“Shut up, Cletus,” Ray said. “This is between MacCallister and Tyree.”
When Tyree saw that the Clinton brothers had just taken themselves out of it, and he was going to have to face Falcon alone, the smile on his face faded. He had thought that with the Clintons he had an edge. Now he saw that edge taken away. That left Tyree with self-doubt, and the self-doubt caused him to feel fear, perhaps for the first time in his life. And that fear was mirrored in his eyes and in the nervous tick on the side of his face. His tongue came out to lick his lips.
When he saw Tyree’s fear begin to manifest itself, an easy grin spread across Falcon’s face. Even that, the grin in the face of a life and death situation, seemed to unnerve Tyree.
Suddenly, Tyree’s hand started for his gun. He was fast, but Falcon was just a heartbeat faster. Falcon fired, and Tyree caught the ball high in his chest. Dropping his gun, Tyree slapped his hand over his wound. He looked down in surprise as blood squirted through his fingers, turning his shirt bright red. He took two staggering steps toward Falcon, then fell to his knees. He looked up at Falcon.
“Son of a bitch,” he said. He smiled, then coughed, and flecks of blood came from his mouth. He breathed hard a couple of times. “Son of a bitch, you’re fast.”
“No, you were just slow,” Falcon said easily.
Tyree fell facedown, then lay still.
Cletus, seeing that Tyree was dead, held his hand out in front of him.
“I ain’t goin’ to draw on you,” he said. “If you kill me, ever’one in here will be able to testify that you killed me in cold blood.”
“Go home, both of you,” Falcon said. “Tell your pa he has thirty days to sell his ranch and move out.”
“What?” Cletus replied, practically shouting the word.
“You heard me,” Falcon said. “You have thirty days to sell your ranch and move out of the state.”
“What the hell! You can’t order us out of the state!”
“I just did.”
“And if we don’t?” Cletus asked.
Falcon didn’t say a word, but he smiled. It was the same smile he’d had just before he killed Tyree. The impact wasn’t lost on either of the Clintons.
Chapter Twenty-one
J. Peerless Bixby, the Higbee undertaker, put Tyree’s body in a wooden coffin, then stood him up in front of his establishment. One of Tyree’s eyes was closed, the other was half open. His hands were crossed in front of his body, and he was holding his gun. A sign was pinned to his chest.
JEFFERSON TYREE
Noted Murderer And Outlaw
Killed in a FAIR FIGHT
by Falcon MacCallister
The Vermillion was decorated with black bunting around the windows and a black wreath on the door. It had been closed since Travis was killed, and had just reopened for the first time tonight.
Rachael had accepted Falcon’s invitation to dinner, and the two of them were sitting at a table at the back of the restaurant.
When the waiter came to the table, Rachael ordered baked chicken, green beans with mushrooms, and a salad. The waiter nodded, then started back to the kitchen with her order. He didn’t ask Falcon what he wanted.
“Aren’t you going to order?” Rachael asked.
“I don’t need to,” Falcon replied. “He knows what I want.”
“And what would that be?”
“Steak and baked potato.”
“You have the same thing every time?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I like it,” Falcon said simply.
For a long moment, Falcon and Rachael sat in silence, a single candle lighting the distance between them. Finally, Falcon broke the silence.
“You’re going back East,” he said. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
Rachael nodded, but said nothing.
“Edwin?”
“He wants me to come back and join him again for a series of performances.”
“You should go back,” Falcon said. “You are wasting your talent by playing piano in a saloon, even a saloon as nice as the Golden Nugget.”
“That isn’t the only reason I’m going back,” Rachael said.
