The Law of a Fast Gun (7 page)

“Yes, I’m sure,” Jessup said.

Deekus and Arnie came into the saloon just as Hawke was walking away.

“Hey, that there’s the piano player, ain’t it?” Arnie asked as the two of them sat down at the table.

“No. He’s the pianist,” Jessup answered.

“You mean that ain’t the one who kilt Shorty?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” Jessup said without explaining his pianist remark. “What took you two so long? Did you have some trouble at the depot?”

“No, they’re goin’ to put Shorty on tonight’s train,” Deekus said. “Major, you remember we was wonderin’ why Tex, Cracker, and Brandt didn’t come back last night? Well, we don’t need to wonder about it’nymore. They got ’em all in jail, right here in Braggadocio.”

“Why are they in jail?”

“Beats me,” Deekus said. “I think they broke a window or something.”

“Are you telling me they put them in jail for breaking a window?”

“That’s what it sounds like,” Deekus said. “Ain’t that the way you heard it?” he asked Arnie.

“Yep. They broke out the window over at the newspaper office, and the sheriff—”

“He’s not a sheriff, he’s a town marshal,” Jessup said.

“Yeah, well, the marshal, he put all three of ’em in jail.”

Jessup stood up, and when his two riders started to stand as well, he held up his hand. “No, I’m going to see about Tex and the others. You two stay here and finish the bottle.”

“All right,” Deekus said enthusiastically.

“And don’t get into any trouble. I’ve got one dead and three in jail now. I can’t afford to lose any more men.”

Leaving the saloon, Jessup walked down the street to the jail. He stopped just outside the marshal’s office and looked in the window. Instead of the marshal, he saw a deputy leaning back in a chair, his feet propped up on the desk.

When Jessup went inside the little building, the deputy took his feet down and sat up quickly.

“Major Jessup,” the deputy said, flustered that he had been caught napping.

“You know who I am?” Jessup asked.

“Yes, sir, just about ever’one in town knows who you are.”

“Except the piano player. He didn’t know who I was.”

“You’re talking about Mr. Hawke? Well, he’s new to town. Mr. Hawke has only been here a couple of months, so he’s never been around durin’ cattle-shipping time.”

Tex and Brandt were sleeping off their drunk on cots in the cell. Only Cracker was awake, and seeing Jessup, he called out happily.

“Major! I knew you wouldn’t let us rot in here. Tex, Brandt, wake up! It’s the major come to get us.”

“I’ll settle with you men later,” Jessup said, his voice showing his displeasure with them. He turned to the deputy. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Truman Foster. I’m a deputy here.”

“Well, Foster, where’s Trueblood?”

“Trueblood ain’t here,” Foster answered.

“I can see that. Where is he?”

“He took the train down to Plumb Creek this morning,” the deputy said. “He’ll be back in tomorrow mornin’. Is there somethin’ I can do for you, Major?”

“Yes,” Jessup answered. “You can tell me what the fine is for my men, so I can pay it and get them out of here.”

“See that, fellas!” Cracker said. “I told you the major wouldn’t let us down.”

Again Jessup frowned at the three cowboys, but this time he said nothing.

Deputy Foster shook his head. “No, I’m sorry but I can’t do that,” he said.

“You can’t do what?”

“I can’t let you pay their fine and get them out.”

“I know there are damages. A broken window, I think? I’ll pay that as well.”

Again Foster shook his head. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t? It’s not like they killed someone. All they did was get drunk and break out a window. Why the hell can’t I just pay their fine and damages?”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t know what the fine is, or how
much the window is going to cost,” Foster said. “Marshal Trueblood said they was too drunk to go before the judge yesterday. They’re going tomorrow.”

“You mean it’s going to be three days before they even get charged?”

“Yes, sir, it looks like it,” Foster said.

“Then how about releasing them to me until tomorrow?” Jessup said. “I’ll have them back in time for their trial, then I’ll pay whatever cost and fines there are.”

“I can’t do that,” Foster said. “Maybe Marshal Trueblood could do that if he was here. But I can’t. I don’t have the authority to do that.”

“Are you going to take that from him, Major?” Cracker called out from his cell. “Make him let us out.”

“Shut up, Cracker,” Jessup replied. “You three have caused enough trouble already.”

“I’m sorry, Major, but there’s nothing I can do,” Foster said.

