That stopped him for a minute, then he said, "I was walking out for a breath of air. I heard the shots in this direction. Came to see if Miss Topaz was all right."
"Right thoughtful of you," I sneered. "It's just luck she is all right—"
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded, harshly.
"Some of your lunkheads got to playing with guns. Their shots didn't miss Miss Topaz by much—"
"What do you mean my lunkheads?" he snapped.
"Who else would be trying to collect the rewards on my head?"
"It wasn't on my orders," he blustered.
I could only jeer at that.
He glared at me, then subsided. "Believe what you want," he growled.
"I intend to. Either the shots came at your orders, or you don't have any control over your men, Webster. Which is it?"
"If you'll tell me who they are," he said, voice calming some, "I'll look into it."
"How should I know who they are? There were three of them. Two of them got away in the shadows."
He stiffened. "You mean you shot one?"
"If I didn't, I scared the daylights out of him. He dropped mighty fast."
Webster looked troubled. "Who was he?"
"Haven't any idea. Just saw him drop, that's all."
"And you didn't go looking—"
I laughed shortly. "Like you, I was interested in Miss Topaz' welfare. And I didn't want to run into an ambush."
His color mounted, then he got hold of himself. "We'd best go out and look around a bit. I've told my men to lay off you. If you've wounded one of them, he's going to pay for this night's work. I'll have no insubordination in my camp. C'mon, let's get out there."
I opened the door and let him pass through to the rear of the house. I pointed out the direction where I'd seen the man drop, always managing to keep slightly behind Webster as we started out, keeping my hand close to gun-butt. Moonlight filtered down through the leaves of surrounding cottonwood trees.
Stretched prone in the long grass about forty yards from the house was the figure of a man. I caught labored breathing from whoever it was, mingled with an occasional groan. "I'll scratch a match," Webster said, "while you take a look at the scut."
"Uh-uh," I refused, "I'll do the match scratching."
"Don't you trust me?" Webster snarled.
"No more than you do me. Besides, I like to scratch matches."
Webster swore an oath. I scratched a match, while Webster roughly turned the man flat on his back. In the flare of the match we saw it was Hondo Crowell. The man breathed with difficulty, his eyes closed. A stain of crimson ran from his mouth.
Roughly, Webster called him a blundering son-of-a-bitch. I said quietly, "I reckon Fanner Serrano's slug didn't hurt his arm much, though it might have spoiled his aim."
Webster didn't reply. Kneeling at Crowell's side, Webster produced a flask of whisky from his pocket, uncorked it, and forced a drink down Crowell's throat.
The match flame had burned to my fingers. I dropped it and scratched a second flare. Now Crowell's eyes were gazing vacantly around. He coughed and I saw more blood issue from between his lips. Webster gave him a second drink. More coughing and more blood. Then I caught Crowell's voice, speaking with difficulty:
"You, eh, Shel? I reckon—Cardinal—got me. Goddamned —if I know—how I missed. I had a direct—beam on—him —plain as—"
"Shut up, you fool!" Webster cursed, and rapped the man across the mouth with the whisky bottle. Spilled liquor and blood made a splash across Crowell's chest. My match went out and I got a third one flaming. I looked at Crowell. The man had slumped back, eyes still open, but wide, unseeing.
Webster rose from the body, calling Crowell a name and adding, "The bastard is dead. Good riddance."
"I can see why you'd feel that way," I said shortly. "Now all you got to do is send somebody to bury him."
"I was hoping to learn who his pals were," Webster said.
"Don't you know?"
Webster said impatiently, "For God's sakes, Cardinal, you got me all wrong."
"How else could I get you?" I snapped.
He didn't answer that, but walked with long strides back to the house. I followed slightly behind, hand still close to my gun-butt. I wasn't forgetting, for one minute, his underarm gun.
We reentered the kitchen. Topaz was sitting at the table, seemingly lost in thought. After a minute she glanced up and I noticed some of the color had come back to her face. I re-closed and locked the door.
Webster said bluntly, "It was that no-good Crowell. I know who he pals with. If I don't lay down the law to those scuts, come morning! I'll—"
"If you know who they are, Webster," I asked, "why don't you have your pot-bellied marshal take 'em in for questioning?"
He darted a quick glance at me. "I intend to do just that, Cardinal. I don't need you to tell me my business."
"I'm not so sure of that," I said shortly. "It's up to you if you don't want to take my advice."
He was about to say something, then checked the words. I looked at the scattered bits of broken glass on the floor, then, with a wary eye on Webster, started to clean up some of the debris.
Topaz said wearily, "Let it go, Cardinal. I'll clean up in the morning. Now, if you'll both go—"
"You're sure you're all right, Topaz?" Webster asked solicitously. "Maybe you'd like someone to stay with you."
"That's the last thing I want—now," she said shortly. "I just want to be left alone. I don't like being shot at."
"But they weren't shooting at you," Webster said impulsively.
"How do you know who they were shooting at?" I snapped. "You've already stated they weren't operating under your orders."
Before Webster could think up an answer for that one, Topaz rose from her chair, passed through the bedroom and opened the front door. "Good night, gentlemen," she said briefly.
Webster and I got the idea. We both said good-night and passed through to the street. I heard the door close behind us.
Side by side, Webster and I both made our way back to the main street of Onyxton, though I was still walking slightly to his rear. Neither of us spoke and I could sense he was boiling within at the turn the night's events had taken.
Just before we parted at the Onyxton Saloon and Gambling Parlors, he paused a moment. "Cardinal," he said coldly, "I've stood just about enough of your stalling. It's none of your business, but I don't mind telling you that I've got to be allowed to cross my wagons over Box-CT holdings. So it's up to you. Either you're with me or against me."
"Meaning what?" I asked quietly.
"I'll be frank. I'm not sure you're to be trusted—"
"So you tried to get Hondo Crowell and his pals to rub me out tonight—"
He swore harshly. "That's not true. I don't understand Hondo's actions, after I gave orders. But he must have thought he could collect the rewards on your scalp and was acting on his own. I assure you he wasn't acting on my say-so."
I thought, You blasted liar! But I didn't put it into words. I said, "So what do you expect of me?"
"You can prove yourself to me by getting rid of Tawney."
"You mean killing him?"
"Do you know of any better way?" he asked cruelly.
"I can think of a better price than five hundred for the job."
"I'll give it some thought," he said briefly.
"Don't bother. A thousand, or nothing."
"You're pretty damn cocky, Cardinal. We'd better come to some sort of terms, or you'll be sorry."
"Meaning just what?"
"I'll make other arrangements—and they'll include you as well as Tawney."
"That sounds like a threat, Webster."
He laughed harshly. "It was meant to be, Cardinal. Now you'd better do some damn fast thinking toward your own interests."
"You're laying it on the line. You mean, if I don't kill Tawney, you'll arrange to have us both bumped off."