Gunman's Song (30 page)

“Aw, that's just how Blue Snake is,” said Denver Jack. “He's what you might call flamboyant. Ain't nothing wrong with him, though. We all got used to it. Bo Kregger seemed to be looking for something to ride Blue Snake about.”

“Blue Snake don't take well to anybody questioning his manliness,” said Jesse Turnbaugh, “not that they should.”

“He likes colorful thumbnails, what the hell?” said Denver Jack Fish with a tight shrug.

“How's the town laid out?” Shaw asked.

“You mean for street fighting?” asked Denver Jack.

“Yeah, for street fighting,” said Shaw.

“About like every other town,” Denver Jack said, “a big ol' street running north and south through its belly, a saloon on the west side, a vacant sheriff's office…. There is one thing different, though—a big gallows out front of the sheriff's office.”

“It used to be a county seat,” said Cray Dawson. “Judge Roscoe Perls had a gallows built there.”

“What's along the east side of the street, opposite the saloon?” Shaw asked.

“Let's see,” said Denver Jack, “there's a barbershop, a vacant apothecary shop, a woman's hat shop. That's as much as I remember.”

“That's enough,” said Shaw.

“What about us, Fast Larry?” Jesse Turnbaugh asked, looking hopeful. “Are you going to kill us?”

“How many men are there in town with Talbert and Blue Snake now?” asked Shaw, his expression revealing nothing.

Taking a second to figure it up, Jesse Turnbaugh said, “There's six men with them now, if you count the Devil and that scarecrow that rode in with him. Me and Denver Jack couldn't stand it any longer…we cut out. So what do you say? Are you going to kill us or what?”

Shaw noted how both men had dropped their hands slightly more each time they asked that question.

“If you were me what would you do?” Shaw asked flatly.

“If I was you,” said Denver Jack Fish, “I believe I'd at least give us both a fighting chance.”

“The way you gave Rosa a fighting chance?” said Cray Dawson, who had been sitting silent until now.

The harsh bite in his words caused both men to turn toward him, a bit surprised. Shaw just watched and listened. When the two men turned back to face Shaw as if for some guidance, he said, “You heard him. Answer his question.”

In the streets of Brakett Flats, Barton Talbert had called his remaining men together in a rally of support. But when the gunfire resounded in the distance north of town, he immediately looked all around and said, “Where the hell are Jesse and Denver Jack?”

“You sent them to bury Stanley and Curley,” said Gladso Furlin.

“I know damn well I sent them to bury Stanley and Curley,” Talbert snapped at him. “But that was a long time ago! Ain't they back yet?”

Bobby Fitt looked all around. “I haven't seen them. Want me to look for them?”

“Go check the barn,” said Bo Kregger. “If their horses aren't there, they've turned tail and run.”

“Denver Jack and Jesse Turnbaugh ain' the kind to turn tail,” said Blue Snake with a bitter twist to his voice.

“It happens to the best of us,” said Bo Kregger. “Take yourself.” He grinned. “Do you ever get the urge to just scream out loud? Go into some crying fit?”

Blue Snake started to take a step toward Bo Kregger, but Talbert stepped in quickly and blocked his
way. “Both of you, try to get along! I've got a feeling Jesse and Denver Jack have met up with Shaw out there!”

“Those shots came from a long ways off,” said Bo Kregger. “Why would they go so far to bury those two?”

“I don't know,” said Talbert, studying the sand flats in the direction the shots had come from.

“I do,” Bo Kregger said with a smug grin, giving Blue Snake a slight wink.

“Both of their horses are gone, boss!” said Bobby Fitt, hurrying back from the livery barn.

“Told you,” Bo Kregger said in almost a whisper.

“Damn it, I'm losing men!” said Talbert. “I can't afford to lose any more!” He turned to Gladso Furlin. “Take that sheriff's badge off your chest, Gladso! How's your brother's foot doing?”

