“You’re lookin’ right at him.” Leslie replied, flatly.
“Was he really that fast, Bat’?” Virgil asked.
“Well, to tell you the truth, I didn’t see it.” Masterson replied. “but I heard both shots come so close together. I would have sworn they had been fired from different guns.”
Virgil looked at Neilson with new respect. ‘Where did you learn to shoot like that, Kid?”
Neilson was still slightly overwhelmed. His hesitance and confusion were taken as modest embarrassment. He simply shrugged and said, “Practice.”
The bodies were still lying on the floor. No one made a move to do anything about them. The door swung open and two more men came in. both with pistols drawn. One man was tall and slim, with dark blond hair and blue eyes. He had a flowing handlebar moustache that curled up at the ends and, like Virgil, he was dressed in a black suit. He also wore a badge. The family resemblance was strong and unmistakable. The other man was pale, thin and slightly built, perhaps a hundred and twenty pounds, with sandy hair, sharp features, a moustache and intense. slate-gray, spectral-looking eyes.
“Heard there was some shootin’, Virgil.” And right fancy shooting, from what I hear,” Virgil replied. “It appears that this young gentleman has saved the lives of Frank and Bat. What’s more, they claim he could be even faster than you are. Come on over and say hello to the Montana Kid, just arrived in town. Kid, meet my brother, Wyatt. And the gent with him is Doc Holliday.”
The two men put away their pistols and Scott was speechless as he shook their hands.
“I’m much obliged to you for coming to the aid of my good friends.” said Wyatt.
“Just arrived in town, eh?” Holliday said. He coughed and glanced at the bodies. “Kid, I’ll grant you one thing. You sure do make one hell of an entrance.”
They took a bottle and moved to a table.
Wyatt glanced down at the corpses. “Jack Demming and Slim Carter” he said, with a grunt. “Well, that’s two less rustlers we need to be concerned with. But I’d watch my back from now on if I were you, Kid. The Clanton bunch won’t take too kindly to the service you just performed for this community. You plannin’ on stayin’ in town?”
He was askin’ after some friends of his,” said Frank Leslie. “Summers, Billings and McEnery.”
Wyatt frowned. “You told him?”
“I started to,” said Frank, “and then things got a little hot around here.
“He told me they were dead,” said Scott. “What happened to them?”
“Kin of yours?” asked Wyatt.
“No, just good friends. We, all grew up together.”
“It’s too bad about what happened.” Wyatt said, sympathetically. They were good men, thought highly of around here.
They were murdered out at their claim.”
“Funny thing, though,” Doc said. “I never saw bullet wounds that looked quite like that before. No blood to speak of. Had to be small caliber, one of those little Colt New Line pocket pistols. Whoever shot ’em got up real close. You could see the burn marks on the clothing and even on the wounds.”
“We thought at first it might’ve been the rustlers,” Virgil said. “They’re not above shootin’ down a man that’s got a roll. But I don’t know of any rustlers armed with pocket pistols. They would have used their rifles or their. 45s. A pocket pistol is a gambler’s weapon. Not much use ‘cept at close range. Only there was no sign of them playing cards out there. We thought it could have been some claim jumpers, but then nobody’s been workin’ their claim. It’s a riddle, all right. We get a lot of strangers comin’ through town and, sad to say, those kind of things tend to happen around here. Unless somebody talks, we may never know who killed ’em.’
Scott was thinking about what Doc had said. He’d never seen bullet wounds like that before. Small wounds. Burn marks. No blood to speak of. To Doc and the others, it may have looked like the sort of wounds a small-caliber pocket pistol like the Colt New Line could inflict. To Scott, it sounded ominously like a laser.
“They were decent men,” said Wyatt. “Never gave anybody any trouble. We gave ’em a proper Christian burial.”
“What about their personal effects?” asked Scott.
“Sold ’em off.” said Frank. “There really wasn’t very much. Their rig and horses. saddles. Winchesters and six-guns… most everything got cleaned out by the killers. Don’t think those boys were pullin’ much out of that claim, anyhow. unless they had it stashed. They were right decent enough fellows, but they don’t seem to have worked too hard.”
“Were there any bracelets’?” Scott asked. “Indian bracelets, like the one I’ve got?” He held up his arm and pulled back his sleeve to show them. “They’re not really worth much, but we all had ’em. They’d have sentimental value to me.”
“Come to think of it. I do recall those bracelets.” Leslie said. “I tried to buy one off ’em once, but none of ’em would sell. They said the same thing, that the bracelets had sentimental value. They all got ’em together somewhere.”
“I don’t recall any Indian bracelets among their personal effects.” Virgil said. “Do you. Wyatt?”
“Nope. I don’t believe I do. The killers must’ve stolen ’em, along with any money they had. They have any kin?”
“Yeah,” said Scott. “I’ll have to write to ’em. I’d like to take a look at where it happened, if that’s all right with you.
“Sure thing,” said Virgil. “But I wouldn’t plan on goin’ out there tonight. I’d wait till morning if I was you.”
“I’ll rent a rig and run you out tomorrow: said Masterson.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“It’s the least I can do, after you saved my life.”
“What are your plans. Kid” asked Wyatt.
“I don’t know,” said Scott “I’d like to find out what happened to my friends, if I can. Ask around, see what I can learn.”
“We’ve already done that,” Virgil said. “You’re welcome to ask around, so long as all you do is ask. I don’t want any more gunplay in this town. Kid. We’ve got plenty enough as it is.”
“I don’t want any trouble,” Scott replied.
“The way you handle a gun, it’s liable to find you just the same,” said Leslie.
“What did you do up in the Montana ‘Territory, Kid?” asked Virgil.
“My folks were farmers in the Bitterroot.” said Neilson.
“You don’t have the look of a farmer,” Virgil replied.
“It didn’t suit me, so I left.”
“You wear your hair like a plainsman,” said Wyatt. “Do much buffalo hunting?”
Scott knew that Wyatt Earp had been a buffalo hunter in his youth, along with Bat Masterson In fact, much of Masterson’s early reputation stemmed from a harrowing Indian attack known as the Battle of Adobe Walls, where a handful of buffalo hunters had stood off about two hundred Indians with their six-guns and Sharps rifles. His fame from that encounter had led to his becoming a lawman in Dodge.
“I hunted some.” he answered.
“How do you skin a buffalo?” asked Wyatt, softly.
Scott knew what this was all about and he had to handle it just right. Fortunately, he know the answer, but he made a long pause before giving it, staring Wyatt Earp right in the eyes. Wyatt met his gaze steadily.
“You cut up the insides of the legs and down the belly, then around the head,” said Scott. “Then you tie a rope up to the hide and hitch it on a horse. It peels right back. Only that’s work for skinners, not for hunters.”
Masterson nodded.
“So he hunted buffalo.” said Holliday. “Still doesn’t mean he’s not a gunfighter. ‘Specially if he’s as fast as Frank says.”
“Practice your fast draw on the farm, did you?” Wyatt asked, softly. Virgil simply looked on quietly, watching him carefully.
“Like I said. Marshal,” Scott replied, in a steady voice. “I don’t want any trouble. I didn’t start what happened here tonight.”
