He got up and took off his jacket. He was wearing his big.44 in a shoulder rig, and there was no further need to hide it. We walked across the street and stood in front of Mary Lou's store, Hawk on my left. The Preacher saw us and said something to the driver and he kept coming, and the second car followed, until he pulled up to a stop in front of us. The Preacher gestured and the two cars emptied, leaving only The Preacher and his driver still seated. Pony was in front of me. But he was aware of Hawk. I could see his eyes shift over and back. The others spread out around us in a semicircle. No one spoke. The Preacher seemed almost amused. Peripherally I could see Tedy Sapp's car move slowly in from the north end of the street, and Bobby Horse drive up from the south. Otherwise nothing moved in the street.
'So who are you,' The Preacher said finally, 'Wyatt fucking Earp?'
'I got some questions,' I said.
The Preacher smiled.
'Pony,' he said.
Pony took a step toward us and Hawk's gun barrel was suddenly pressed against his forehead. Guns came out all around us. The sound of hammers thumbed back was brisk in the hot silence. The Preacher showed no expression. Everything stopped stock-still. Behind The Preacher, to my left, Tedy Sapp was out of his car with his elbows resting on the hood and the shotgun leveled. To the right Bobby Horse was the same.
'The ball goes up,' I said to Tedy Sapp, 'kill The Preacher first.'
My voice seemed blatant in the cavernous silence. The men in front of us glanced quickly around. Chollo walked out of the alley behind us, his Glock 9-millimeter handgun hanging loosely by his side.
'Let me kill him,' Chollo said.
His voice was amplified by the silence as mine had been. Bernard J. Fortunato, with his shotgun at his shoulder, stepped out across the street. He didn't speak, but the shotgun was steady. From the secondfloor window of the hotel I heard Vinnie. I couldn't see him, but the barrel of the Heckler Koch was resting on the windowsill.
'No,' Vinnie said. 'Let me.'
The silence seemed to twist and tighten. The frozen immobility of the scene seemed to squeeze in upon itself as though it would eventually shatter. I felt as if the pit of my stomach were clenched tike a fist. Fortunately I was brave, clean and reverent, otherwise I might have been a little scared.
'You got any preference?' I said to The Preacher.
'This all the people you got?' The Preacher said.
'All we need at the moment,' I said. 'You know a guy named Morris Tannenbaum?'
The Preacher just stared at me.
'Morris tells me you and he had a deal,' I said. 'But he's mad at you now and wants you gone.'
No one moved. The Preacher stared.
'Wants to pay us to get rid of you.'
Hawk still pressed the muzzle of his.44 against Pony's forehead. I could hear Pony breathing.
'This guy Tannenbaum,' The Preacher said. 'He tell you this himself?'
'Ronnie told us,' I said.
The Preacher thought about that.
'So what's your question?' The Preacher said.
'What was your deal with Tannenbaum?'
The Preacher thought about that. I was pretty sure he wasn't brave, clean and reverent, but he didn't seem scared. In fact he didn't seem anything. His pale eyes showed nothing that I could detect. His voice was without inflection. His body language revealed nothing. In fact there was no body language. He sat motionless.
'Why should I tell you?' he said.
'Why not?' I said.
The Preacher looked slightly amused. His face like one of those close-up photographs of rattlesnakes where the snake seems almost mischievous.
'Why not,' he said.
I waited, both of us ringed with weapons, both of us heated by the sun. Then The Preacher made some sort of facial gesture which was probably a smile.
'Why not,' he said again. 'Tannenbaum wanted us to run people out of Potshot.'
'Why?'
'He never said.'
'What did you get?'
'I got a fee. And we got whatever we could squeeze out of the town.'
'Why is the deal off?'
'Maybe you should ask him.'
'I don't have him in the middle of the street with six weapons pointed at him.'
'You think I'm talking 'cause I'm scared?'
