Читать книгу Buzzard's Bluff - William W. Johnstone - Страница 9

CHAPTER 4

He walked back the length of the main street, just to get a feel for the town, past the hotel, the sheriff’s office, the post office, and Howard’s General Merchandise. Then he turned around and headed back to the Lost Coyote Saloon. When he stepped inside the door, he paused there a few seconds to look the room over. He recognized the two cowhands who had ridden by him when he had stopped to look at the saloon before. They were seated at a table playing cards with two other men. At the far end of the bar, the bartender, a huge man, was talking to a woman who had a cup of coffee on the bar before her. Always an imposing figure, Ben attracted a looking-over by the bartender and the woman as well. After a moment, Ben walked over to the bar. “Howdy,” the bartender moved down the bar to serve him. “Whatcha gonna have?”

“Howdy,” Ben returned and touched his hat brim politely as he nodded to the woman. “Tell you the truth, I’d like to have a cup of that coffee the lady’s drinkin’, if you sell coffee.”

“Sure thing,” Tiny Davis said. “We’ll sell you some coffee.”

“I’ll get it for you,” the woman said to Tiny, then to Ben she said, “If you need something to eat with it, we sell that, too.” She waited for his decision. “You’re in luck today. Annie’s husband killed a deer this morning and she cooked up some stew with that fresh venison.”

“That sounds pretty good,” Ben replied. “I’ll give that a try.”

“You won’t be sorry,” the woman said. “Sit down at a table and I’ll bring it to you.” She went to the kitchen while Ben settled into a chair at a table close to the bar.

Tiny walked over to talk to him while he waited for his coffee. “You just ride into town? I know I ain’t ever seen you in here before.”

“That’s a fact,” Ben answered. “The last time I passed through here, there wasn’t anything but a store and a blacksmith.”

“Man, that was a long time ago,” Tiny responded. “What brings you back this way? You thinkin’ about lookin’ for some land around here?”

“I reckon you could say that,” Ben answered. “I thought I’d like to get a feel for the town—see what you folks are doin’ with the town.”

“You couldn’t find a town with a better future than Buzzard’s Bluff,” Tiny claimed. “We’re seein’ more families movin’ here every year.” He paused then to introduce himself. “I’m Tiny Davis.” Ben wasn’t surprised by the name. He offered his hand just as the woman came with the coffee and stew. Tiny stepped aside to give her room. “And this is Rachel Baskin,” he said. “She’s the manager.”

“Ben Savage,” he said, “pleased to meet you, ma’am.” She extended her hand and they shook. “So you’re the boss,” Ben commented.

“Well, no, not really,” Rachel said. “I guess you could say I manage the saloon. The owner was the boss, but he just passed away recently, so I’m the boss temporarily until we get a new owner, I guess. We heard that the saloon has a new owner, but we don’t know what he’ll do with it. I don’t even know if I’ll still have a job, once he gets here. My hope is that he’ll be just as clueless about running a business as Jim was. I don’t think Jim would have made it six months on his own. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t love the man.”

“Have you been workin’ here a long time?” Ben asked.

“Since the day Jim Vickers officially opened the door for business,” she said. “He didn’t have any family to help him, and I needed to make a living for myself.”

“I woulda thought, if the owner didn’t have any family, the saloon mighta just gone to you when he died.”

“That’s what I thought,” Tiny commented. “Jim was in such poor health for the last year or more, so Rachel was runnin’ the business. We figured that when he died, the saloon would just keep operatin’ with Rachel runnin’ it.”

“It didn’t happen that way, though,” Rachel said. “Come to find out, Jim had a will and left the saloon to somebody. The lawyer said it would probably be sold, because he said the new owner wasn’t likely to keep it.”

“And he didn’t tell you who the person was that inherited it?” Ben asked. They both shook their heads. “Well, I can understand why you’re wonderin’ what’s gonna happen.” He would have told them what was going to happen, but he wasn’t sure, himself, at this point. The only thing he was sure of he did comment on, however. “You know, you weren’t lyin’, this stew is good. Reckon I could have another cup of that coffee?”

Rachel smiled and was about to respond when she was interrupted by an outburst from the card game. They looked toward the table to see one of the players on his feet. A stubby little man with red hair and beard, he was pointing at one of the cowhands and exclaiming loudly. “I’d best see what that’s about before Tuck gets himself shot,” Rachel said.

“You’d best let me go see about it,” Tiny said. “We’ve had trouble with that pair from the Double-D before.”

