“Did he shoot them in self-defense?”
Sammy eyed me cynically, like I was being dumber than usual, and then laughed smartly. “You’re a card, Sheriff.”
“King must’ve been fast, pumping six rounds into them three before they knew what hit ’em.”
“They sure weren’t expecting it. They were just sipping suds when they began taking on lead pills.”
“Too bad you was back there and didn’t see it,” I said.
“That kid was wild, and when someone like him pulls an iron I don’t want to be around. I’m alive to tell about it.”
“Well, it’ll all be over tomorrow,” I said. “Justice done, and everyone in Puma County’ll forget it ever happened.”
“That’s what we’re counting on,” Sammy said.
“One thing, Sammy, and I want you to spread it. No sidearms, no weapons in the courthouse square or anywhere in town tomorrow. Not one. Anyone shows up armed in any way, my deputies will toss him into the tank, and he won’t see his sidearm for thirty days. And he’ll be charged with disturbing the peace.”
“How many men you think that’s gonna stop?” Sammy asked.
“As many as we can arrest and haul away,” I said. “I’ve told Crayfish. He’s got the word. I’ve told Admiral. He’s got the word. Now I’m telling these here men, so they got the word. And next I’m gonna tell the Anchor Ranch men, so they get the word. There’s not going to be one person on the courthouse square tomorrow who hasn’t got the word. We’re going to have a peaceful and proper hanging, and there’s not going to be any trouble.”
I knew every man in that place was listening real hard.
TWENTY-NINE
The sun was getting low, and so was I, when Caboose, the little breed boy that Big Lulu hired, came trotting up.
“Miss Lulu, she wants to see you. Someone in there worrying her,” he said.
“Caboose, you tell Lulu I’ll get on over real quick.”
Caboose trotted toward Red Light Row, and I started in behind, wondering what was troubling such a pleasant and religious old madam.
When I did get there, Big Lulu was doing her afternoon concert at the piano in the parlor. This time it was “Faith of Our Fathers,” which got a little mangled because some of them keys were out of tune. Doubtful must have been five hundred miles from the nearest piano tuner, which didn’t help the town anytime it came to music.
I peered around, and didn’t see much of any trouble brewing, except that over in a corner was Carter Bell. And none too sober either. I’d been looking for Carter Bell. He was one of them witnesses I wanted to rattle a little. He sure was different from the other riders. He liked to fancy himself up some, but he still looked like a rat. He scraped his cheeks most every day, and scrubbed his britches most every Sunday, and got himself clipped and combed so often he must’ve spent a lot of the wage that Crayfish Ruble laid on him once a month in the tonsorial parlor. He knew he had a little polish, and used it on women. The girls in the houses all liked him because he smelled good, or at least didn’t stink, like the rest of them cowboys. He was skinny and the girls didn’t mind that he looked like a rodent. He carried a revolver like the rest, but it was all for show. I don’t think he could hit an elephant at ten feet. That gun of his, it was a show gun, with pearly grips and some inlaid gold. It sure shone, but I wondered if he ever scrubbed the black powder out of the barrel.
I was glad to see him; I’d been looking for him and for Plug Parsons, seeing as how they were the only witnesses to the killing of them three T-Bar men. But I didn’t approach him just then. Big Lulu wanted me, so I just hovered around the upright piano and waited for her to wind up. She was singing away, reading the sheet music. “Modern Hymns,” it said. Her girls were serving the town fathers, as usual. There was the mayor, George Waller, being uplifted as usual. After closing the store, he would go to Big Lulu’s for the happy hymn time, and a half-price girl sometimes.
There was two, three girls in gauzy gowns serving whatever there was to serve around there, and I spent my time sort of peering through that gauze and being uplifted by them hymns. But all good things come to an end, or maybe all ends come to good things, but finally Big Lulu finished her matinee and turned to me real quiet.
“Carter Bell’s scaring us. He’s over there pouring red-eye down, and getting angry, and even pulling his gun out and waving it around.”
“Any reason?”
She sighed. “He says he’s the next Rocco.”
“Next Rocco?”
“Crayfish told him he would replace Rocco. Get women for Crayfish. Take care of all that, for a five-a-month pay raise.”
“And Carter didn’t refuse?”
“You don’t refuse Crayfish. You know that. And Crayfish told him if there was trouble, he’d get what Rocco got.”
Suddenly, I was real interested. “Which was?”
Big Lulu smiled. “A bullet through the heart, dearie.”
“It don’t make sense to me,” I said. “It being King Bragg’s bullet.”
She played a gloomy chord on the piano, striking a few of them notes that was out of tune. “You’ve always been a little slow, Pickens.”
She started in on “Amazing Grace,” and sang it in a wobbly warble. “Amazing Grace, how sweet the