“Yes,” Jessup said. “Well, I thank you for your time.”

BY EIGHT O’CLOCK THAT EVENING THE HOG LOT
was reasonably full. There were several cowboys in the saloon, and for the most part they were fairly well behaved. Some were a bit more effusive than others, but there were no fights or even loud arguments.

Hawke kept lively music going throughout the night, and from time to time one of the patrons would come over to put money in a glass bowl that sat on the piano.

The four bar girls moved about the room attending to their business, but it was obvious they were all thinking about Cindy. The cowboys were so absorbed with having fun that none of them noticed anything in the girls’ demeanor. But Hawke could tell that the girls’ smiles were a bit more forced and their expressions more detached.

Millie came over to stand beside Hawke. She leaned against the piano for a moment, and, extending her lower lip, directed a stream of air to blow an errant tendril of hair away
from her forehead. She was sweating from the heat of the night and from the exertion of always having to be on her feet and constantly on the move, going from table to table.

“If you don’t mind, I’m just going to take a break for a moment,” she said.

“I don’t mind at all,” Hawke replied, looking up. “I’m glad for the company.”

Millie picked up a fan lying on top of the piano and waved it in front of her face a few times.

“You ladies are working particularly hard tonight,” Hawke said as he continued to play.

“So are you,” Millie said. She turned the fan and started fanning Hawke. The breeze she generated felt good to him.

“Thanks,” he said. “I feel honored,” he added. “I’ll bet you aren’t fanning any of the cowboys.”

“No,” Millie replied. “But I know I’ve told every cowboy in here, at least a dozen times, how thrilling it must be to bring up a herd of cows.” Millie mimicked herself. “Oh, my, just feel those muscles. You are so strong. Can I bring you another drink from the bar?” She laughed.

“It appears to be working,” Hawke said. “Mr. Harder is doing quite a brisk business tonight.”

From somewhere in the saloon a cowboy’s loud, raucous laugh was followed by the high-pitched squeal, and then the laughter of one of the other bar girls.

“Listen to Trudy,” Millie said. “She is so good at this. I’ll bet she’s sold more drinks than anyone except Cindy, who—” Millie stopped in mid-sentence. She was quiet for a moment, and as the tears began to flow, Hawke finished the song and handed her his handkerchief.

“Thanks,” she said, dabbing at her eyes.

“I’m always willing to come to the rescue of a damsel in distress,” Hawke said.

Millie returned his handkerchief. “Oh, all the girls wanted to thank you for playing at Cindy’s funeral yesterday,” she said. “It was beautiful.”

“I was honored to be asked,” Hawke said.

“She liked you, you know.”

“She was a sweet girl.”

“No, I mean, she really liked you.”

Hawke looked up at her as he began to play his next song, but he didn’t say anything.

Millie gave a little self-conscious laugh. “I know, girls like us have no right to like anyone, uh, in that way,” she said. “But we all have our dreams, and sometimes those dreams, impossible as they may seem, are all that keep us going.”

“Everyone has a right to their dreams,” Hawke replied.

“Even if there is no chance that those dreams will ever come true?”

“Who is to say what would or would not have happened?” Hawke replied. “As I said, Cindy was a very sweet girl.”

“Then you did like her, didn’t you?” Millie asked, and the expression in her voice showed that she very much wanted it to be true.

“Yes,” Hawke said, nodding. “I liked her very much.”

“I knew it,” Millie said enthusiastically. “I just knew it. Oh, the tragedy of it all.”

“We will all miss her,” Hawke said.

“Hawke, would you play her song? I mean, just for her? Her favorite song was—”

“‘Lorena,’” Hawke said, giving the title before Millie could.

“Yes, ‘Lorena.’ Would you play it?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Hawke answered.

“As soon as you are finished with this one, I’m going to make everyone be quiet for her song,” Millie said.

“I’m finished now,” Hawke said, playing the closing bars.

Millie turned toward the crowded saloon room. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she called, but nobody paid any attention to her.

“Let me help,” Hawke said. He played a very loud riff. As a result, all conversation halted and everyone turned toward
the piano to see what was going on. “All right,” Hawke said. “You’ve got their attention.”

“Ladies and gentlemen—” Millie started again.

