Ralph Compton Blood Duel

“By myself?” Seamus said. “A rip-snorter like him, I would need a posse, and the county is not about to foot the bill when he is probably halfway to California by now.”

“It is too bad about that gent from the Times,” Win said. “He sort of fancied himself. Did you know him?”

“Farnsworth? Knew him well,” Seamus said. Which was not entirely true. He had talked to the pompous ass every now and again, principally because Farnsworth spent a lot of his after hours at the Comique, and they shared a few drinks, but that was the extent of it.

“Being in the wrong place at the wrong time kills more men than smallpox,” Winifred commented.

Seamus drained his glass and set it down. The idle chat was already wearing thin. “I reckon I should get started.” The sooner he talked to everyone involved, the sooner he could head for Dodge. Maybe he could make it back by nightfall. A nice meal, his seat at the theater, and then a visit to Madame Blatsky’s would set the world right again. “Suppose you tell me what you saw.”

Winifred did more than that. He showed the lawman exactly where each of the Blights had been standing when they were shot and mimicked the positions of their bodies after they fell.

Seamus only interrupted once, to chuckle and say, “The bastard shot them from under the table?” He crouched and peered under the table in the corner. “Damned sneaky, that Frost.”

“You ever heard of anyone doing that before?” Win asked.

“No, I surely haven’t,” Seamus said. He had heard of men shot from behind trees and from behind boulders, and he had heard of men shot from rooftops and from horseback and from a moving stage, but he had never heard of anyone shot from under a table. Until now.

“It is probably just as well you are not going after him,” Winifred said. “He would only add to his tally.”

“I appreciate the confidence,” Seamus said dryly. “Now why don’t you show me the bodies.” It was a command, not a question.

“I would like to,” Win said, “but they are over to the livery and no one can see them without the mayor’s permission.”

Seamus tapped his badge. “This tin star gives me the right to do as I please. The county has jurisdiction, not Coffin Varnish.”

“I know, I know,” Win said. “But—”

Before he could finish, a door at the back opened and in sashayed Sally Worth. She had done herself up, brushed her hair, and put on her best dress. It was faded but accented the swell of her bosom and her hips. Brazenly, she came up to Glickman, hooked her arm in his, and curled her red lips in a seductive smile. “I thought I heard a new voice down here.” She introduced herself. “I don’t believe we have ever met.”

“No, we haven’t,” Seamus said. He never forgot a whore. He was particular about those he slept with, and never in a million years would he sleep with one as old as this one. Although he had to admit she had a nice body.

“Care to buy a working girl a drink?”

“I am on official business, Miss Worth,” Seamus said. “In fact, I am just on my way to talk to your mayor. Luce, isn’t that his name?”

“Chester Luce,” Sally amended. “But he is not the one who runs Coffin Varnish. Not really.”

“Sally,” Win said.

“Then who is?” Seamus asked.

“Chester’s wife, Adolphina. He never does a thing without her say-so. It was her idea to have the bodies taken to the livery and—”

“Sally,” Win said sharply.

“What?”

“It will be better if Chester tells him. Let them hash it out officially,” Winifred advised.

Seamus was confused. “Hash what out? What the hell are you talking about? I just want to get this over with and get back to Dodge.”

“Visit the general store,” Win urged. “His Honor will fill you in.”

Sally touched Seamus’s cheek. “And when you are done, come on back so we can get acquainted. I will make your ride here worthwhile.”

Seamus inwardly shuddered. He would have to be booze blind to let a dove her age lure him under the sheets. The gray streaks in her hair, all those wrinkles, and, he noticed, a few teeth missing. “I will give it serious consideration, madam,” he assured her.

“You do that.” Sally beamed.

Seamus was glad to get out of there. Swirls of dust rose from under his boots as he crossed the street. Two Mexicans were in front of the livery, watching him. Two boys were out in front of the cottage, equally curious. Seamus smiled and waved. He couldn’t say why, since he did not give a good damn about any of them.

The general store had not changed, either. Seamus bought tobacco on his last visit. It cost him fifty cents more than it would in Dodge. He started down an aisle, ignoring the items for sale.

The Luces were waiting for him behind the counter. Chester smiled somewhat nervously and held out his pudgy hand. “Undersheriff Glickman. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

Seamus was staring at the wife. She was big enough to wrestle a bear, and win. In fact, except for her pale skin, she resembled more than anything a she-bear in a dress.