Faster than a cat the man was on top of Hausenfield, straddling him with his gun holstered now and swinging at his face with the flat of the skillet.
“He never let go of that pan,” Ezra whispered.
Hausenfield had begun to scream when the bullets hit him but the man swung at his face until he could only moan. After a while the man threw the skillet away and looked up: the bay horse had cantered over to his stablemates in front of the black wagon and that must have given the man his idea. Laughing, he dragged Hausenfield by the collar over to the wagon and threw him in. This happened right in front of Ezra’s window so we had to step back in the shadows. The man closed the door, found Hausenfield’s pickaxe, still caked with the dirt of Fee’s grave, and used it to bolt the door tight. Inside the hearse, Hausenfield was screaming again, pounding on the floorboard. The man jumped up on the driver’s box, brought the grey and the mule around, and began to rein-whip them down the street. Hooting loud, he rode them close to the porch on the other side, and at the last porch beam at the end of the street, he hooked his arm around and stood easily on the rail while the wagon kept on going into the flats. To make sure that the team kept its pace he fired a few shots after it and even the mule ran with his ears back.
Walking to the bay in front of Ezra’s store, the man was laughing to himself and smacking his hands together. Every few steps he would turn around to look at the wagon rumbling away south and each time he looked he laughed harder. He took the bay over to the Silver Sun and saddled it with the gear from his dead roan. Then he tied his new horse to the rail, mopped his forehead with a red handkerchief and stepped up to the saloon doors, which he found locked. He kicked them open and from where I was I heard Avery’s voice say heartily: “Come in, come in!”
After the man had been a while in the Silver Sun, everyone began to come out of doors, standing in ones and twos on the porch or in the street, watching that wagon going away smaller and smaller ahead of its dust cone. Jack Millay saw me and limped over swinging his one arm: “Did you ever see such work, Blue?” Jack’s face was pinked with excitement, he took his joys how he could. In the alleys some of the people were bringing their buckboards to their side doors and at the rock end of the street John Bear had his travois lying in front of his shack.
I watched the Indian now. When Hausenfield had taken his pot shots Bear had jumped for cover fast enough although his back was turned to the noise. If he was deaf he had another sense to make up for it, if he was dumb he wasn’t too dumb. He came out of his shack and lashed his things to the travois. Then he picked up the poles and pulled. When he reached his skillet lying in the middle of the street he walked right over it and he went right down the street and past the last house. Later I saw him standing half a mile in the flats. He laid his travois down and stood still facing the town.
Behind him and east, tiny Jimmy Fee who had never come back in was sitting by his father’s grave. Clouds were over half the sky now, the sun was covered and a little breeze was blowing.
I went to my office and found Molly Riordan looking in my desk.
“Haven’t you any whiskey, Blue?”
“Whiskey’s across the street,” I said and just then we heard Avery yelling with a laugh in his voice: “Molly! Molly-y!”
Molly ducked behind the desk, and through a hole in my oilpaper window I saw Avery holding his swinging doors open, bellowing with good nature: “Molly where are you, gentleman here wants to see you!” Even across the street I could hear the bottle crashing somewhere behind him. He laughed as if he was enjoying it, called Molly again and went back in.
“Christ!” said Molly. “Isn’t anybody going to do anything?”
“Why don’t you go on over?”
“What?” She stood up then, watching me fill the cylinders of my gun.
I said: “That knife Avery gave you. Do as he said, hold it tight against your wrist and if your moment comes slip it out and use it. But I don’t think you’ll have to.”
“Oh sure, sure! Christ that Bad Man’s the only man in town! I can’t believe it, you’re no better than that son of a bitch Avery, using a lady, for Godsake, marching brave behind a lady’s skirts. You’re some comfort Mayor, go to hell!”
I tucked the gun in my belt and opened the door. People were waiting in the street.
“Oh God,” Molly said, “so this is what it’s come to, how did I ever end up in this forsaken town, oh Christ this is the end. I’ll tell you something you didn’t know, Blue, I left New York ten years ago because I couldn’t bear bein’ a maid, I was too proud to say ‘Yes Mum.’ Doesn’t that tickle you?”
“We do what we can, Molly.”
Her face was twisted up and tears were streaming down her cheeks as she walked by me saying: “I hope he gets you Mayor, I swear I do, you and the rest of the crawling bastards in this miserable town.”
I followed behind her as we walked across — everyone stepping out of our way — and went up on the steps to the Silver Sun. She turned to look at me once more.
“You’re alright, Molly,” I said.
But when she walked up to the doors the stiletto slipped out of her sleeve and clattered on the porch. I kicked it aside before the Bad Man might see it and I pushed Molly through the doors and stepped in behind. Then I saw what made her drop the knife, Florence bent over the upstairs railing, bare, with her arms dangling and her red hair falling down between them.
Now Avery must have seen the woman dead that way when he came back to close his doors and pull his shades down. But he wasn’t too concerned when we came in, he greeted us laughing and jovial.
“Here’s Molly, hello Blue! Come on, come in, drinks on the gentleman!”
Behind the bar the Bad Man from Bodie was grinning and setting up two more glasses. Avery went to the doors and opened them, calling into the street: “Everybody! Drinks for the whole town on the gentleman here!” The Bad Man laughed but outside everyone began to run, I could see under the doors the feet running in the dirt. The only one Avery got was Jack Millay, who had followed us onto the porch and was peeking over the doors when Avery shouted out his invitation. Avery pulled Jack in and I know that in a few minutes the town was empty but for those of us in the saloon.
It was a celebration. Avery, Jack Millay and I stood at the bar while the man poured for us. Molly sat at one of the tables staring up at Flo with her knuckles in her mouth. The man came around the bar and served her a drink from a tray, making a mock bow like a fancy Eastern waiter. She sat looking away from him and didn’t even stir when he took the bottom of her skirt between two fingers and threw it back over her knees. Avery laughed at that and Jack laughed too and the man backed away from Molly, looking at her and chuckling. He went behind the bar again and lifted his glass to her.
The Bad Man drank Avery’s liquor like water and every time he poured for himself, he poured for us too. The other two kept up with him but I emptied my glass by throwing the stuff over my shoulder. The man finally saw me do that and then he broke the neck off a fresh bottle and filled my glass slowly and then raised his and looked me in the eyes. He was a younger man than I expected but his skin was shot red under the stubble, there was a blaze on one cheek and he had the eyes of a crazy horse. Right then my hand began to move and I meant for it to go for my gun. But it went instead for the glass on the bar; I felt at that moment that I wanted to please him, I was almost glad to drink.
After that the man began to break open a bottle for each round. One time, as Avery had his drink up to his mouth, the man stuck his arm out and whacked Avery’s glass with the heel of his hand. Avery stumbled back, spitting out teeth and blood and trying to laugh at the same time. A bit later, the man fixed his attention on Jack Millay’s stump and with an eyewide amazement he swung at it with a full bottle of whiskey. Jack went grey and sunk to the floor right where he was standing.