The Last Renegade (45 page)

Clay brushed past his brother and waved Dick Faber and his fellow poker players out of their chairs. The men got up, although not as quickly as Clay wanted. He scowled at them.

Eli lifted his dark brows. “Apparently Clay’s found a table for him and me.” He gestured to his hands. “You go on over there. You gentlemen make these men feel welcome. Lorrainey, I think you might need to get a few more chairs. You’ve got some of your town folk standing around. That’s no way to treat your regulars like Mr. Faber here.” He nodded and smiled crookedly at Dick Faber.

Raine set the bottles on the bar and looked over at Walt. He did not require a word from her but immediately began walking in the direction of the dining room.

“You’ve been drinking, Eli,” said Raine. She began setting up drinks on a tray for the hands and motioned to Cecilia to come forward to get them. “I don’t suppose this is your first stop of the evening.”

“You’d be wrong on the second count. Right on the first.”

Clay gestured to Eli to come over to the table and sit.

“In a moment, little brother.” Eli slapped his hat back on his head. He looked around. “No reason for it to be so quiet in here. I ain’t exactly a stranger to you. Go on about your business.” His eyes fell on Sue at the piano. “I swear I heard music when I was outside. Go on. Play something. I like that ‘Old Virginny’ song. Play that one.”

Sue turned back to the piano, and after an encouraging look from Charlie, she placed her trembling fingers on the keys. She started softly and increased the volume gradually.

“That’s good,” said Eli. “Nothin’ wrong in the world that music don’t soothe.”

“Over here, Eli,” said Clay. He pushed out a chair for his brother. “Put yourself in it.”

“Don’t seem right. These other men are still standing. Oh, here’s Walt with some chairs. You fellas just put them wherever you like.” Eli braced his arms on the back of the chair Clay gave him. “Lorrainey, where’s your husband tonight? I don’t see—”

Kellen’s chair scraped the floor as he turned it around without rising from the seat. He lifted a hand to acknowledge Eli.

“There you are. I’ll be damned. You’re playin’ cards. What’s your game?”

“Red Dog.”

Eli laughed. “On account of you bein’ lousy at poker.”

“On account of that,” Kellen said.

“Why don’t you join Clay and me?”

Clay growled softly. “Let him be.”

Eli ignored him and waved Kellen over. “The sooner you leave that table, the sooner those men can get to playin’ a real game of cards.”

Kellen chuckled. “You’re right.” Excusing himself, he stood, picked up his drink, and offered his chair to one of the men Clay had dismissed from the other table. He crossed the saloon and took up a chair opposite Clay, shrugging apologetically as he sat.

Eli spun his chair around and straddled it. He elbowed Clay to move a few inches sideways so he wasn’t crowded. Once Clay was out of his way, he ignored his brother and spoke to Kellen. “Do you know if there are any rooms to let tonight? Could be we don’t get back so easy on account of the snow.”

“We’re not staying here,” said Clay. He jerked his chin at the bar, where Raine was standing. “She wouldn’t give us a room if all of them were empty, and I wouldn’t take one from her.”

“Then you can stay at Sedgwick’s boardinghouse. If I have to stay in town, it’s going to be here.” He looked at Kellen. “Seems like the photographer’s room can’t be gone already. It’s only been a day.”

“It’s still vacant,” said Kellen. “But I have to agree with your brother. Raine won’t give you a room.”

“Now that’s downright inhopspitable…inhostipable…unfriendly.”

“She has her reasons.”

Renee carried drinks to the table. She placed one glass of whiskey in front of Clay, and a glass and a bottle in front of Eli. “Mrs. Coltrane says to mind that you go easy, Mr. Burdick.”

Eli’s pale blue eyes narrowed as he looked Renee over. “She sent
you
with that message. You’re just a bit of a thing. Tell her I said if she has another message for me, I would take it more kindly if she delivered it herself. Go on.” He waved her away, almost knocking over his bottle in the process. Kellen reached across the table and grabbed it before it fell. Eli thanked him and elbowed his brother for having a laugh at his expense.

“Do you know Rabbit and Finn?” asked Kellen.

Eli poured himself a drink. “Jeff Collins’s grandsons? Sure, we do. Why?”

“Oddly enough, you and Clay remind me of them.” Eli grinned, but Clay gave him a sour look. Kellen sipped his drink. There was only enough whiskey in his glass to give it color. The rest was water. It was hard not to pull a face. “I have to admit I’m surprised to see you tonight. I thought the snow would keep you away.”

