“I’ll do it,” Willa said.
Everyone looked at her. She was at her father’s shoulder now, having just refilled his cup.
Looking toward her voice, Papa said, “Daughter... what are you—”
“The stranger and I chatted briefly. He seemed friendly enough. He seemed... to like me well enough. I could approach him, easily, and if Harry Gauge or any of his outlaw deputies notice, they won’t do anything about it. They won’t like it, but... they won’t do anything.”
Her father’s milky eyes were on her, and he was frowning.
Then a shrewd expression came over the weathered features and he said, “There are things a woman can manage that a man can’t. Yes, daughter, I think you’re the one to have word with Banion.”
“Or whoever he is.”
“Or whoever he is. But whoever he is, he knows his way around a gun, and that’s what we need right now.”
Her frown got into her voice. “Papa, I won’t hire your killers for you.”
He reached for her hand and found it. “Not asking you to, girl. Just see if you can get a name out of him. And, whatever it might be, ask him if he knows Raymond Parker of Denver... who happens to be an old friend of your father’s.”
A meeting of a related nature, but of an entirely different sort, was under way in Sheriff Harry Gauge’s office. No coffee here — just a bottle of whiskey and some scattered glasses. Nobody had been at the door to take their hats for them and, with the exception of the sheriff himself whose Stetson was on a hook behind him, the attendees kept their lids on.
Seated across from Gauge at his desk were Deputy Vint Rhomer and two rough-looking gunnies with deputy badges pinned on their shirts. After what happened this morning to Riley and Jackson, the sheriff had handed out deputy badges to all his bunch.
Lanky, dark-haired, dark-eyed Jake Britt wore a gray shirt, black vest, fairly new Levi’s, and a low-slung Colt. 44. His face was narrow, his mustache and eyebrows thick, smudgy dark stubble on cheeks and chin. He had killed half-a-dozen men that Gauge knew of.
Short, burly Lars Manning was blue-eyed and blond, like the sheriff; they might have been brothers but weren’t. Manning wore a dark blue twill army shirt and knee- and seat-patched denims with a .45 fairly high on his hip. Manning was responsible for at least four killings, plus the occasional Mexican.
Both men were veterans of holdups and robberies from Gauge’s pre — law enforcement days.
Britt, who had a languid way about him, seemed to taste his words as he uttered them. “Any shootist who can gun down two men at one time is nobody I care to face down.”
Manning, more excitable, said, “Word around town is both Jackson and Riley already had their damn guns out when he pulled on ’em!”
Gauge stared at them in disgust. “Who the hell said anything about facing him down? Ambush the son of a bitch!”
Britt glanced at Manning, and the two men shrugged at each other, as if such duties were no big deal to either.
“Townspeople are pretty edgy, though,” Britt said. “We had five shootings around here in two days.”
Manning said, “I got a feelin’ some of them townsfolk liked seein’ two of our boys go down hard like that. And wouldn’t mind seein’ more of the same.”
Britt raised four fingers, tucking back his thumb. “Need to tally in Stringer and Bradley, too. Even if that was out on the range.”
Gauge said harshly, “What these lily livers would like to see happen, and what they’re gonna see happen, are two different things entirely.”
Sitting forward tentatively, Manning said, “Maybe we should just wait and see.”
Gauge almost spit the words: “Wait and see what, Lars?”
“Wait and see if the dude does move on. I mean, I don’t mind gettin’ rid of him, but if he’s already leavin’ of his own accord, why waste the ammunition?”
“You really think we can afford to let Old Man Cullen... and that stranger... get away with what they done?”
Rhomer swallowed some whiskey and said, “The mayor and them others on that citizens committee? Rode out of town together, maybe an hour ago. Headin’ out for a meetin’ at the Cullen spread, I’d wager.”
“Meetings,” Gauge said with contempt. “They’ve had plenty of those before. A handful of unarmed storekeepers, beatin’ gums at each other.”
“Yeah,” Rhomer said, “but the way they scrambled to have a powwow, right after somebody made a move against us? That’s somethin’ different. That’s new.”
Gauge sat forward and spoke through his teeth. “Maybe so, but they won’t have the occasion again.” He grinned at Britt. “Jake, you ain’t squeamish about a spot of bushwhackin’, are you?”
Britt shrugged. “I take your pay, don’t I? When?”
“Tonight. After dark, when the only thing awake on Main Street is the Victory. That’s where our dude will likely land. He said something about playin’ cards while he was in town.”
Rhomer jerked a thumb in the Victory’s direction. “I was just over there. The feller was doin’ just that, playin’ poker. Doin’ pretty well takin’ what little was left of cowpoke pay.”
The sheriff frowned in thought. “Was Lola around?”
The deputy nodded. “Talked to her a bit. Says she spent some time with the stranger in friendly conversation, but ain’t got a name out of him yet.”
Gauge thought, Maybe she didn’t get friendly enough.
Then he said to Rhomer, “You stop by the hotel like I told you?”
The deputy nodded. “Our man ain’t checked in yet. With the cowhands sobered up by now, some rooms’ll free up, and he’ll most likely check in tonight.”
“No, he won’t,” Gauge said, and his grin had a sneer mixed in. “He’ll be checkin’ out before he ever checks in.”
The sheriff, ever a gracious host, took the whiskey bottle and freshened the glasses of the two men he was designating for bushwhacking duty.
“Lars,” he said, “head over to the Victory and keep an eye on the stranger. When he makes a move to leave, slip out the side door and meet up with wherever Britt is waiting. You know the rest.”
“Have the horses ready,” Manning said, nodding, “and back Britt up. You got it, boss.” His grin was chaw-stained. “This dude may be fast, but he ain’t faster than two guns in back of him.”
Gauge frowned and shook his head. “No, can’t have that. You boys position yourselves in the alley on the way from the Victory to the hotel. On one side of the street, one on the other. When you see him comin’, when he’s in range, Jake, you step out shootin’. Lars, if by some miracle the dude gets his gun out, you come at him from the other side. Just watch out for a cross fire. Can’t have my men killin’ each other. Bad policy.”
That made Britt smile, but Manning, frowning, asked, “And if somebody sees?”
Gauge jerked a thumb to his chest. “If there are any complaints, that’s for the town sheriff to handle. You’re both deputies and your orders are to stop trouble before it starts, right?”
The two men nodded.
Gauge said, “This dude’s a known killer who was gettin’ ready to pull down on you. Do I need be any plainer than that?”
“Plain enough,” Britt said, then shrugged and got to his feet. “Not like we ain’t done it before.”
Manning was on his feet, too, but he seemed a trifle jumpy. “You think this feller really is Banion, Harry?”