“No,” Rachel insisted. “You go over there and you’re liable to get yourself shot. They’re not gonna get rough with a woman. Go on back to the bar in case you need the shotgun. Sorry, Mr. Savage,” she apologized to Ben as she walked away.

“They ride for the Double-D Ranch,” Tiny felt a need to explain. “We don’t usually see any of their crew in here but once in a while. But it seems like every time we do, they cause trouble. Their usual hangout is the Golden Rail, down the street.”

Curious to see how the woman was going to quiet the disturbance before it became violent, Ben turned his chair partially around so he could watch. “What is the trouble back here, Tuck?” Rachel asked when she approached the table.

All eyes turned toward her. “These sidewinders are low-down cheaters!” the gnarly little man declared. “And they ain’t even good at it. That one,” he pointed at one of the cowhands, “is tryin’ to deal off the bottom of the deck, and I’ve caught him at it twice. Me and Ham were havin’ a friendly little game of two-handed poker and these two wanted to play. So we let ’em play. I reckon they was figurin’ on skinnin’ two old codgers.”

Rachel spoke directly to the man Tuck had accused. “Why don’t you and your friend move over to another table and we’ll give you a couple of drinks on the house.”

One of the cowhands, a large surly-looking bully, waited until Rachel finished before speaking. “I didn’t hear anybody ask you to put your two cents in, bitch. This ain’t none of your business, but if this redheaded little turd don’t set down and shut his mouth, I’m gonna shoot the snake down.”

“All right,” Rachel responded. “I think you and your friend have had enough to drink. I think it’s best if you leave now before anybody gets hurt.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere till I hear this little maggot tell me he’s a lyin’ piece of dirt,” the bully informed her. He crossed his arms and sat solidly in the chair. “If you wanna throw me outta here, sweetie-pants, you’re gonna have to pick me up and tote me ’cause I ain’t movin’ outta this chair.”

They were clearly at a standstill with the bully parked in the chair like a pouting child, daring anyone to try to move him. His partner, obviously enjoying the woman’s helpless situation, added to Rachel’s problems when he openly solicited her for a roll on a mattress upstairs. It was at this point that Ben figured he’d had enough of the bullying. Very quietly, he got up from his chair and walked up behind the bully’s chair. The other cowhand became alert and, with his hand resting on the handle of his handgun, he waited for Ben to make a move. But Ben didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached down and grasped the two back legs of the chair the bully was sitting in. Then in one swift, powerful motion, he jerked the chair out from under him, dumping him on the floor. Before the bully’s backside hit the floor, Ben threw the empty chair to land in his partner’s arms, causing him to stagger backward while trying to get out of his chair and pull his pistol at the same time. By the time he was free of the chair, he found himself staring at Ben’s six-gun, already out and aimed at him. “Go ahead, if you feel lucky,” Ben invited.

The cowhand hesitated for a moment before reconsidering. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Put that gun back in the holster and we’ll see who shoots who.”

“Do I look that damn stupid? I oughta go ahead and shoot you just to rid the world of another moron. Get on your feet and get on outta here.” He glanced at Tiny, standing wide-eyed and gaping. “Are they paid up? They owe anything?”

“No, they paid for the whiskey,” Tiny answered.

“All right, we’re goin’,” the surly-looking bully said and got up from the floor. He glared at Ben while he dusted his pants off. “Another time things might be a whole lot different,” he said.

“I expect you’d be the same loudmouth lookin’ for trouble and showin’ no respect for ladies,” Ben said. He kept his gun on them until he marched them out the door and stood in the door until they untied their horses and stepped up into the saddle.

“I’ll be seein’ ya,” the bully said.

“Not if I can help it,” Ben said and went back inside where Tuck and Ham were grilling Rachel and Tiny about the stranger. Ben was heading back to the table to finish his coffee and the one biscuit he was just getting ready to eat before he decided to get involved with Rachel’s predicament. Glancing at the gnome-like little man watching him, he saw Tuck’s eyes suddenly open wide. It was all the warning Ben needed.

“Look out!” Tuck yelled, but by then Ben had already spun around and fired. The cowhand bully dropped to his knees, his drawn pistol clattered to the floor, then he sank facedown, a bullet in his chest. Waiting only a few seconds to make sure he was dead, Ben ran back to the saloon door only to see the dead man’s partner race away up the street, leading the bully’s horse.

Frozen in a moment of amazement over what had just occurred, Rachel finally broke the silence that followed the gunshot. “I guess we’d best go get the sheriff, but he’ll probably be here in a few minutes, anyway, if he heard the shot.”

