Buchanan Says No (17 page)

There were other footsteps on the stairs, urgent-sound
ing and they broke through her concentration.

"Buchanan? Which room you in, Buchanan?" It was
Little Joe's voice, high-pitched, excited, and Carrie went
to her own door, pulled it open, But Buchanan had heard
the summons, too, and he came out into the corridor.
Carrie immediately withdrew her head, for Buchanan was
naked to the waist, clothed in nothing but his underwear.

"What
⁷
s up?" she heard him say, as nonchalant as Lit
tle Joe had been concerned.

"He said you weren't coming back!"

"Who said?"

"Durfee!"

"Well, here
I
am,"

"Big as life," Little Joe said joyously. Then he became
solemn, hesitating,

"Durfee," he said, "is dead. He was taking your place,
Buchanan. We hired him because he said he could han
dle Mike Sandoe."

"Don't feel responsible for that fight," Buchanan told
him, seeing in his mind the massacre at Indian Rocks, un
derstanding the prob
lem Sandoe faced with a lone survivor loose
, an eyewitness. "They had their private rea
so
ns." he said,

“Wh
at about you?"

"Me? What do you mean?"

"I mean are you still willing to work?"

'That's what I came back here for/
⁷
Buchanan said,
lau
ghter lurking close to the surface. "Not that I wouldn't
buy
off if I could just raise the twenty-five
,”

“
Ah, to hell with it!" Little Joe said abruptly. "I got
Du
rfee on my conscience. I sure don't want you. Our deal
is
sc
rapped, Buchanan. Ride out while you're still in one
piece."

Buchanan shook his head. "Go open the Happy
Times," he said quietly. "I
’
ll be along."

Little Joe stared up at him, the chest and shoulders of
him,
the battle-tested, broken-nosed, blue-eyed calmness
o
f him, and he let himself forget the cold destruction
ha
nging at Mike Sandoe's gunbelt

"All right," Little Joe said. "By God, we'll try it again!"

Carrie heard the saloonkeeper leave and bits of the con
vers
ation she had just listened to echoed in her mind. It
wa
s true, then, about the gunfight earlier tonight. The
man named Durfee had been working in the Happy
Times, and had been killed by Frank Power's latest gun
man. And now they were going to give him a second
vi
ctim. . . .

Buchanan's voice startled the girl out of her reverie;
Buchanan's off-key baritone filling the whole boarding-
h
o
use with the verse of some chanty while water splashed
n
o
isily in the tub. Of a sudden the redhead began to
lau
gh. She sat down on the edge of the bed and kept on
la
ughing.
For she had a perfect picture of what it was
like in there, with the likes of Buchanan accommodating
h
imself in a tub that she herself found confining.

The serenade ended, leaving a depressing, melancholic
sile
nce that sobered Carrie and made her realize what a
cull, uninteresting place the Green Lantern had really
been all these months. That was a disquieting discover
y
to make, one that caught her unprepared, for it implied
that there was something missing in her life, that per
haps she wasn't quite so self-sufficient as she liked to
think.

And for some reason she saw Ruby Weston in Buchanan's room again, except that this time the memory
hurt a little, and wouldn't go away when she wanted it
to. How many girls had flocked to answer that ad, any
how? And how did Buchanan come to choose Ruby
Weston?

She found herself out in the corridor, walking toward
the closed door of that suddenly intriguing room. Now she stopped, hesitantly, asked herself if she knew what
she was doing out there, if she knew where she was going. The answer was a shaky no, but then she was moving for
ward again, with a kind of pleasant roaring sound in her
ears and no consciousness at all of the floor passing be
neath her feet,

She halted a second time, directly before the door, and
listened. It was quiet in there, strangely so, and she was
in the act of putting her ear directly against the panel
when the whole door swung open.

It was quite a different Buchanan standing there, a for
midable one, and there was nothing aimless or easy-going
about the bigness of him. For a long moment he stared
down at her, then the bleakness in his eyes melted into
the good-humored twinkle that had marked their encoun
ter in court this morning.

"Didn't mean to jump you
,”
Buchanan said easily.
"That cat-footing sounded like somebody else."

"Mike Sandoe?" she asked, still not recovered.

"Somebody like that. What can I do for you?"

She shook her head from side to side but no word
passed her throat. What could he do for her? she thought
giddily,

"Nothing," Carrie said aloud, and as she spoke her body
began to rock forward and back of its own volition. Bu
ch
anan's hands came up, braced her by the shoulders.
You feel all right?"

She felt wonderful. She said, "Can I deal faro at the
Happy Times?"

He shook his head. "We got one."

'Ruby Weston. What's so special about her?"

At that he shrugged. "She fills the bill," he said.

"How about me?"

"Can't tell," Buchanan said, and a smile began to form.
Can't tell what?"

Buchanan still held her shoulders beneath his palms.
Now he ducked his head and kissed her half-parted lips.
I guess you fill the bill, too," he told her then.

The redhead's eyes were smoky. "What made you think
you could do that to me, Buchanan?"

"Half the fun, Carrie, is finding out."

