“It’s what you didn’t do,” she said. “I had to hear it from someone else that you were involved in a shooting this morning.”
Butler shrugged.
“I didn’t think it was big news.”
“That you shot and killed a bounty hunter on the street?”
“In a fair fight.”
“Okay,” she said, “but who was he? What was he doing in town? And how did it come to be you who shot him?”
“All very good questions.”
“And will you answer any of them?”
He thought a moment.
“I don’t want my name in the paper again,” he said finally.
“Did you read the interview?”
He hadn’t. The paper was still in his room, unopened.
“The man’s name was Kevin Ryerson,” he said. “He was a bounty hunter. I don’t know who he was here for, but he forced me into a confrontation for some reason.”
“And you’re not wanted by the law?”
“I’m not.”
“No wanted posters out on you?”
“No,” Butler said. “You can ask the marshal. I understand he was checking on that.”
“Maybe I will,” she said.
“Don’t be so mad,” he told her. “There was nothing that happened this morning that’s going to get you to San Francisco any faster.”
“So are you a gunman now?” she asked. “I thought you were just a gambler. Are you another Ben Thompson?”
“Definitely not another Thompson,” Butler said. “I’m not a gunman. The bounty hunter just wasn’t as fast with a gun as he thought he was.”
“Well,” she said, “that was good for you.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Why didn’t the marshal step in and stop it? Or the sheriff?”
“I can’t answer those questions,” he said. “I don’t even know who your new sheriff is.”
She was breathing as fast, or looking as agitated as she had been. And she’d never really been angry. Just frustrated.
“Look,” he said, “I promise you, if I kill anybody else you’ll be the first to know.”
“That’s not funny,” she said, then added, “but all right.”
They stood there facing each other for a few seconds, and then he said, “Well.”
“Yes,” she said, “I have to get back to work. You’re, uh, not leaving town because of this, are you?”
“No,” he said, “not leaving town.”
“Well, good, maybe we can…talk later.”
He smiled at the fact that she had suddenly become very shy.
“I’ll come over and see you.”
“That would be nice.”
She turned and walked away. He watched her for a block, then went his own way.
CHAPTER 52
“When are we gonna make our next move?” Updegraff asked A. J. Peacock.
“As soon as the men I sent for get here.”
“Men? How many are we talkin’ about?”
“As many as we need to do the job.”
“How much is that gonna cost?”
“What do you care, Al?” Peacock asked. “You’re not paying anybody anything. In fact, you’ve made money off all of this.”
“What? How?”
“Oh, come on,” Peacock said, shaking his head. “Don’t make me tell you, Al.”
“Are you callin’ me a thief, Anthony?”
“What if I am?”
The two men faced each other over Peacock’s desk, his face turning red and Updegraff’s jaw thrust out pugnaciously.
“Look,” Peacock said, “step back and take a deep breath. All we have to do is wait for Ruger and his men.”
“You sent for Ruger?” Updegraff asked. “That’s gonna cost—oh, never mind.”
“Right, never mind,” Peacock said. “Whatever it costs is gonna be worth it when I’m sole owner of the Lady Gay.”
“Sole owner?” Updegraff asked. “You mean I ain’t gonna be your partner?”
“I’ve had it with partners,” Peacock said. “What I’ll do is cut you in for a small piece. Let’s start with ten percent, minus whatever you’ve stolen in beer, whiskey, and cash.”
“That ain’t fair!”
“Stop stealing from me and maybe it’ll get fair, Al,” Peacock said. “Just do your job for a while until Ruger gets here and then we’ll see what happens. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
“Then go to work.”
Updegraff headed for the door, but Peacock stopped him by calling his name.
“What?”
“Keep your gun clean,” Peacock said.
“What for?”
“I hired Ruger, that’s true,” Peacock explained, “but we’re gonna get our hands dirty, too.”
“That’s fine with me,” Updegraff said, “as long as I get to pump some lead into Masterson.”
“Oh, yeah? And what’ll you do when his brother finds out?”
“I ain’t afraid of Bat Masterson.”
“I’ll remind you that you said that, Al, when the time comes.”
Updegraff left the office, slamming the door behind him. Peacock sat back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head. If Al Updegraff thought he was going to take on another partner after he rid himself of Jim Masterson he was in for a big surprise.
Once Jason Ruger got to town, Jim Masterson’s days were numbered, because Ruger didn’t let anything get in his way when he was doing a job he was getting paid for—not even the law.
Butler was not happy about having to kill Ryerson. His only consolation was that it had not been a circus. Word was spreading, but they hadn’t had a big crowd watching them.
He always felt relieved when he killed a man who was trying to kill him, but he never felt satisfied. Killing a man was not something he enjoyed, even though he had been forced into getting good at it.
He stopped at the general store and picked up three more three-for-a-nickel cheroots. He was going to sit in front of the hotel again, relax, keep his back to the wall, and wait for the poker games to get started in the saloon. Tonight he might try the Alhambra. It would be nice to play without having Ryerson looking over his shoulder.
He settled back into his chair—the armchair Ben Thompson had brought out from the lobby.
Marshal Fred Singer entered Mayor A. B. Webster’s office and neither man was very happy.