“I’ll go get him,” Ham volunteered and went out the door, being careful to step around the body lying in the way. He was gone for less than a minute before he came back in the door, Sheriff Mack Bragg right behind him.

The sheriff walked in and nodded to the stunned woman standing near the bar. “Rachel,” Bragg acknowledged, “you wanna tell me what happened here?” He never took his eyes off the formidable stranger standing in the center of the room.

“It was strictly self-defense, Mack,” Rachel said at once. “If Mr. Savage had not been alert, he would have been killed. Everyone here will tell you that.” She looked around at them, and they all nodded. She went on to tell the sheriff all the details that led up to the shooting. He seemed satisfied that it had all happened just as she said, so he turned to Ben.

“Well, I’m sorry you had to get your first look at our town in such a bad light, Mr....” He paused to recall the name.

“Ben Savage,” Ben quickly announced. “I’m sorry, as well. But I already had a good impression of your town before I met up with this fellow and his partner. I feel responsible for lettin’ him come back in here. He was on his horse and fixin’ to wheel away from the hitchin’ rail when I came back in here. I misjudged him. I shoulda watched him till he rode outta sight.”

“You just passin’ through Buzzard’s Bluff?” Bragg asked, immediately impressed after hearing the details of the shooting from Rachel.

“I was,” Ben answered, “but I might decide to stick around for a while. Seems like a nice town, and judgin’ by everyone’s reaction to that fellow, maybe things like this don’t happen as a rule.”

“We like to think so,” Bragg said. “What line of work are you in, Mr. Savage?”

Ben reached in his vest pocket and pulled out his star. “For the past twelve years, I’ve been a Texas Ranger.”

His announcement caused a minor explosion of exclamations. “By Ned, I knew it!” Tuck blurted. “When he turned and popped that sidedwinder, I knew it wasn’t the first time he’d handled a six-gun!”

The others had the same reaction. Tiny grinned at Rachel and shook his head as if to say they should have suspected. The sheriff was as surprised as anyone. “Are you here on some Ranger business that has something to do with Buzzard’s Bluff? Maybe I can help you out.”

“No, thanks just the same, but I’m not here on Ranger business.”

Bragg nodded. “You know something that’s kind of a coincidence? The fellow that used to own this saloon was a Ranger for years before he got into this line of work.”

“Same thing for the new owner,” Ben said. His statement was met with confused stares from them all. Having just made the decision moments before, he thought he’d better make it a little clearer. He glanced at Rachel. “Your new owner was a Texas Ranger, too, starting a couple of days ago.”

Still confused, Rachel tried to understand what he was saying. Then it suddenly struck her. Totally stunned then, both eyes and mouth opened wide as she tried to speak. “You don’t mean...” she started. He nodded. “Oh, my God!” she managed. “You’re the new owner?”

“I’m afraid so,” Ben answered. “I’ve got the papers to prove it.”

Amid the hooting and hollering, Rachel was trying to remember all that she had just told him and wondered if she would still have a place there. There were comments she had made about Jim Vickers and his lack of business sense that might come back to strike her. She looked at Annie, who was standing there grinning, and speculated on the chance she might work in the kitchen with her. “I guess you’ll want to go over some things in the office and catch up on things,” she suggested, lamely.

“I expect that would be a good idea. Maybe we’ll do that tonight sometime and get it over with,” Ben told her.

“Certainly, Mr. Savage.”

“First thing we’ll take care of is my name’s Ben and I don’t intend to call you Miss Baskin. Is that all right with you?”

“Of course,” she blushed. That was as far as they got for the moment, because there was the matter of a dead man lying in the front door. In the middle of it, Tuck Tucker and Ham Martin were eager to meet the new owner of the Lost Coyote. Bragg asked for a little help in relocating the cowhand’s body to the porch to await Merle Baker’s handcart, so Ben helped him carry the body outside.

Once that was done, the sheriff went to fetch Merle, who acted as the town’s undertaker. But before he walked away, he felt inspired to offer an opinion. “I ain’t about to tell you how to run your business, but for what it’s worth, Rachel Baskin is a fine woman, and she’s done a good job takin’ care of this saloon.”

“I ’preciate what you’re sayin’, Sheriff. That was my first impression of Rachel, as a matter of fact. I was just as surprised as everyone else here a couple days ago when I found out I owned this saloon. I rode a few years with Jim Vickers. He was the one who broke me in as a Ranger. And just like Jim, I ain’t got a grain of experience runnin’ a saloon, so it looks like Rachel’s got another greenhorn to break in.”