“It's wrapped up and stopped bleeding,” said Gladso, unpinning the badge from his chest and handing it to Talbert. “I'm keeping him drunk till the pain eases down some.”

“No,” said Talbert, “don't keep him drunk! We'll need every gun we've got once Shaw gets here! Get him sobered up. Get some coffee down him!” He looked around nervously. “Let's all get some coffee! Get ourselves ready for a serious gunfight!”

On the boardwalk out front of the saloon, Willie the Devil stood with a handful of money and betting slips. “What about the fiesta? It'd be good for business. There's goats roasting out back right now.”

“Damn the fiesta! And damn your business!” shouted Barton Talbert. “Did you hear those gunshots? Fast Larry Shaw is killing our pards quicker than we can get them buried!”

Bo Kregger chuckled and said, “Why don't you settle down, Talbert? Between you and this man with the shiny thumbnails I don't know why Shaw wants to waste a bullet on either of yas. Looks like he might just scare you to death.”

“That's it! I've taken all I'm going to from this smug bastard!” shouted Blue Snake Terril, his hand going down to his gun butt. “Fill your hand, Bo Kregger!”

But before Blue Snake could even reach his Colt, a shot from Bo Kregger's gun sliced the holster from his hip and sent his gun, holster and all, spinning in the dirt.

Blue Snake stood dumbstruck. The other men on the street stood gripped in a deathlike silence until they saw Bo Kregger tip his gun barrel up slightly and say with a short laugh to Blue Snake, “Oops, looks like you dropped something.”

A sigh of relief rose among the onlookers. Barton Talbert stepped in between Blue Snake and Bo Kregger now that it looked like the danger had passed.

“I can't be humiliated this way,” Blue Snake seethed under his breath to Talbert.

“My God, Snake,” said Talbert, his voice a harsh whisper, “swallow your pride long enough to see what we've got on our side here! A man who can do something like that can shoot the eyes out of Fast Larry's head! I think Bo is just doing this to show everybody here they've got no reason to turn and run! Can't you see that?”

“I'll try to go along with you, Talbert, but the minute this is over…” He left his words hanging, both he and Barton Talbert knowing that there was nothing
he could do to a gunman like Bo Kregger; they'd both just seen that.

“Folks, there you've seen it!” said Willie the Devil, turning the situation to his advantage. With both arms in the air he shook the money and the betting slips. “Anybody who wants to make some last-minute wager after seeing this fine shooting exhibition better do so right away. The fiesta has been cut short! This gunfight could occur sooner than we expected.”

“Do you care if I shoot the Devil dead right here and now?” Bo Kregger asked Barton Talbert. “You don't need men that bad, do you?”

Hearing Kregger, Willie gave a frightened look and slunk back toward the saloon, Elton Minton right behind him.

“To give the Devil his due,” said Talbert, “in a pinch he is the sneakiest son of bitch you ever saw with a shotgun.”

“But we ain't going to
be
in no pinch,” said Bo Kregger. “In spite of all I've shown you, I still don't think you realize just how god-awful fast I am.” He grinned smugly, twirling his Colt back down into his holster. Then, looking at Blue Snake Terril, who stood dejectedly on the same spot, his gun and holster behind him in the dirt, Kregger said without mercy, “You can get any ol' cobbler to fix that real cheap…send me the bill.”

When Talbert and Bo Kregger had walked away, Blue Snake stepped back, snatched up his gun and holster, and walked rigidly away toward the livery barn.

“Bo,” said Talbert, looking back, “I need every
man I've got. I don't think you realize how good a man Blue Snake is at what he does.”

“At what he does?” said Bo Kregger. “If you mean changing brands on cattle or throwing a gun in somebody's face and taking their money, maybe so. But if he was any gunman at all, I'd be lying dead back there right now.”

“All right, maybe he ain't the gunman you are…but who is?” said Talbert, offering a little flattery. “Nobody is!” Talbert said for good measure, throwing up his hands. “I never seen anything like it.”

