“Let’s go find those other boys,” Pike said gruffly, stepping off into the darkness.
Ten minutes later they were standing on each side of the open doorway of McCorkle’s saloon. “You were right, Emil,” Pike said. “Saves us from huntin’ through the town for ‘em.”
“So what do we do?”
“Go in and invite them to leave Franks’s employ.”
“Or die.”
“And you’d just go and shoot ‘em down where they stand?”
“Yep.”
“Who gave you the right to make that judgment?”
Pike looked at him with cold, hard eyes. “I gave me that right. The moment those men took over Maggie’s ranch and began to bully the folks here—includin’ humiliatin’ you—they lost any right to being treated in a civil manner.”
“But how do you know that …”
“It doesn’t matter that they might not been there when Franks took over the ranch. They’re part of Franks’s gang and don’t deserve any consideration.” He saw the indecisiveness in Hastings’s stance and grabbed the former lawman by the shoulder and dragged him away from the light spilling out of the saloon. “You have to make up your mind, Emil. Here and now. Are you with me or not?”
When Hastings hesitated, Pike snapped, “Get out of here, Emil. Go home, go wander the mountains, go crawl back into the bottle. I don’t care. Just get out of my way.”
“But I …”
“There’s no buts, boy. I can’t rely on a man who’s indecisive. I need a partner who won’t hesitate even an instant in doin’ what needs doin’. That’ll get both of us killed and won’t do a damn thing to help Maggie. These men are evil. That’s all you need to know. They will not hesitate even a heartbeat to kill you. If you hesitate even that heartbeat, you’ll be dead.” He paused and clapped a hand on Hastings’s shoulder. “I said it before, Emil, you’re a decent man, and decent men generally ain’t called upon to do what needs doin’ here. There’s no shame in ridin’ off. This ain’t your kind of business. Just go off somewhere and be close enough to take care of Maggie when those boys are done for.”
“You can’t face all those men alone,” Hastings said, aghast.
“Yes, I can. I’ve faced worse odds and worse men. I’ll be fine, but you gotta go. I can’t be worryin’ about whether you’ll back my play or hesitate at the wrong moment. That could be fatal to me, and I ain’t hankerin’ to go to my reward just yet.”
“I …” The ex-lawman shut his trap. With head hanging, he began to shuffle off, but stopped at Pike’s words, though he did not turn.
“You’d be best if you don’t go back down the whiskey trail. Maggie’ll need you. And she’ll want a decent man, not some hard-edged man hunter.”
Hastings began shuffling off again. Pike watched for a few moments, hoping that Hastings would find himself. Then he turned and headed back to the saloon door; he could not afford to worry about Emil Hastings now.
Pike rested one hand on a batwing door in preparation of opening it as he drew a Colt. Then he left the revolver where it was. He shook his head in annoyance. While he was generally not a man inclined to shoot others, even outlaws, in the back, he was not one to do so with impunity either. But in deference to Hastings’s concerns, he decided to give these two a chance, as risky to himself as that might be. He pushed past the doors into the saloon.
It was an unprepossessing place: a few small tables scattered around the log building; a real, though small, bar was off to one side; and behind that was a short plank resting on two barrels holding a selection of whiskey bottles that the bounty hunter figured were all filled with the same rotgut. The two men Pike wanted were standing at the bar, and about ten men were sitting at the tables. Everyone looked at Pike when he entered. He scanned the room quicky and decided there was no danger from anyone but the two outlaws. He strolled over to the bar, and many of the patrons began inching toward the door.
Pike ordered a whiskey. When it was placed on the bar in front of him, he turned to the men and asked, “How about I buy you boys a drink?”
The two looked at him and laughed. “Now why in hell would you buy us a drink, mister?” the one with a blue shirt countered.
“Maybe he thinks we’ll let him join our organization if he buys us a drink,” the other one, wearing a green shirt said.
“Nah. He might be wearin’ that fancy gun rig, but I reckon he’s scared and is hopin’ that if he buys us a drink or two that we’ll not bother him. So, what is it, mister?”
“Your organization?” Pike said with a chuckle. “You couldn’t organize a poker game between you and your brainless pal there.” He grinned insolently.
“Now, we’ve been real friendly so far,” Blue Shirt said. “But we’re losin’ patience. Now go on your way like a good boy. We don’t need to be takin’ drinks from the likes of you.”
“Hey, why’d you offer to do that anyway?” Green Shirt asked.
“Wanted you to have a farewell drink on me.”
”Farewell?” Blue Shirt asked, looking at his companion in question.
“Yep. You see, you have two choices: You either drop those gun belts and ride on our of Nederland in any direction but toward the ranch.”
“What ranch?” Green Shirt asked with a snort.
Pike cast a gimlet eye on him.
“Well, us moseyin’ on because the likes of you is askin’ ain’t likely, but I was wonderin’, what’s our other choice.” Blue Shirt was trying to hold in his laughter.
“You die, here and now.”
The two outlaws could no longer constrain laughter.
“We’re gonna die?” Blue Shirt said around guffaws. “Here and now?”
“It’s what I said, boys, and it’s what I meant.” His face hardened. “Now, since you boys don’t feel the need for a last drink, make your choice.”
“You insufferable son of a bitch,” Blue Shirt snapped as he reached for the six-gun at his side.
With his left hand, Pike snapped the whiskey glass up and dashed the liquid into Blue Shirt‘s face, giving the man momentary pause. With his right, he ripped out a Colt and blasted the outlaw. As Blue Shirt was falling, the bounty hunter blasted Green Shirt, who had barely managed to get his pistol out of his holster.
Both men fell, Green Shirt dead, Blue Short not quite. He shakily tried to draw his pistol, but Pike shot him in the forehead.
there was a gunshot from behind him, and Pike dropped to one knee and spun. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the bartender crashing back onto the plank, sending bottle crashing to the floor. As he brought his Colt up, looking for whoever had fired the shot, he spotted Hastings, smoking pistol in hand.
“Emil?” Pike asked surprised and still wary.
“None other,” the newly returned lawman said, sliding his own Colt away.
Pike rose and did the same. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Savin’ your bacon. That bartender was about to plug you.” He sounded a little shaky.
“Why?”
“Because he was going to kill you, dammit.”
“No, why did you come back?”
“I just couldn’t bear the thought of you considerin’ me a coward,” he said shakily.
“I didn’t …”
“Go in and invite them to leave Conroy’s employ. Permanently.”
“Donkey droppin’s.” He was settling down a little. “I didn’t get far, so I figured to come back and see if you needed help.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Funny thing is, I didn’t figure you’d need any. I figured you were just gonna shoot those boys down from the doorway.”
“I considered it, but the thought of what a decent man—one who just got his tin star back—would say if I did that, and, well, I gave those boys a chance.”
“Who …?” Hastings paused. “You mean me?”
Pike nodded once, then turned to face the men who remained in the saloon. “Any of you boys gonna miss these two gents?” When he got no affirmatives, he said, “Go fetch whoever’s actin’ as undertaker these days and have him haul these bodies off. He can use whatever money they have on ‘em to pay for it; the rest of you can share what’s left.”
Two men ran out while the others began rooting through the dead men’s possessions looking for money.