“I’m glad to hear you ain’t bringin’ in new people to replace the ones workin’ here now,” Bragg said. “And I hope you do well here in Buzzard’s Bluff.”

“’Preciate it, Sheriff,” Ben said and went back inside. When he walked in the door, the conversation at the end of the bar between Rachel, Annie, and Tiny stopped immediately. All three stared at him, waiting to see what instructions he might have for them. He was not insensitive to their concern, so he thought it best to set them at ease as soon as possible. Starting with Annie and Tiny, he asked them how long they had worked there in the saloon. Both had been on the payroll for more than two years. “I reckon if Jim thought you were doin’ a good job, then I do, too, so everything’s the same for you two.” He looked at Rachel then. “But not for you, Rachel. Let’s you and I go in the office and take a look at those books you mentioned before.”

She was not quick enough to hide the instant look of concern as she turned at once and led the way to the office, which was immediately behind the barroom. When she passed by Annie, the cheerful little woman touched her arm and said, “Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got a good feeling about this man.”

When she and Ben walked in the office door, she started to sit down at the desk, but thought better of it, and sat down at a straight-back chair against the wall instead. He paused in front of the desk and said, “Why don’t you go ahead and sit down at your regular place. I’ll pull this chair over by the desk.” When she did as he directed, he said, “Now, I’m wonderin’ if you can show me how much it costs to run this place—how much we take in and how much we pay out.”

“I can,” she replied and pulled a set of ledgers from one of the desk drawers. She showed him the balance sheet and pointed out her’s, Tiny’s, and Annie’s salaries, and showed him that the saloon was showing a profit every month. This was even after the owner’s share was taken out. He was impressed. When he had asked to see the books, he had actually expected to hear there were no books. “Well, that’s about it,” she said. “We’re gonna need a new shipment of whiskey in the next week or two, so some of that money will be needed to pay for that. That usually runs me about six hundred dollars. The kitchen pantry is well stocked, Annie keeps it that way, and there’s a little over nine hundred dollars in the safe. You wanna count it?”

He didn’t tell her that he had not the slightest idea what he was looking for, but he studied the ledgers intently, noticing expenditures generated by Jim Vickers’s personal expenses. He was looking to make sure expenses like costs for stabling his horses were included. When he had satisfied himself that the saloon would more than support his needs, he closed the ledgers and handed them back to Rachel. “I reckon that’ll do for now. I don’t need to count the money in the safe. In case you ain’t figured it out yet, but I expect you already have, I don’t know any more about runnin’ a place like this than Jim did when he started. So I want you to do the same job you’ve been doin’, but I don’t think your salary is right for your job. I think the fairest thing to do is to make you a partner in the business. Whaddaya say? Fifty-fifty, we’ll split the profits down the middle. Does that sound fair to you?”

She was struck speechless for a few moments. Jim Vickers had paid her a generous salary, but nowhere near the income she would enjoy as an equal partner. She could not imagine why he would give up half of the profits of a going business when there was no reason to do so. When she had still not replied after several more seconds, he suggested, “You’re good at things like this, so you could draw up a partnership agreement, if you like, and we’ll sign it. Take it to the bank and let them notarize it. Whaddaya say?”

Finally recovering her emotions, she answered him. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, of course I accept. I just didn’t expect you to be so generous.” Then she quickly sought to assure him. “I will do my best to make sure you don’t ever regret this. I’ll surely take care of your business for you.”

“Our business,” he corrected her. “I’d be very surprised if I’ve misjudged you.”

“I have to ask,” she insisted. “Why would you do this? I would work just as hard if you kept me on at my regular salary.”

“I figured you would, and that’s one of the reasons I wanted you as a partner. Look, I’m pretty much in the same boat Jim was. I ain’t as old as Jim was when he quit the Ranger service, but I don’t have any family, and I don’t need much money to live on. So why not pay the person who’s really operatin’ the saloon?”

When they returned to the saloon, they found Tiny and Annie waiting by the bar, anxious to try to read the expression on Rachel’s face. They relaxed their concern at once when they saw her beaming happily. Waiting with them were two women of uncertain age, but obvious occupation. Only then did it occur to the new owner that he had seen no trace of the soiled doves that are typically found in saloons. Whereas he was surprised to see them now, he told himself that, of course, the Lost Coyote had saloon gals, like every other saloon in the wild west. Sensing his surprise, Rachel said, “You were probably wondering where the girls were. I was wondering, myself.” She motioned for them to come over. “Meet the new owner of Lost Coyote Saloon, Ben Savage. Ben, this is Ruby and Clarice.” Addressing them directly, she asked, “Where were you two hiding while all the fuss was going on down here?”

