,” he said to Ben. “Let’s go.”
They crept up the stairs, which creaked audibly beneath their combined weight. Once they reached the top of the stairs they moved single file down the hall toward room six, guns at the ready. When they reached room six, Butler’s, they stepped each to one side of the door, then Dutch signaled Ben to kick it in. They’d done this many times before. The best time to catch somebody off guard was when they were in bed, alone or with someone.
Ben stepped back, kicked the door in, and leaped into the room. Dutch came in behind him. They swept the room with their guns ready, but nobody was there.
“What the—” Dutch said.
“Where is the cocksucker?” Ben demanded.
The door to room seven, across the hall, opened, and Butler stepped out, gun in hand.
“You boys looking for me?”
Dutch turned and gave Butler no choice. The gambler pulled the trigger as Dutch was bringing his gun around. The bullet punched the man in the chest, dead center. Shoot for the largest part of the body, Butler had been taught years ago, especially when you have no time to aim.
Ben saw Dutch stagger back and land on the bed, blood blossoming on his chest. He turned and looked at Butler, who said, “Don’t,” but to no avail. Ben tried to bring his gun around, but he was too slow. The gambler drilled him through the heart, and Ben fell dead on the floor at the foot of the bed, virtually at his partner’s feet.
Butler heard footsteps in the hall and turned in time to see Three-Eyed Jack appear in the doorway, gun in hand. He tensed, but realized the man wasn’t there to kill him.
Jack surveyed the scene and lowered his gun.
“Looks like I got here too late to help,” he said, holstering his weapon.
“I appreciate the gesture.”
Jack stepped into the room, checked the two men, found them good and dead.
“Know who these two jaspers are?”
“Not a clue. What tipped you off?”
“I heard a shot in the street. That you?”
“One of them, I guess,” Butler said. “Took a shot and missed.”
Three-Eyed Jack turned and looked at the door to room seven, which was wide open.
“Looks like you were ready for ’em.”
“After that first shot, I’d of been a fool not to be.” Butler ejected the spent shells from his gun, replaced them, and holstered it. “Guess the sheriff should be here soon.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jack said. “That’ll depend on whether or not he’s awake.”
“The clerk?”
“They knocked him out, but he’s alive.”
“Good. We might as well go across to my room, have a drink and wait to see if the law shows up.”
“This ain’t your room?”
“No.”
“Guess they had it wrong.”
“I guess so.”
They went across to room seven and left the door open. Butler retrieved a bottle of whiskey from a chest of drawers and two glasses. He poured two fingers into each glass and handed Jack one.
“This happened to you before?” Jack asked.
“Once or twice.”
“Always strangers?”
“Usually.”
Jack took a sip and said, “Why do I get the feeling you got hell on your trail?”
CHAPTER 5
Sheriff Pat Hadley first listened to Butler’s story, then heard what Three-Eyed Jack had to say.
“It was self-defense, Sheriff,” Jack finished. “Ain’t no doubt about that at all.”
“Well,” Hadley said, scratching his balding head, “I reckon if you say so, Jack.”
“What about my say so, Sheriff?” Butler asked.
“Sorry, Mister,” the lawman said, “but I don’t know you. I do know Jack, here, though. If he says you’re okay, I guess that’s good enough for me.”
Butler looked at Jack, who shrugged.
“One thing’s got me puzzled, though,” the sheriff admitted.
“And what’s that?” Butler asked.
“If they was after you, why’d they kick in that door?”
“Good question,” Butler said. “I guess maybe they got the wrong room number.”
“Could be,” the sheriff said. “Well, I’ll get me some boys to carry them bodies out.”
The sheriff left room seven and Butler asked Jack, “Another drink?”
“One more ain’t gonna hurt nothin’,” Jack said.
Ty Butler closed the door and poured them each two fingers more of whiskey.
“Pretty smart move,” Jack said.
“What is?”
“Checkin’ into one room but stayin’ across the hall,” Jack said. “All you gotta do is slip the clerk a few extra dollars.”
“That what I did?” Butler asked.
Jack shrugged. “Don’t matter, I guess. Whatever you got doggin’ your trail, it’s your business. I think you forgot about somethin’, though.”
“What’s that?”
“That marker the Troy kid gave each of us for ten thousand,” Jack told him.
“I figured that was no good,” Butler said.
“No, the kid’s father will stand good the debt,” Jack said.
“I’ve got to get going at first light,” Butler said.
“You gonna walk away from that marker?”
“Not if you’ll give me fifty cents on the dollar.”
Jack looked surprised.
“Five thousand for a ten thousand marker?”
“Five thousand profit for you.”
“You serious?”
“Yep.”
“Ain’t got that much on me.”
“Meet me at the livery stable in the morning,” Butler said. “I’ll sell it to you then.”
“You got a deal, friend.”
Jack tossed off the last of his drink and put the glass down on the top of the chest.
“Guess I’ll turn in myself, so’s I can get up nice and early.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Jack paused as he opened the door and said, “Hope the rest of your night is quiet.”
“So do I.”
When Butler came out of the livery leading his saddled horse he found Three-Eyed Jack waiting for him outside.
“Nice roan,” Jack said. “He got a name?”
“Not really,” Butler said. “I just usually call him Stupid.”
Jack looked at the horse’s face and eyes, and said with a shrug, “It suits him, I guess.”
Jack took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Butler.
“Five thousand dollars, as agreed.”
Butler accepted the envelope and put it in his inside jacket pocket without counting the money. This plus what he had won last night would be a good stake for Dodge City, and his trip west. He took the marker from Sam Troy and handed it over to Three-Eyed Jack. After that the two men shook hands.
“I gotta ask you somethin’,” Jack said.
“Go ahead.”