each course are obvious. The benefits… not so obvious.'
From the hotel came a gush of player-piano notes: a syrupy ballad, its long dragged-out notes sustained by octave-wide trilling. Matthew half-knew the song: something about a girl in a cage. The male voices were joined by a wobbly soprano. 'That's Queeny,' Matthew said. And when the others looked at him questioningly, he added, 'She… ah… she used to be in show business.'
B. J. turned to Mr. Kane. 'I don't think we have the option of sitting tight and doing nothing. It's our bad luck that they came just after the miners went back up to the Lode. That means we'd have to hold out for six whole days.'
'Too long,' Mr. Kane agreed. 'Much too long. So what do you suggest?'
'Well, I've concocted half a dozen plans, but they all come down to the same thing in the end. We have to band together to protect ourselves. And particularly to protect…' His lit eye disappeared as he glanced over at Ruth Lillian.
Mr. Kane nodded.
A burst of ribald laughter came from the hotel, and the player piano began 'She's Only a Bird in a Gilded Cage' again, this time without the singing.
B. J. continued. 'One possibility would be to barricade ourselves here in the Mercantile, or we could — '
'Why in here?' Mr. Kane asked.
'Because there's food here. And the gun you keep in case of robbers.'
'Food yes. But no gun. I used to keep one behind the counter, but no longer. To tell you the truth, I'm afraid of them.'
A long sigh escaped B. J. 'Well, I'll admit that's a blow. I naturally assumed you had a gun under the counter or somewhere.'
There was a flutter of laughter from across the street. Someone whistled a piercing note between his teeth. The player piano continued grinding out the soupy ballad.
'Well, maybe it's just as well that we don't try to hold out here, after all,' B. J. said. 'That would only draw their attention toward the Mercantile when-thank God-they don't yet know that Ruth Lillian exists. That leaves us only one way to go. We'll have to get the men of the town together and drive them out.'
'Kill them, you mean?'
'Mr. Kane, I'm not a violent man. And my pacifist principles are reinforced by a generous portion of cowardliness. But when you're dealing with men like that…'
'But if we face them down, we're the ones likely to get shot. After all, they have all the guns.'
'Not all the guns. The Bjorkvists have hunting rifles, and if they join us, we can-'
'No, sir,' Matthew interrupted. 'The Bjorkvists don't have any guns. Those men came and took them. And they beat up Mr. Bjorkvist and Oskar. Bashed their faces together and broke their noses.'
'How do you know this?'
'I snuck over to talk to… them.' His eyes flicked to Ruth Lillian and back. 'I was trying to find out what was happening. After getting beat up so bad, the Bjorkvists wouldn't dare do anything to make those men mad.'
'I see. ' There was a silence during which Matthew could hear the squeak-squirt of B. J. Stone swallowing. 'Well…!' He sucked at his teeth. Then: 'All right. But that still leaves the people over at the Traveller's Welcome. Now, I know for a fact that Jeff Calder has his Civil War rifle. He waves it around when he's drunk and yammering on about what a hero he was. And surely Delanny packs some kind of gambler's weapon, a derringer, or a pepperbox. That's two guns. And it's possible that- What is it? What's wrong?'
Mr. Kane was shaking his head. 'What makes you believe they haven't taken Calder's and Delanny's weapons as well? And even if they haven't, what chance do you think a consumptive gambler and a one-legged old man would have against three insane killers armed to the teeth? I don't mean to belittle your-'
The player piano came to the end of its ballad with a climax of two-fisted chords, then a woman's voice snarled out a string of abuse the vituperous intent of which could not be mistaken, even if the words were smeared by her whiskey-thick tongue.
A harsh laugh.
A scream and a crash of glass that made the four sitting in the Mercantile catch their breaths.
The doors of the bar flapped against the sides of the hotel.
Mr. Kane crossed to the window and looked obliquely down the street to where lamplight spilled from the door of the Traveller's Welcome. 'My God, she's…' He returned to the table and sat heavily. 'They've stripped her naked and thrown her out into the street.'
'Who?'
'The old one.'
'Queeny?'
Mr. Kane nodded.
From within the hotel the music-roll ballad began again, and the drunken voices rose… for her love was so- o-o-old, for an o-o-old man's go-o-o-old…
After a silence, Matthew felt he should try to take their minds off Queeny lying out there, naked. 'Ah… Mr. Lieder came to see me over to the marshal's office a couple of hours ago.'
'What did he want?' B. J. asked.
'He was looking for guns. He talked a lot, but I couldn't tell when he was joking and when he wasn't. He said I reminded him of himself when he was a kid. And he asked if I wanted to become one of his gang. He said something about me being his sword and his shield and his apostle-you know how he talks.'
'And what did you say to him?'
'I didn't know what to say. I just sort of played dumb.'
'That's good,' Mr. Kane said. 'If he's taken a liking to you, maybe he'll take you into his confidence, and we'll know what they're planning to-'
They all jumped convulsively at the sound of a gunshot from the hotel.
B. J. went to the window and peered down the street.
'What is it?' Mr. Kane hissed.
'She's all right. I was afraid they'd… But she's still there on the steps, her head hanging between her legs. Dead drunk, from the look of her.' Then, in an optimistic tone meant for Ruth Lillian: 'Chances are they were just shooting into the air. You know… making noise just for the sake of making noise.'
Mr. Kane rubbed his fingertips across his forehead and closed his eyes. Then he said quietly, 'What about poison?'
'Poison?' B. J. asked. 'How would we poison them?'
'I don't know! The possibility just came to me. Matthew here will be making their breakfast tomorrow. Maybe… I don't know… something in the coffee or…?'
'But, Pa!' Ruth Lillian said. 'That'd kill everyone. Mr. Delanny. The girls. Everyone!'
'But we've got to do something!' Mr. Kane stood up, knocking the table with his knee. 'We can't just sit here while they-!' He grunted and grasped his left arm as though to pinch off the pain that swelled in his chest and streaked down to the elbow.
'Pa!'
'It's all right,' he said between clenched teeth as he slumped back into his chair. 'It's only…'
Ruth Lillian took her father's hand, and Matthew saw her slim fingers crumple under the strength of his grip. He knew it must hurt to have her knuckles crunched together like that, but she didn't make a sound.
Mr. Kane gasped twice, each time emitting a little chirp of nasal sound as he drew himself up tight in an effort to stay above the chest pain. Finally he let out a long wheezing sigh… gingerly, as if he were testing for a final stab of pain. Then… 'It's passed,' he whispered. 'Thank God.'
'You're all right?' B. J. Stone asked.
'Yes. Yes, I'm fine now. I'm… sorry.' He released Ruth Lillian's hand and patted it, as though to soothe any pain he might have inflicted.
After a silence, B. J. said, 'Well, at least there's one thing in our favor.'
'Tell me,' Mr. Kane said, forcing a smile. 'I could use a little good news just now.'
'They don't know about Coots. When they came, he was off bringing a string of donkeys up to the Lode. I expect him back early tomorrow morning.'