"And what do you think would happen if you tried it
again?"

Buchanan cocked his head at her. "Dealer," he said,
T
hat
’
d be pushing my luck,"

"Push it."

The big man was actually surprised. He kissed her a
second time, tentatively, then warmed to it, gave it all the
attention it deserved.

A slim hand tapped him on the shoulder. Ruby Weston
asked, "Is this where the line forms?"

Buchanan looked up slowly, took in the enjoyably star
tling figure sheathed in red satin, and grinned.

'You're next," he said, and Carrie, who had not moved,
abruptly shoved herself out of his embrace. She gazed
coolly at Ruby, appraised the fancy gown, then tossed her
h
ead.

"Take over if you can
.”
she said. "I was all through with
him anyhow." She made the return journey to her own
room with a hip-swinging gait that was meant to show her
disdain, but which Buchanan enjoyed for its provocative
rhythm.

She closed the door behind her, then crossed to the darkened window. She was standing there, looking down
at the street, when Buchanan came out of the house,
Ruby Weston hanging onto him possessively.

Life didn't make any sense at all, Carrie James thought
out of the experience of twenty years of living. To be
made such a fuss over from San Francisco to Bella—then
to have to fight for one man she wanted for herself.

Emboldened by the considerable whisky he had taken
aboard, and fortified by the justification he felt, Frank Power crossed from Bella House to Troy's in search of
Mike Sandoe. With each stride he experienced an old,
familiar feeling in his thighs, a sense of running things, as it had always been when he toured the parade ground as
battalion commander.

He pushed the batwings aside and stepped into the big
room, stood importantly with hands on hips while he
surveyed the activity and peered through the heavy pall of
smoke.
Bernie
Troy materialized at his side.

"I'm glad you got back
.
"

"Why? What big troubles have you got?"

"They opened the Happy Times tonight."

"It was closed tight when I came through
,”

"They still opened it."

"Without Buchanan?"

"With someone else. Bird name of Durfee."

"Durfee?"

"Sandoe went over and killed him," Troy said. "But
Sandoe didn't wreck the place. Now I hear they're get
ting ready to open again."

"Was Ruby Weston there?" Power asked tightly.

"With bells on," his partner said, watching the bigger
man's expression. "They tell me she looked real fine
,”

Power's jawline tightened, "I'm looking for Sandoe
,”
lie said. "Where is he?"

"Playing poker."

"With what?"

"He lugged in a saddlebag full of money."

Rage leaped up into Power's face. He saw the gun-
fighter's back then, and beside his chair the saddlebag
that held the payroll. He squared his shoulders, walked
angrily to the card table.

"I want to see you
,”
he said crisply, and Mike Sandoe
looked around at him lazily.

"Be with you when I finish this hand
.
" Sandoe said, and
the insolence snapped what was left of Power's short
temper. He snatched the cards from Sandoe's fingers and
threw them to the floor.

"You're not
with
me at all!" he shouted savagely.
”You
goddam blundering fool, you're through!"

The game ended abruptly as the five other players
shoved their chairs back, got to their feet and out of the
way.

Sandoe sat as he was, measuring Power, noting that he
wore no gun at his belt.

"I can explain how it happened out there," he said.

"To hell with your explanations! That gun of yours cost
me fifty thousand dollars today. You going to explain the
money back to me?"

"Speak low
,”
Sandoe told him, an ominous edge creep
ing into his voice, "Watch your words careful."

The liquor glittered in Power's eyes,

"I said you were through. That's as careful as you'll
ever hear it from me
,”

"Hey, boys!" cried a voice from the entrance. "They're
back in business at the Happy Times!"

Whoops and hollers followed that glad announcement. Forgotten was the argument between Frank Power and
Sandoe as all of them broke fo
r
the street. Power swung
around himself, spotted the man who had brought the news, and went to him.

"Is there a lady dealing faro?" he asked,

"I'll say there is!" The courier turned and joined the
exiting crowd.

Power watched them. Then he, too, started forward.

"You better take me with you
,”
Mike Sandoe called
after the retreating figure, but there was no invitation.
"To hell with you, then
,”
the gunfighter snarled. "I got
mine."

And he
did
the three-hundred-odd still in the saddle
bag. Suddenly affluent, Sandoe strode to the bar. Three
hundred dollars!
He
thought. Hell, this country boy can
wheel and deal with that kind of money in his kick!

Chapter Sixteen

The second opening of the Happy Times was neither
grand nor gala. It was quiet and businesslike, which suited
Little Joe very well, even it if didn't please the theatrical
flair of Billy Burke, Little Joe especially liked the solid,
unobtrusive presence of Buchanan, who took a post along
the wall that kept him handy to the faro table and the
cash register, but out of the customers' way. Ruby Wes
ton also seemed to enjoy him there, smiling at him wick
edly from her dealer's place and giving the impression that
she was having the time of her life,

Marshal Grieve was also on the premises this time,
worriedly.

"What's happening to that deadline of yours?" Bu
chanan asked him.

"The one who had this job earlier found out about
it
,”
the lawman said. "And so will you."