“It’s not so bad,” said Eli.

Clay shrugged. “Uriah always sends some of the hands away at the first snow. Money’s tight. There isn’t enough work for everyone and too many mouths to feed. We have to look to the cattle first.”

“Those are the men he dismissed?”

Eli nodded. “Six others went straight to the livery. Ransom will give them a fair price for their horses, then they’ll go south to New Mexico or Arizona and pick up work. Maybe they’ll come back, and maybe they won’t. Doesn’t matter. There’s always men looking for work come spring.”

“Ten men. That’s about half of your hands.”

“That’s right,” said Clay.

“They required an escort?” asked Kellen.

Clay knocked back half of his whiskey. “Uriah likes to make sure they leave the spread, and he’s not in favor of them takin’ up with any of the other ranchers.”

“Surely that’s for them to decide.”

Eli laughed. “Funny, but Uriah thinks it’s for
him
to decide.”

“They know what’s expected,” Clay said. “They sign an agreement straight off.”

“What about those four?” Kellen put a hand over his glass when Eli offered to top it off. “Why didn’t they go with the others?”

Eli glanced over at them. He raised his glass in their direction but did not have the salute returned. “They intend to ride out, not take the train. Probably should have left a few weeks ago, but Uriah’s been hemmin’ and hawin’ about how many he could keep. I suppose they thought they were safe from eviction. They’ve been around longer than some of the others.”

“They seem like they might be a little out of sorts with you, Eli.”

Clay answered for his brother. “Eli might have promised a couple of them that they’d be stayin’ on.” His eyes found Renee, and he waved her over. Before she arrived, he said to Eli, “You shouldn’t have done that. I don’t care that you got Uriah spittin’ and pissin’ at you, but I couldn’t get clear of it. He expects me to keep you from makin’ a fool of yourself. Ain’t no one I know who can do that.”

For the first time since the brothers entered the saloon, Kellen recognized that Eli was not the only one who had been drinking. While Eli Burdick became expansive, almost warm in his expression, Clay just became meaner.

Kellen took another sip of his whiskey. “So you’re not here to thank Mr. Jones.”

“Thank him?” asked Clay. “For what?”

“It’s all over town. He shot Mr. Petit to keep the man from killing your brother.” He watched the brothers exchange glances but no words. “I know you know something about what happened yesterday. Eli asked about Petit’s room earlier. You expected it to be vacant.” Now he saw Clay cast a disagreeable, sideways look at Eli.

“Eli and I were together all day,” said Clay. “Neither of us saw Mr. Petit.”

“I’m talking about your
other
brother. Isaac.”

“Then you don’t know what you’re talking about. Apparently neither does Jones, if he mentioned Isaac’s name. My baby brother hasn’t been around for years, thanks to your wife.”

Eli blew out a long, weary breath. “Don’t pitch your venom at Lorrainey, Clay. She’s this man’s wife and my old sweetheart.”

“She’s one of those things,” Clay said. He held out his glass while Renee poured whiskey into it. “Be careful. You’re spilling as much outside of the glass as in it.” Neither Renee nor anyone at the table pointed out that his hand was shaking. Renee finished pouring, tipped the bottle back, and fled. Clay’s eyes followed her. “She’s jumpy for a whore. Seems like she should be broken in by now.”

Kellen had given a great deal of thought to how the evening should unfold, and it seemed to him that there was no better opening than the one Clay had just presented him.

“You mean like Ellen,” he said.

Clay’s head snapped around. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry. Did I have it wrong? I meant Emily. I thought you’d want to break Renee in the same as you did Emily. Break. Broken. They’re both apt.”

Clay pushed his chair back so hard that it tipped over. In a single motion, he was on his feet and drawing his gun from its holster.

The advantage was still Kellen’s. He did not trouble himself to get to his feet. He stalled Clay’s motion by pointing his long-barreled Colt just below the man’s heart. “Put it down, Clay. Easy. On the table. Eli, don’t go for your gun. Keep your hands where I can see them. The men right behind you want to see them, too. They’ll shoot you in the back and not lose any sleep over it if that’s what they have to do. Keep your eyes this way. You don’t need to see who they are. I can see them just fine. Trust me. Clay, I’m giving you to three to put the gun down. Sometimes I don’t count that high. Take your chances. One.”

Clay set his gun on the table.