“That's what I like to hear,” said Kregger, “ a little brownnosing before a big gun battle.” He stopped out front of the saloon and looked west toward the fading afternoon sun. “I'm going to get a couple quick drinks, and a hot meal; then I'm going to clean my gun and get myself a good night's sleep.”

Barton Talbert looked at him with an air of respect. “Now that takes some cool, calm nerve! What do you want me to be doing?”

Seeming to have to give it some thought, Kregger said, “Well, you could go count out the rest of my money and stack it real neat-like.”

“No, I mean as far as how you might want me to set up my men…you know, in case things don't go the way we all know they will?”

“Since we
all know
they will,” said Kregger, “I don't give a damn how you set your men up, so long as they don't all piss themselves and muddy up the street.” He started to walk on into the saloon.

“But don't you want some say-so in how I set them up? Don't you want to know what's going on?”

“Put a couple on the roofs, one in an alley,” said Kregger as if bored with the mundane details of killing
”As far as knowing what's going on, I already know when Shaw will get here, and where he'll be standing. Now if you'll excuse me.”

“Damn it, Bo, wait a minute,” said Talbert. “Let me in on it! Tell me something! You know this is driving me nuts. Not that I'm afraid; just that I can't stand waiting and wondering.”

“All right,” said Kregger, stopping again and taking a deep breath, looking put-upon by Talbert. “Once Fast Larry Shaw sees there's no more runners among your men, he'll come on in. It will be right at the time the sun comes glaring up in the east. He'll come in from that direction.” Kregger pointed to where the main street, which ran north and south, intersected with another wide street to the east. “He'll stop right there, at that corner, where the sun is going to make him hard to see. Anybody riding with him will come straight down along the boardwalks, watching the alleys, the rooflines, and so forth.”

Kregger stopped for a moment in contemplation.

“All right, then what?” Talbert asked anxiously.

“Then what?” Bo Kregger said, teasing him.

“Come on, Bo, what next?” Talbert asked.

Bo chuckled, then said, “All right. Then, if none of your men has made a move on him, or even if they have, for that matter, Shaw is going to call out my name. ‘Bo Kregger,' he'll say, just like that. I've done the same thing many times,” he reflected as he spoke.

“All right, then you'll step out? Let him have the advantage of the sun being at his back?”

“Hell, no! Do I look like a fool to you, Talbert, giving a big gun like Shaw that kind of an edge?”

“No, no, of course not!” Talbert shook his head briskly. “But what will you do to take that edge away from him?”

Bo Kregger smiled again. “I just won't come out from where he'll expect me to. “I'll come out from over there.” He pointed past where he predicted Lawrence would step out and call his name. “I'll come from that little bonnet shop behind him along the same street. It'll keep us both in the same position of sunlight. There went Fast Larry's edge.” He tapped himself on the temple. “See, this ain't all about shooting each other down. There's a lot of thought goes into staying alive in this business.”

“I got to admit,” said Talbert, “you gunslingers know how to read one another like penny dreadfuls. Sounds good as long as he does it the way you say he will.”

“Ha!” said Bo Kregger. “I figured Fast Larry out a long time ago. He's got to do it this way. Don't forget, the fastest gun alive has a reputation he has to keep no matter what.”

“I'm counting on it,” said Talbert, looking relieved now that he'd heard Bo Kregger's keen insight into Fast Larry Shaw.

“
Counting
on it?” Kregger chuckled confidently. “Talbert, you can
bet
on it—in fact, I hope you already have.” He gave a knowing nod toward the saloon, where Willie the Devil was back to work promoting the upcoming gunfight in a huckster's voice.

“It looks like we've got all we're going to get out of Brakett Flats,” said Cray Dawson, stepping down from the rise of rock and back over to where Lawrence
Shaw and Jedson Caldwell had sat down on the dirt beside the horses. In the west the sun had moved down along the horizon and spread boiling red across the low sky. “What's our next move, Shaw?”