“Ha! What do you mean, ladies? There ain’t no ladies in here!” one of the cowboys shouted. “Ain’t nothin’ in here but whores.”

“There ain’t no call for you to be talkin’ like that, Deekus,” one of the other cowboys said. “Let the lady speak.”

“All right, all right, speak,” Deekus said. He stood up and bowed toward Millie, and a few laughed.

Millie continued. “As you all know, one of the girls who worked here was killed recently. We had her funeral yesterday. But now, to honor her, I’ve asked Mr. Hawke to play her favorite song. And I’d like to ask all of you to please be quiet while it’s playing.”

“Wait a minute,” Deekus called out. “Before you play that whore’s song, I want you to play ‘Buffalo Gals.’”

“Hold on, mister,” Bob Gary called from behind the bar. “Miss Millie was first. Besides, what’s so great about ‘Buffalo Gals’?”

“What’s so great about it?” Deekus replied. “I’ll tell you what’s so great about it. That was the favorite song of our pard.” Deekus walked over to the piano. “I’m talking about Shorty McDougal. You all know who he was. He was the fella this here piano player kilt.” Deekus pointed at Hawke.

“As you say, I am the one who killed him,” Hawke replied calmly. “It was unfortunate, and I wish it hadn’t happened, but it did. And, that being the case, I do not think it would be appropriate for me to play a song in his honor. So, Mister…” Hawke paused for Deekus to provide him with a name.

“Deekus,” Deekus said. “No Mister, just Deekus.”

“All right, Deekus, if you will just take your seat now, I’ll play ‘Lorena.’”

Deekus pointed to Millie. “Mister, did that whore pay you to play this here song you’re a’fixin’ to play?”

“No.”

Deekus stuck his hand in his pocket, pulled out a dollar, and dropped it into the bowl.

“Well, this here’s a whole dollar. And I’ll thank you to play ‘Buffalo Gals’ before you play that whore’s song.”

Hawke stood up, took the dollar from the bowl, and gave it back to Deekus.

“Keep your dollar. I’m not playing the song,” he said.

“Mister, you need to learn your place. I told you to—” Deekus said angrily, going for his gun as he spoke.

What happened next happened so fast that few in the saloon could even follow it. As the gun was clearing the holster, Hawke grabbed Deekus’s hand and jerked it up. Deekus hit himself in the chin, while at the same time losing his pistol. As he stepped back with his eyes open in shock and anger, he realized that Hawke was now holding the pistol, and pointing it at him.

“I would appreciate it if you would keep quiet while I play the song the lady requested,” Hawke said. He removed the cylinder from Deekus’s gun, then walked over to the bar and dropped it into a half-full spittoon.

“Why, you son of a bitch!” Deekus shouted. Picking up a chair, he raised it over his head and started toward Hawke, but stopped when he saw Hawke’s own gun suddenly appear in his hand.

“There are ladies in this room,” Hawke said. “I suggest you apologize for your language.”

“What?”

“I said apologize for your language.”

“The hell you say,” Deekus replied. “They’re all whores. You think they ain’t never heard language like that before?”

“I said, apologize to the ladies,” Hawke said again.

Deekus stared at the pistol. “I…I apologize,” he said.

“To the ladies,” Hawke said, coaching him.

“To the ladies,” Deekus repeated.

“For my language.”

“For my language.”

“Good. Now, I want you to stand over there where I can keep an eye on you while I’m playing,” Hawke said.

Deekus started to lower the chair, but Hawke raised his pistol.

“No,” he said. “Keep the chair up over your head.”

“The hell you say. I’m not going to keep this chair up here.”

Hawke pulled the hammer back on the pistol, and in the room, which had become very quiet for the unfolding drama, the double click sounded loud and ominous.

“I want you to stand over there where I can keep an eye on you,” Hawke repeated, slowly and deliberately. “And I want you to hold the chair over your head until I say otherwise.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to do that,” Deekus said blusteringly.

“And you are dead if you don’t,” Hawke replied, his voice deadly calm.

“Hah! Don’t listen to any damn piano player, Deekus,” Arnie said. “There’s no way he would shoot you just for lowering that chair. That would be cold-blooded murder.”

“What do you say, Deekus?” Hawke asked. “Are you going to take a chance that your friend is right? Or are you going to listen to me when I tell you that I will kill you if you lower that chair so much as one inch.”