“Push it over here. Real gentle. Walt? You want to take this away for me?”

“Yes, sir.” With no hesitation, Walt moved quickly around the bar and over to the table. He picked up Lightning, the .38 caliber double-action revolver that Clay prized almost as much as his horse. “He’ll have a derringer in his boot, Mr. Coltrane.”

“Well, I guess we should have that, too. Stay where you are, Clay. Let Walt dig out that derringer. I’ll shoot you if you move. Don’t test me.”

Clay’s posture half in and out of the chair was awkward, but he maintained it while Walt fiddled inside his boot until he got his fingers around the derringer and pulled it out.

“Renee, come over here and take Mr. Burdick’s derringer from Walt. Have you ever held a pistol like that before?”

“No, Mr. Coltrane. I do all right with my pa’s Henry rifle, though.”

“Good girl. Step back. Walt, you need to take Eli’s gun. Eli, it would be a shame if Walt has to shoot you with your brother’s Colt, but I believe he will do it. If he won’t, I will.”

“What the hell, Coltrane?” Eli said. “I mean, what the
hell
?”

Walt carefully removed the gun from Eli’s holster and got out of elbow range.

Kellen nodded toward the bar. “Take them over there, Walt. Wait. Is Eli carrying anything else?”

“Doesn’t usually.”

“Perhaps we should be sure. Looks like we need more hands here. Raine? How about taking these guns from Walt while he makes sure Eli doesn’t have any surprises for us.”

Raine came over and took the revolvers. When Walt was finished with Eli, she only gave one of them back.

Kellen kept his eyes on Clay but spoke to Raine. “Why don’t you pour Eli another drink? I didn’t think it was possible, but he looks as if he needs one.”

Keeping the Colt out of Eli’s reach, Raine poured from the bottle in front of him and then moved out of the way.

“Thank you,” said Kellen. “Sit down, Clay. Someone will put your chair under you.”

Behind him, Clay heard his chair being picked up and
pushed forward. When he felt the edge of the seat at the back of his knees, he sat down.

Kellen nodded, satisfied. “All right. Is there anyone who wants to leave? Besides the Burdicks, I mean? This is a good time to speak up.” Kellen stood. He kept his gun out but lowered it to his side. He regarded the four ranch hands who accompanied Eli and Clay into the Pennyroyal. “You’re free to go if you like. You’ll have to leave your guns.”

“I’m kinda curious,” one of them said. “I’d like to stay.”

“Fine, but you still have to hand over your guns.”

“We don’t work for the Burdicks anymore,” another one said. “Didn’t they tell you?”

“They told me. Humor me. Turn over your guns. Put them on the floor and kick them this way. Cecilia will collect them.” Kellen watched the four men look to one another as though agreement rested with all or none of them. When they shrugged collectively, he knew he had them. They placed their revolvers on the floor and booted them sideways. Cecelia rushed in and scooped them up. At Raine’s nod, she put them behind the bar.

“Better,” said Kellen. “Charlie? Are you carrying?”

“No, sir.” He opened his jacket carefully to show that it was true.

“Jem? What about you and your brothers?”

Jem shook his head. “One of us would have shot the other by now. We don’t bring guns to the card table.”

Kellen’s narrow smile appeared. “And folks say you three boys don’t have enough sense to pay attention.”

The brothers frowned deeply. Jessop’s face was the first to clear, but Jake was the first to chuckle. A moment later Jem joined him. “Sense. Cents,” Jessop said. “Good one, Mr. Coltrane.”

Mr. Reasoner slowly raised his hand. “A very good one,” he said in dry accents. “This foreigner begs to be excused.”

Mr. Jones put up his hand. “The government also.”

Kellen regarded them and their raised hands a long moment before he shook his head. “No, gentlemen. I like you right there. I’m going to tell everyone a story, and I want you to hear it.”

Kellen backed up to the table behind him and hitched his hip on it. He rested the Peacemaker on his thigh in plain view of Eli and Clay and looked around the room. His gaze stopped on John Paul Jones.

“Mr. Jones. You represent the government’s interests. I believe that makes you the best choice for judging these proceedings.”

Clay started to come out of his seat, and Kellen put him back in it by lifting the Colt just a hair.

“What do you say, Mr. Jones?”

“This isn’t a court. I’m not a judge. You can’t—”

“Mr. Jones accepts.” Kellen’s attention went to Mr. Reasoner. “These men will need some sort of defense. That will be your job.”