Clarice, the larger of the two and obviously a little older, answered Rachel. “We were both stayin’ in our rooms as long as those two fellers from the Double-D were down here. Didn’t neither one of us wanna see those two animals again. Then Ruby came into my room when we heard the shot down here and we stayed there till we were sure everything was all right.”

Back to Ben then, Rachel said, “Clarice and Ruby sell a lot of whiskey for us. They keep a lot of customers coming back here, instead of going down the street to the Golden Rail.”

Both women looked at the imposing man who was their new boss, wondering if they were to be at his call whenever he needed company, and if it would be without compensation. “Pleased to meetcha, Ben,” Clarice managed.

“Me, too,” Ruby seconded.

“Ladies,” Ben returned the greetings. “Just to set things straight, I’m the new half-owner. Rachel’s now an equal partner.” Back to her, he said, “I reckon I might as well move in. Did Jim have a room here?”

“Yes,” she answered. “He had a room here behind the kitchen. He also kept a room at the hotel he’d sleep in. It was a little too noisy here in the saloon sometimes, so he would go to the hotel some nights. I think he liked to eat breakfast in the dining room there, too. Come on and I’ll show you his room. I guess it’s about time I showed you around the whole place, isn’t it?”

She led him through the kitchen, where Annie had finally gotten back to her cleanup. From the kitchen, Rachel led him through a door back to a long hallway that led to several rooms. The first two were storerooms for the kitchen. The last two were bedrooms. “Jim’s room is the last one before the outside door.”

“What’s the other one?” Ben asked.

“That’s my room,” she answered, waiting for a typical male remark, but there was none.

“That’ll be handy,” he said, causing her to change her mind back to her original thought. “I can bring the stuff off my packhorse right in the back door, there.” She hoped he didn’t notice her little flush of embarrassment. He walked past her room and tried the doorknob on his, but found it locked.

“Here, let me,” she said and stepped up to the door to unlock it. “When we go back to the office, I’ll get your key to the room and the key to the outside door. We usually keep that outside door locked.” When the door was unlocked, she pushed it wide and stepped back to let him enter. “Probably need to open a window and let it air out a little,” she suggested.

He walked in and went straight to the window to open it. “It’ll be all right in a little while. It’ll beat where I was plannin’ to sleep tonight, in the stable with my horses.” He looked around for a moment at the bare furnishings, primarily a bed and a dresser. “This’ll do,” he said. “What’s upstairs?”

“Bedrooms,” she answered. “Four of ’em, Clarice and Ruby have rooms up there, and Tiny lives in the last one.”

“Might as well have a look,” he decided, so they went upstairs and he took a quick look at the rooms, just so he would know the whole building. “What happened to the side of the porch out front?” he asked when they were back downstairs.

“Freighter let his mules get away from him when a couple of drunk cowboys started shooting up the town. The sheriff put ’em in jail, but not till after one of the mules killed itself when it tried to jump up on the porch.”

“Anybody in town do carpentry work?” Ben asked.

“Ham Greeley,” Rachel said. “That was him playing cards with Tuck and the two cowhands.”

“Maybe we oughta talk to him about fixin’ that porch. We don’t want strangers comin’ through town and goin’ to the Golden Rail for a drink ’cause they think the Lost Coyote looks run-down.”

She laughed. “I guess you’re right. We’ll talk to Ham.”

“Why do you call him Ham?” Ben wondered, thinking it to be a nickname and probably had a story behind it.

“’Cause that’s his name. He says his mama named him Hammer, hopin’ it would encourage him to wanna be a carpenter when he grew up, like his daddy.” She paused to let him think about that for a few seconds. “Well, you’ve seen the whole place, except the outhouses.”

He nodded and said, “I reckon I’ll wait on seein’ that till my insides tell me to go see it.” He started to walk toward the stairs but paused to ask one more question. “How’d Jim come to name this place the Lost Coyote?”

She smiled as she recalled. “When he started building the place, one morning a coyote came up from the creek. Just one coyote, and Jim said it was the mangiest coyote he’d ever seen. And it would just stand off about fifty yards and watch. It came back the second day and one of the men helping him build the saloon said it looked like it was lost. Jim hadn’t been able to decide on what to call the saloon, so he said that coyote was a sign and he called this the Lost Coyote.” She laughed when she remembered. “I asked him if he was sure he wasn’t supposed to call this place the Mangy Coyote, but he said Lost was the sign. He said that coyote came back every morning for the next four days and then they never saw it again.”