Kill Crazy (5 page)

Chapter Eight

“Bravo!” Biff said when Duff came back in to the bar. Everyone in the bar cheered, and Cindy sidled up to him again.

“That was the bravest thing I've ever seen,” she said.

“Let me get you a fresh drink,” Biff offered.

“No need,” Duff said. He held up the half-empty glass of scotch. “Sure 'n' you know that it only gets better with age. But I'll be for buying a glass of tea for the little lady.”

“Tea?” Cindy asked.

“Lass, I know 'tis tea the ladies drink in establishments such as this,” Duff said. “For sure 'n' if you drank whiskey every time a man bought a drink for you, you'd be a sot.”

Cindy laughed, leaned against him, and put her hand up on his neck.

Gently, Duff took her hand and moved it.

“Don't be for wastin' your time on a Scotsman like me,” he said. “I know there are many others in here that would welcome the attentions of a lass as winsome as yourself.”

“Yeah, Cindy, how come you ain't never tried to put your arm around my neck?” one of the customers asked in a good-natured complaint.

“Because you've never thrown a bully out in the street,” Cindy said, and her reply drew laughter.

Cindy left Duff and began mingling with the others.

“Honey, I could have told you you wouldn't get anywhere with him,” Nell said. “There's already a woman in this town who has him staked out, and she doesn't work in a saloon. Her name is Meagan Parker, and she owns the dress emporium that's right next door.”

“She might have him staked out. But there have been claims jumped before, so my advice to Miss Meagan is to hang on tight if she doesn't want to lose him.”

“Duff MacCallister is a good and honest man. You are makin' a big mistake if you think you can get him away from Meagan Parker.”

“We'll see,” Cindy said.

 

 

“What do you think about the new girl?” Biff asked, speaking so quietly that only Duff could hear him. “She's a pretty thing, isn't she?”

“Aye, that she is,” Duff agreed. “She reminds me of a lass I once knew.”

Duff grew quiet then, and Biff, knowing that Duff was having a moment of recall, moved down the bar to attend to someone else, leaving Duff with his thoughts.

Duff was remembering another young woman, one who, like Cindy, had had long red hair and flashing blue eyes.

That had been four years ago. Skye had been killed shortly after that, and Duff had killed the man who had killed Skye. It was for that reason he'd left Scotland.

The piano player returned, and the music brought Duff out of his reverie.

After he finished his drink, Duff stepped next door into Meagan's dress emporium. She was sitting at a sewing machine, working the treadle briskly.

“Duff,” she said with a bright smile. “How nice to see you.”

“You look busy,” Duff said.

“Yes, I'm making a dress for Juanita Guthrie.”

“Well then, I'll nae be bothering you.”

“It's no bother, Duff, you know that. By the way, what was the shooting earlier? I heard two shots, but by the time I looked out there was nothing to see but a bunch of men who seemed to find it amusing.”

“Meagan, sure 'n' have I nae told you, when you hear shooting outside, do nae go toward the windows. You should go away from them.”

“I was curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat. It could also kill you.”

“Are you goin' to tell me? Or will I have to walk next door and ask Biff what happened?”

“There is nae need for that,” Duff replied. He told Meagan about his run-in with Emile Taylor, downplaying his own role to one of, “a lucky break,” and “he wasn't expecting it,” and other explanations that made it seem as if his rousting Emile had been nothing more than a bit of luck.

“One thing I've noticed about you, Duff MacCallister, is that you seem to have a way of making your own luck,” Meagan said.

“Aye, there are those that say that is the best kind of luck. Meagan, 'tis wondering, I am, if we might be able to have dinner together tonight?”

“Oh, Duff, I would love to,” Meagan said. “But I've scheduled some fittings with Mrs. Guthrie and I'm afraid it's going to take up most of my evening. I'm so sorry.”

“That's all right. 'Tis your job, and I understand. Perhaps you could find time tomorrow to have lunch?”

“Yes, I would love to.”

“Good, I've some business with the bank tomorrow, so I'll be for coming back into town.”

“That's the only reason you will be coming back into town?”

“Aye, so 'twould be no trouble to be seeing you for lunch.”

Meagan chuckled. “You are such the romantic, Duff MacCallister.”

“Beg your pardon, lass?”

“Nothing. I'll see you at lunch.”

Duff touched his fingers to the brim of his hat, then withdrew.

 

 

Down at the Wild Hog, as the afternoon progressed into evening, more and more people came in until, eventually, the saloon was noisy and crowded with its evening customers. Three of the most recent arrivals were the same people Reid had done business with earlier in the day: Kid Dingo, Creech, and Phelps. Half drunk even before they arrived, they were louder and more boisterous than anyone else in the entire establishment.

Reid had not yet made his presence known to them, but sat alone at a table in the farthest corner of the saloon, watching as they made a place for themselves at the bar. They did this by the simple expedient of elbowing others out of the way. Occasionally one of them would get off a joke at someone else's expense, and he and the other two would laugh uproariously at his cleverness, unaware, or unconcerned, that the rest of the people in the saloon were not laughing with them, but were instead taking it all in, in embarrassed silence.

