Ralph Compton Blood Duel

The third female was the Italian’s wife, Gemma. The Italian was Minimi Giorgio, a native of Naples. They had two sons, seven-year-old Angelo and twelve-year-old Matteo. They lived in a cottage at the north end of the street. A real cottage, not a cabin or a shack, built by Minimi. Like nearly everyone else in Coffin Varnish, they tended to keep to themselves. No one knew much about them. They were secretive about their past and, it was noticed, wary of strangers. Every now and again a letter arrived from Italy, and for days afterward Minimi and Gemma would walk around with sad faces.

That left the Swede. Dolph Anderson and his wife, Filippa, wrested a living from a one-hundred-and-sixty-acre farm. They had a big white frame house and a big red barn and a chicken coop and pigs and a team of horses for plowing and four cows, and without a doubt were Coffin Varnish’s most prosperous citizens. They were also its most industrious. The big Swede worked from dawn until dusk six days a week. On the seventh day they observed the Sabbath. A stream bordered their property, and thanks to the irrigation ditches the Swede had dug and maintained, he grew corn and wheat and barley and had a small orchard. He sold his surplus in Dodge City—much to Chester’s annoyance.

The Andersons did not come into town all that often. Adolphina blamed it on uppity Swedish airs. Chester was of the opinion they were kind, gentle folk who simply could not take much time away from their daily toil, but he did not offer his opinion to Adolphina. She generally disliked opinions that were not her own.

Twelve people. The total population. All that remained of the four score who once called Coffin Varnish home.

The dust from the departures of Jeeter Frost and Frank Lafferty had not yet settled when Chester and Win came out of the saloon. Lafferty had galloped south toward Dodge. Frost had ridden west toward God knew where. The bodies, and the blood, had to be dealt with, and Chester and Win were arguing over whether Chester should help clean up the mess when the Giorgio family came from their cottage and Placido and Arturo hurried from their livery, all with worried expressions. Gunfire in Coffin Varnish was unheard of.

“Everything is all right, folks,” Chester cheerily assured them. “There has been an incident but it is over.”

Minimi Giorgio, at a nudge from his wife, came closer. “Per favore, signore. Non capisco. Che cos’e quello? Incidente?”

“Damn it, Mini,” Chester testily responded. “I have just been through hell and you stand there chirping at me. How many times have I told you to speak American or don’t speak at all?”

“I am sorry, signore,” Giorgio said politely. “I always forget. But what is this incident you make mention of?”

Win answered him. “In this case four men have been shot dead.”

“Four men killed in your saloon?” Giorgio blanched and translated for his wife, who also blanched and wrapped her arms around their two boys and hugged them as if in fear of their being shot.

“Tell your woman there is nothing for her to fret about,” Chester said. “The killer is gone, leaving us the mess to clean up.”

“We will have a lot of explaining to do when the sheriff gets here,” Win commented.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Chester said. “He is bound to come once he hears about it.”

“Him, or a deputy.”

At the juncture the door to the general store opened and out lumbered the mayor’s distaff half. Adolphina plowed across the street as a ship might plow through a sea, her dress billowing like a sail, her moon face set in a scowl. “What is all the ruckus?” she demanded. “I was napping and could swear I heard gunshots.”

“You did, heart of my heart,” Chester said. “There has been a shooting.”

“What? Where?”

“Here.”

“In Coffin Varnish?”

“In the saloon,” Winifred clarified.

“Was anyone hurt?”

Chester enlightened her. “Four men were shot to death. Three nobodies and a newspaperman from that city south of us.”

“Dear God in heaven.” Adolphina barged past them to the batwings and nearly collided with Sally Worth, who was coming out. Adolphina’s scowl deepened. Sniffing, she said, “Well, are you just going to stand there blocking the doorway or let a lady pass?”

“I am so sorry,” Sally Worth said. “Here. Let me hold these open for you.” She pushed the batwings wide. “Is that enough room or would you like me to knock out the wall?”

Adolphina hissed and stalked on in.

“You should be nicer to her,” Win said to the dove.