The gold-studded clerk eyed him fearfully. The drunk slept on. No longer snoring. The only sound in the lobby was the heavy tick of a large clock above the door. Its hands pointed to the hour of two o’clock. Peaceville was suddenly quiet.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THOSE who considered themselves the good citizens if Peaceville didn’t go to bed after witnessing the scene in front of the sheriff’s office. Edge, stretched out on his own bed in the hotel room, awake and fully dressed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking out a plan of campaign, neither knew nor cared what the townspeople were doing. He had stood at the window for several minutes after returning to the hotel room, watched as the street cleared of people save for Bell and Seward on sentry duty up on the sidewalk: and the grisly severed head, tipped over on its right side in the dust. But that couldn’t count because no part of Sheriff Peacock could be considered people any more.
There was a period of activity a few moments later when Forrest, Douglas and Scott emerged from the office and swaggered across the street to the Rocky Mountain Saloon. Bringing up the rear, Seward could not resist a sadistic kick at the head, which arced clumsily over the sidewalk to smash a window on the side of the street Edge had only a restricted view of. When the five had entered the swinging doors of the saloon, Edge could hear some shouts, a woman’s response and then some laughter. Then peace returned to Peaceville, apparently for the duration of the night if its citizens were prepared to allow it to be so.
Edge wasn’t.
So he lay on the bed, contemplating the ceiling, deciding how the murderers of Jamie were going to die. Then the rap of knuckles on the door sent his hand to the floor to snatch up the Henry and he was suddenly sitting up, rifle aimed, finger on the trigger.
“Come in slow and live longer,” Edge said, narrowed eyes glinting through the darkness which was suddenly split by a line of light, widening as the door was pushed further into the room, leaving a section of the hallway to view. Edge’s finger whitened on the trigger, eased slightly when he saw Gail step into view. She looked afraid. Edge licked his lips. “Last year I blasted what I took to be a nightmare,” he said evenly. “Turned out I half killed a corporal come to wake me up. You ain’t no nightmare, but best you say something so I know you ain’t a dream.”
Gail swallowed hard, stepped closer to the door. “We’ve had a meeting,” she said, and the words rasped over her nervousness.
“We?”
“The Citizen’s Council,” she explained, gaining a little confidence. “Honey’s a member. When they made their decision he suggested I come to see you. He thought you and I … well that we were friends.”
Edge heard the shuffle of feet in the hallway, out of the angle of view and he was suddenly off the bed, standing in a crouch, the Henry’s muzzle swinging from one side to the other. But then Honey forced a smile to her lips and raised a hand in a gesture of peace.
“Honey’s here,” she said. “And Mr. Chase, the banker. Eddie Old the schoolmaster and Reverend Peake. We’re a deputation Mr. Edge.”
Edge shook his head. “I don’t want no deputation. They had you come here, you knocked and you’ve spoken up ‘til now. You say the rest.”
Gail looked to either side of the doorway, and the man’s voice said something in low tones, the sense of which did not reach the interior of the room. Then the girl held out her hand, received something and dropped to her side again. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, just across the threshold, not really in the room.
“The town’s Citizen Committee had a meeting and decided it had to rid itself of the gang of vicious swine which is trying to take it over,” she paused, to see if this stirred anything in the taciturn Edge, and was disappointed that he continued to look at her with complete disinterest. She hurried on. “We—the men of the town anyway could go up against Forrest and his gang. And the committee’s certain they could oust them but a lot of people would get killed before it was all over.”
“You mean innocent people,” Edge said. “You said innocent people down on the street awhile back.”
“Very well,” she replied with a show of impatience. “Innocent people if you will. What do words matter at a time like this?”
“They matter,” Edge came back. “You’re using them, in a kind of sidestepping way, but I figure I get your drift. You want me to put my life on the line by going up against Frank Forrest and the rest.”
Gail nodded. “Yes, that’s it. I wouldn’t have put it that way. But we want you to rid Peaceville of that vermin.”
“No matter how you put it, comes out the same,” Edge said and in a dimly lit room Gail could not see if his grin was touched by humor. “Guess I haven’t led an entirely blame-free life,” he went on. “No ... no, I guess nobody could call me innocent. I get killed, well ...”
“Oh you won’t get killed,” Gail said. “I’m sure you’re better than all them put together. You thought you were, awhile back.”
Edge didn’t like getting caught out by Gail, and was suddenly angry. She heard it in his tone as he spoke: “How much you offering?” The words seemed to be thrown at her, hard and fast like bullets.
She raised her arm from her side, offering him a handful of bills. “Five hundred dollars,” she told him.
Edge nodded. “That’s a hundred dollars a man.”
The girl drew in her breath, shocked. “You don’t have to kill them. Just rid the town of them.”
Edge nodded. “That’s a hundred dollars a man.”
The girl drew in her breath, shocked. “You don’t have to kill them. Just rid the town of them.”
“Throw the money across,” Edge told her and she complied. Chase had obviously opened his bank. The notes were new, held together in a block by a paper band. Edge flipped through the money, enjoying the feel of its newness. “You people are paying the freight,” he said, looking to the doorway. “I make the rules on delivery.”
The girl looked to the left and right, and then back into the room and nodded.
“They may be vermin,” Edge told her. “But I ain’t no rat catcher. My way, and my way means dead.”
Gail nodded again. Not liking it, her expression showing that she regarded Edge as no better than the men she had just paid him to kill. There was more murmuring down the hall and Gail looked away from the door, nodded and returned her attention to Edge.
“We’d appreciate it if you didn’t take too long, Mr. Edge.”
“I don’t work too long for five hundred,” he answered. “It’ll just cover the night. If any of them are still alive tomorrow, the town will have to pass the hat again.”
The girl’s lips tightened and there was more murmuring from the unseen Citizens Committee. It had a dissenting sound. Edge made a motion with his free hand.
“Now get out of here and tell them to stay off the street if they don’t want their innocent heads blown off.”
The girl returned to the hallway, pulling the door closed and Edge realized he could have been wrong, but just as her face disappeared from view, it showed a flicker of concern. Alone, he grinned and flicked through the five hundred, enjoying again the feel of the crisp new bills. Getting paid to do something he had intended to do anyway was unexpected and added flavor to the experience. It didn’t make him anymore determined to succeed but it added fullness to the anticipation. After the sound of shuffling feet in the hallway had diminished, he spent thirty minutes cleaning and oiling the Henry and the Remington, polishing the blades of the razor and knife until they gleamed. Then he climbed out of the window onto the roof of the porch and prized back the board to add the five hundred to his capital.