“Who are the funny boys?” someone asked Nippy Jones.

“The one with blond hair and the loudest mouth calls hisself Kid Dingo,” Jones said. “He's the youngest. The one with the red hair is a man named Creech. Don't know if that's his first or second name. The one with the dark hair and moustache is Phelps. I think they rode for Matt Heckemeyer for a while until he got rid of them. Since then, they've rode for first one rancher, then another, 'til, one by one ever'one got sick of 'em. I guess they been fired by near 'bout ever' spread within fifty miles of here.”

“They ain't never rode for MacCallister,” one of the customers said.

“No, now that you mention it, I don't think they have,” Nippy Jones replied. “Now they mostly drift about, rounding up a few strays here and there for whatever money they can make.”

“Yeah, and sometimes the strays ain't even strayed yet,” one of the others at the bar said. “What gets me is why the ranchers ain't figured that out.”

“They got it figured out, all right,” Nippy Jones said. “They just ain't caught anyone red-handed yet. But the moment they do, you can believe, there will be a necktie party.”

“That's a party I want to attend.”

“I wonder if the marshal knows they're in town?” Marcus asked.

The three men who were the subject of the table conversation, perhaps sensing that they were the subject, left the bar and wandered over to the card game.

“Well, now, this here looks like a friendly game,” Creech said. “Any of you 'bout ready to give up your seats?”

No one answered.

“Hey, you,” Creech said to one of the players. “I'm talkin' to you, harelip.”

Kid Dingo and Phelps laughed.

“Why don't about three of you boys get up and take a rest for a while and let us sit in the game?”

“Hey, Creech, you want to play, you go right ahead,” Phelps said. “I didn't come into town to play no cards. Hell, we can do that anywhere. I come for somethin' else.”

“Yeah, Phelps, we know what you come for,” Kid Dingo said. “You come to dip your wick.”

“Hey, look over there,” Creech said, pointing toward Reid. “Come on, let's go join our old friend Simon Reid. You boys go ahead and play without us.”

Though none of those playing cards said anything, it was obvious that they were glad to see the three men direct their attention somewhere else.

“What are you doing here?” Creech asked as they joined Reid at his table. “How come you ain't out at the ranch?”

“How come I ain't out at the ranch? 'Cause I quit, that's how come,” Reid said. “What are you doin' here? What happened to the cows?”

“You don't be worryin' none about them cows. We done got 'em all took care of.”

“Not anybody local, I hope. They could track them cows back to MacCallister.”

“We didn't get rid of 'em here,” Creech said. “What are you goin' to do now?”

“Right now I'm going to spend some of that money.” Reid smiled, then pointed upstairs. “Betty's upstairs with somebody now. I'm next in line.”

“Yeah, but I mean after that. I mean since you ain't workin' out at Sky Meadow no more, what are you goin' to do for a job?”

“I don't know. I ain't thought about it yet.”

“You could come on up to Bordeaux and throw in with us,” Creech invited.

“Yeah,” Phelps said. “If they was four of us, we could likely get somethin' goin'.”

The man who had gone upstairs with Betty came back down the stairs. His immediate need taken care of, he was aware now that he was the object of attention of everyone else in the saloon, and he had a self-conscious, rather sheepish expression on his face. Keeping his eyes down so as not to meet the gaze of anyone, he hurried on down to the bottom of the stairs, then out of the saloon.

“Ahh,” Reid said, getting up from the table and starting toward the stairs. “Betty is finished.”

“Hadn't you ought to wait 'til she comes back down?” Creech asked.

“What for?”

“What about Bordeaux?” Kid Dingo asked. “You goin' to come up and join us?”

“Might as well,” Reid tossed back over his shoulder as he started up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

 

 

“How was your trip into town?” Elmer asked when Duff returned with a bag of his purchases hanging from his saddle.

“It was good trip,” Duff said. “And I got some coffee.” He pulled a sack of coffee beans from the bag and handed it to Elmer.

“Good. I'll take this out to the cook so he can grind us some up,” Elmer said, holding the bag up. “By the way, how is Miss Parker doing?”

“I dinnae get to spend much time with her. She is very busy. She is making a dress for Mrs. Guthrie.”

“That doesn't mean anything. Don't you know that women just say things like that so they can test you?” Gleason asked.

“Sure now, an' what would she be testing me for, I ask?”

“To see whether or not you are serious about her,” Gleason answered with the ease of one who considered himself an expert in such matters. “If you listen to her and stay away like she's askin' you to, then that's exactly what she don't want. What she does want is for you to do what she said she didn't want you to do. Do you understand?”

Duff smiled and shook his head. “I'm not sure that I do understand.”

“Well, there ain't no real need for you to understand, 'cause the more I try to explain it to you, the harder it's goin' to be for you, you not knowin' women quite as much as I do. I guess what I'm tryin' to say is, when she told you she was just real busy, you didn't let her get away with it, did you?”