“You haven’t answered my question, cowboy,” Dancer said. “Are you brave? Or are you a coward?”
“I don’t know,” Rob mumbled. He felt his stomach in his throat, and his knees were so weak that he had to put his hands on the bar to keep from collapsing. He was getting in deeper, and he didn’t know how to get out.
“You know what I think?” Dancer said. “I think you are a brave man. Yes, sir, it takes a brave man to do what you done. Bartender, give this brave man another drink, on me.”
“Thank you, no, I’ve had enough to drink,” Rob said. “I don’t want to go back out to the ranch drunk.”
“Are you turning down my generous offer?” Dancer asked.
“Mr. Dancer, I don’t think it’s that,” Jake said. “He never has been much of a drinker.”
Dancer didn’t say anything to Jake, but he held up his hand in a way that told Jake to stay out of it.
“Turn around, brave man,” Dancer said to Rob. “Turn around and tell me to my face that you don’t want to accept a drink from me.”
“I reckon I’ll have another drink at that,” Rob said.
Jake’s hand was shaking nearly as badly as Rob’s now, but he managed to get the drink poured, then set it in front of Rob.
“Thanks,” Rob said. He tossed the drink down.
“Why did you thank the bartender?” Dancer asked. “I’m the one that bought you the drink. Turn around and tell me thanks.”
“No, don’t do it, Rob. Don’t turn around,” Jake whispered.
“I’ve got to, Jake,” Rob answered. “If I don’t, I’ll never be able to hold my head up in this town again.”
Slowly, carefully, Rob turned around to face Dancer, who was about twenty feet from him. His jacket was pushed back to expose his pistol.
“You know where this is going now, don’t you, cowboy? I mean, you aren’t really all that dumb, are you?”
Rob took a deep breath. “It’s not going anywhere,” he said.
“Oh, but I think it is. You are a brave man, after all. I mean, we did decide that, didn’t we?”
“Look, let me buy you a drink and let’s call it even.”
“Uh-uh,” Dancer said, shaking his head. “I don’t think we can do that now. I think it’s time for you to dance with the demon.”
“No,” Rob said, holding up his left hand, palm out, as a signal to stop. “No, I’ve heard about you, how ever’ time you invite someone to dance with the demon, they die. Well, I ain’t goin’ to dance with the demon.”
“I think you will,” Dancer said.
“No, I ain’t, I tell you.”
Dancer drew and fired, doing it so quickly that it caught everyone in the saloon by surprise. By the time they realized what had happened, Dancer’s gun was already back in his holster.
His bullet had had hit Rob’s left earlobe. With a shout of pain, Rob slapped his left hand over his ear. When he pulled it back, he saw little pieces of his earlobe in the palm of his hand.
“You son of a bitch!” he shouted angrily. “You shot my ear!”
“Are you ready to dance with the demon?” Dancer asked.
“No!”
Dancer shot again, this time taking off the lobe of his right ear.
“I’m just going to keep carving off pieces of your ears until you draw,” Dancer said.
With a scream of fury, fear, and pain, Rob made a frantic grab for his pistol.
Dancer drew and shot him in the heart. By the time Rob hit the floor, dead, Dancer had already reholstered his pistol.
Chapter 23
DANCER LEFT THE SALOON, UNCHALLENGED, AND started toward the boardinghouse where he had a room. As he walked by the office of the Sweetwater Railroad, he was surprised to see a lantern burning inside.
Pulling his pistol, he pushed the door open and stepped into the building. The front room was dark, except for a bar of light that splashed through a partially open door leading into the back room.
Dancer moved quietly toward the door, wondering who was here. He stopped when he heard voices.
“How do you know this?” The voice belonged to Addison Ford.
“I pay the Western Union operator generously, to bring me copies of any telegram he thinks might interest me.” This voice belonged to Bailey McPherson. “And according to one he just brought me, U. S. Marshals will be here by tomorrow to arrest the perpetrators of the Sweetwater Railroad Company scheme.”
“The perpetrators?”
“Yes. You and me.”
“Wait a minute,” Addison said. “I’m not the perpetrator here. You are!”
“Try telling that to the U. S. Marshals when they get here tomorrow,” Bailey said. “At any rate, you’ll be on your own. I’m heading for California on the very next train.”
Surprised to hear that Bailey was leaving, Dancer pushed the door open and stepped into the room. His sudden appearance surprised both Bailey and Addison Ford.
“Ethan! What are you doing here?” Bailey asked.
“I just killed Dorchester’s foreman,” Dancer blurted out.
“What? You killed Hawke?”
“No, I told you, I killed Dorchester’s foreman. His name was Rob Dealey.”
“You ignorant baboon, Dealey isn’t Dorchester’s foreman. Hawke is.”
“I’m getting tired of you calling me a baboon,” Dancer said, his eyes snapping angrily.
“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” Bailey said, backing down. She knew she couldn’t afford to get crosswise with him now. “It doesn’t make any difference anyway. None of it does.”
Dancer looked around the room and saw that the safe was open. In addition, he saw that she had been putting bound stacks of money into a carpetbag.
“What are you doing?” Dancer asked. “Why are you going to California?”
“If you heard me say that I’m going to California, then you also know why. Our scheme has been found out. The government has taken back the land.”
“How did they find out?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t plan to stay around long enough to find out.” Bailey took a packet of money from the carpetbag and handed it to him. “I won’t be needing your services any longer. I don’t owe this to you, but you can consider it a tip for a job well done.”
“That’s it?” Dancer said, his voice dripping with venom. “You are just going to give me one single stack of money and think that squares us?”
Bailey looked up at Dancer, surprised by his reaction. “That’s one thousand dollars.”
“And I’m supposed to be satisfied with one thousand dollars?”
“Mr. Dancer, what did you think, that you were my partner?”
Dancer nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”
Bailey began laughing hysterically.
“You actually expected that I could be partners with someone like you? Why, you are barely human, you grotesque creature. Now, get out of here, take the money I offered you while it is still on the table. And don’t come back.”
Addison laughed.
“Why, look at you,” he said. “She practically has you quaking in your boots. I can’t believe that I have been frightened of you all this time.”
To the degree that Dancer’s distorted face could even show expression, it registered shock and confusion, then cold, calculated anger. But neither Bailey nor Addison were astute enough observers to notice the subtle change in Dancer’s demeanor. And that was too bad for them, because if they had noticed, it might have saved their lives.