By now a patina of sweat had broken out all over Deekus. His eyes were open wide in fright, his pupils dilated, and he licked his lips nervously.

“You ain’t afraid of a piano player, are you, Deekus?” Arnie asked. “There’s no way he is going to—”

“Shut the hell up, Arnie! I’m lookin’ into his eyes and you ain’t!” Deekus said. “And I know that the son of a bitch means it when he says he’ll kill me.”

“Well, Deekus,” Hawke said. “You are a little smarter than you look.”

Hawke sat down at the piano then and looked over at Millie. She had been joined by the other three girls, and they
were looking at him with as much shock and surprise as everyone else in the saloon. No one had ever seen him like this before. Yes, he had killed Shorty, but everyone was sure that was a fluke. After all, he was only a piano player.

Hawke began playing, and never had that scarred and stained piano produced such beautiful music. As the melancholy music of “Lorena” poured out from the piano, the four bar girls wept openly, and there were even some wet eyes here and there among the men who were regular customers and knew Cindy.

When Hawke finished the song, he looked over at Deekus, who by now was showing the strain of having held the chair over his head for so long.

“You can put the chair down,” Hawke said, and with a loud and groaning sigh, Deekus put the chair on the floor, then almost collapsed into it.

“My arms feel like they’re about to fall off,” Deekus complained.

“Yes, well, think about that the next time you plan to hit somebody with a chair,” Hawke said.

Deekus returned to his table, while Hawke continued to play music.

“Ha,” Arnie said. “You sure looked dumb, standin’ up there, holdin’ that chair over your head like that.”

“Shut up,” Deekus replied. “You!” he shouted to Trudy. “Bring me a drink.”

Trudy looked at him a moment, then went over to the bar and got a whiskey, which she brought back to Deekus. Without so much as one word, she put the drink on the table in front of him.

“What? That’s it?” Deekus asked. “You ain’t goin’ to tell me how good lookin’ I am or anything?”

“You asked for a drink, here it is,” Trudy said coldly.

Deekus laughed. “And here, the way you was talkin’ to me earlier tonight, I thought you was wantin’ to go get married,” he teased.

The others at the table laughed with him as Trudy turned and walked away.

Back at the cattle encampment, Jessup sat on a log near the chuck wagon, drinking a cup of coffee. He had been thinking about the discussion he’d had with the cattle broker.

At first he was concerned that perhaps Braggadocio would close their cattle loading facilities. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that they probably would not get it closed until all his cattle had been shipped. The only ones who would be hurt by the closing would be the Rocking T and the Slash Diamond outfits, who had not yet begun to ship their cows, and would not be able to ship any until after he was through.

If that happened, he would wind up getting top dollar for his cows, making this a very profitable year. And all he’d have to do to bring that about would be to convince the town that they should close the loading pens.

He’d have to do that in a way that would not expose his real motive. But he believed he had an idea that just might accomplish that very thing.

It was nearly ten o’clock, and some of the cowboys who had been in town were back.

“Carter,” Jessup called. “Did you just get back from town?”

“Yes, sir,” Carter replied.

“Any trouble in town tonight?”

“No, sir, not really,” Carter said. “Except…well, that wasn’t really no trouble. Not for anyone but Deekus at any rate.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Deekus got to raggin’ the piano player in the Hog Lot. You know, the one that kilt Shorty?”

“Yes, I know. Go on, what happened?”

“Well, Deekus got to raggin’ him, and the next thing you know, well, Deekus was going for his gun.”

“Did he shoot the piano player?”

“Lord, no. It wasn’t even close,” Carter said. “It’s the damnedest thing I ever seen, Major, but one second Deekus is goin’ for his gun, and the next second, well, I don’t know how the hell he done it, but Deekus’s gun was in the piano player’s hand.”

“So the piano player shot Deekus?”

“No, sir.” Carter went on to describe the events that left Deekus holding the chair over his head. “This here ain’t no ordinary piano player, I can tell you that.”

“I agree,” Jessup said. “Maybe you boys will learn better than to keep messing with him. Now, I want you to do something for me.”

“Yes, sir, whatever you say.”

“I want you to ride back into town. Go into the Hog Lot, Foley’s, Pearlie’s whorehouse, wherever you have to go, but I want you to get our men out of there.”