“What did Plug do?”
“He’s a big man, sort of all chest and shoulders, with a neck as thick as a gatepost. He came over, looked me up and down, and said, “Kid, if you think you’re man enough, come next door. Talk to Crayfish.”
“That all?”
King Bragg shut his eyes. “That’s all.”
“You followed him out?”
“No. He left. I finished my beer. I checked my loads and made sure my holster was loose. Then I went over to the Last Chance.”
I wanted to tell him that was the dumbest stunt a kid could do, but I guess he’d figured that out. So I just let him lie there. Maybe he’d say some more.
“There were a bunch in there,” he said, “and they were waiting for the son of Admiral Bragg to walk through the door.”
“Who?”
“Who cares now?” he replied.
“I care.”
“I looked around pretty close. If they were going to rag me, I wanted to know who I was up against. They were looking for trouble, and I’d give it to them.” He eyed me. “That’s why I’ve lived so long.”
“And there was Upward behind the bar, and Plug Parsons, right?”
“And Crayfish, and Carter Bell, and those three I guess I killed, Rocco and Foxy Jonas and Weasel Jonas.”
“I count seven, unless I got more fingers than I thought,” I said. “But in the trial, Upward said he didn’t see nothing because he was in the storeroom; Plug Parsons and Carter Bell, they were the witnesses against you. What happened to Crayfish himself? He was there?”
“Yes. Sort of licking his chops.”
“You ordered a drink?”
“Red-eye. That’s a man’s drink. Mrs. Gladstone had gotten to me, serving beer. So I ordered some firewater.”
“Then what?”
“Someone hit me. That’s all I know. I woke up in the sawdust with an empty gun.”
“You have a bump on your head when someone hit you?”
“No. I don’t remember. I had a headache.”
“Where’d you get hit?”
The boy just shrugged and turned away.
“Kid, I’m going to look into some things. You get some rest now.”
“I’ll get more rest than I want in a few hours.”
I left him staring into the low ceiling, locked the jailhouse door, and headed out. Crayfish had been there. That didn’t come up at the trial. Crayfish Ruble was there, with Plug Parsons, and them two brothers that was mavericking calves, and Rocco, who was sort of pimping for Ruble and maybe stirring his own pot a little. And they goaded the poor kid into going in there.
Doubtful was a different town now that the gallows was up and a noose was twirling in the breeze. People no longer stopped to stare at it, but hurried past, not wanting to see it. All the brats that hung around there had vanished, and the only person I saw was a poor old grandma in black, sitting on a bench and staring at that noose. Some crows settled on the crosspiece and crapped on the platform, and I thought I’d clean it up real good. I didn’t want any bird stuff on there when the day came. I wanted the gallows to be real clean, spotless, like a gallows should be.
I headed for the Last Chance Saloon, but Sammy Upward hadn’t opened up yet. It was still morning, and none of the joints on Saloon Row had opened up. I rattled the door, but no one came along. I walked around to the back door, on the alley, where it stank all to hell, and that was open. I walked right into that place and yelled, but Upward wasn’t around.
Maybe I was trespassing, but I didn’t let it worry me none. There was a whole book of laws I was supposed to know, but I never could get ’em figured out, so I just ignored ’em and did what needed doing. What needed doing this time was a real careful search. I wanted to know if there were bullet holes in the walls, and where the bullets came from. If the Bragg boy had pulled his revolver while standing at the bar, he’d have shot away from the bar, or at least along it. So I kept looking around for holes in the wood, and I found a few. That T-Bar bunch cut loose now and then, so there was holes every which way. It didn’t do me no good to try to pick out the ones that the Bragg boy put there. The other thing I wanted to see was what Upward saw when he was hiding from all the lead flying around after King Bragg started pulling the trigger. So I got over to the storeroom, and looked out at where Bragg was standing, and at the rest of the place, and then I stepped back, just as Sammy Upward would have ducked when them six-guns started spitting lead pills.
I also wanted to see what Upward kept under the bar. He had a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun resting there, a billy club, and way back in a dark corner, a little blue glass bottle with an eyedropper top on it. I reached for that, since I’d never seen the like. It didn’t have any label on it, but it was a blue bottle just like pharmacists use, and there wasn’t a thing that was telling me what it was. I got real curious about that bottle, and slid her into my pocket. I thought I’d see what was in there, and maybe try it out. Maybe Upward had the measles or something, and needed a dose of laudanum, or whatever they give for measles or mumps or the pox.
It fit into my pocket. If Sammy Upward was missing his medicine, he’d probably start asking his customers who done it, and meanwhile I’d find out what I could about the stuff.
I sure didn’t learn much of anything in there. I didn’t see any bullet holes in the bar itself, like maybe someone
