Blood on Mcallister (11 page)

He stayed there an hour before he returned to the saloon to find Rosa eating breakfast with three of her hired men in the kitchen. He felt a new man, at peace with himself and with the world. Pulling up a chair, he had a man-size steak put in front of him and set to with a will. In his opinion no man ever won anything on an empty belly. He washed down the food with a half-dozen cups of coffee and was then ready for anything.

One of the men said: ‘We've got our money on you, Rem. You goin' to win?'

McAllister grinned and said: ‘I can only say I've got my money on myself.'

Rosa was quiet this morning. When they went up to her room together, she turned to him and said: ‘I know there is nothing I can say to stop you going in for this contest. But nothing can make me like your doing it. I saw your side last night.'

He knew that she was right. He may have beaten Billy Gage in Abbotsville and out-run him on the prairie, but that had been before this wound had turned sour on him. Even if he had been uninjured, Gage would have been a formidable opponent. The man was a first-class all-round athlete, that McAllister didn't doubt. If McAllister beat him, he would be lucky.

‘I have to do it, honey,' he said. ‘I'm a damn fool, but that's the way I'm made.'

‘I wouldn't have you made any other way,' she told him. ‘That's why I love you.'

‘You said it,' he murmured and they came into each other's arms.

Mart Krantz found his way up. He said the town was humming. He hadn't known there were so many people in the country. How was McAllister feeling? Did he want to go through with this thing? The answer to that was obvious. He either went through with it or he sneaked out of town with his tail between his legs.

‘Billy Gage and Harry Shultz ain't showed up yet. Maybe Billy got cold feet, eh?' It was a nice thought, but McAllister didn't think it was true. ‘Are you sure you know what you
have to do in this contest, Rem?'

‘Run and fight mostly.'

Mart sighed.

‘There's a five-mile run. There's a standing jump.'

‘The run don't frighten me none. What's a standin' jump?'

‘You jump from the spot. No run. You have to see how high you can go.'

‘Sounds terrible.'

‘You mean you ain't practised it?'

‘To hell with practice. What else?'

‘There's fist fightin' and wrestlin' and weight putting.'

‘Weight putting? I didn't know nothin' about that.'

‘There's a rock as big as your head. You have to see how far you can throw it.' McAllister didn't like the sound of that, not with his side as it was, but he reckoned he'd have to go through with it.

Rosa said: ‘Rem, I wish you wouldn't do it.'

McAllister said: ‘That makes two of us.' He went to the window and looked out and saw that the whole world seemed to be out there. And they'd all be betting money on him. Somebody caught sight of him at the window and a shout went up. He waved down to them, grinning with a confidence that was starting to leave him.

Mart was saying: ‘I'm worried Billy Gage isn't here. If anything goes wrong now …'

McAlister thought:
If Billy don't turn up now, that suits me fine.

Harry Shultz held the lines, letting the horses make their own pace. The trail was bumpy and threw the manager and his athlete together every few moments. Billy was getting worried.

‘Harry,' he said,

‘we'll never make it.' ‘We'll make it,' his manager said.

As if he hadn't spoken, Billy went on: ‘I was never late for a contest in my life.' He took out the giant silver hunter he had bought second-hand when he first began to make money, snapped it open and looked at the time. Then Shultz did a curious thing. He halted the rig and took a cigar from his pocket.

‘What're you doing?' Billy cried.

‘Taking my time,' Shultz said and fired his cigar.

Billy said: ‘Harry, you pick up them reins——'

‘Let ‘em sweat, Billy boy,' Shultz said calmly. ‘You an' me're going to talk.'

‘Talk! We don't have time for talk.'

‘This is the most important talk you ever had in your life,' Shultz told him. ‘We're going to discuss your future.'

‘But not now, Harry.'

‘Now.'

‘Oh, all right. Get on with it and then make these horses travel.'

Shultz leaned back in the seat. He looked very calm and very mean. For the first time, Billy suspected that Harry wasn't quite such a nice man that he had thought him. There was no friendship in the eyes that watched him closely, even though the great gash of a mouth smiled.

‘Billy,' Shultz said, ‘have I ever guided you wrong?'

‘No, I can't say you have. Why I owe you everything, Harry.'

‘I'm glad you said that, Billy. Thought you might have forgot.'

‘Forget? Am I likely to ever forget?'

‘Good. Can't say how glad I am to hear you say that, boy. I think you'd agree that whatever I've done, whatever I've planned has been for your own good. I have your interests at heart. You could say that purpose is my life. I have dedicated myself to making you the first great all-rounder. You don't think we're going to work these hick towns for the rest of our lives, do you? Why, the whole world's open to us. We could make San Francisco, big cities, even Europe. Your fame's spreading. We play our cards right and we could both end up rich men. Your skill and strength plus
my brains and there ain't no teling where we could get.'

‘Yes, Harry,' Billy said, ‘all you say's right. I ain't denying it, but this ain't the time to talk about it.'

‘This is just the right time to talk about it,' Shultz insisted. ‘We've reached a cross-roads right now. At this moment, we have to reach a decision. We can't win ‘em all, Billy.'

Billy looked slightly shocked.

‘You mean you think McAllister could beat me?'

Shultz looked at him in disgust. ‘He beat you at Abbotsville, didn't he?'

‘A man can lose once in a while,' Billy said.

Shultz snarled ‘Once is too often when I got money on him. I ain't takin' any more risks like I took at Abbotsville. No, boy, McAllister's too good for you. He's goin' to beat you.'

‘He just ain't, Harry. I swear. I got his style now. I got him taped and no mistake. Maybe he can put-run me, but fightin', I'll win. I only have to win three of the contests.'

‘No,' Shultz said. ‘I can't afford to take the risk. My money goes on McAllister.'

Harry looked horrified. ‘You mean you'd back him? Harry, ain't I your fighter?'

‘Sure you are, kid. That's why I'm tellin' you you're goin' to lose.'

‘But I ain't.' Then Billy went silent as the truth came to him.
Harry wanted him to lose the fight.
He drew in his breath, looking at his manager in a kind of horrified wonder. ‘I never threw a fight in my life.'

‘Christ—how many fights did you ever have? Huh? An' what kind of a Goddam livin' was you makin' before I come along? Huh? Tell me that, kiddo.'

Billy said firmly: ‘I ain't doin' it. I'm goin' to beat McAllister.'

Shultz made an impatient sound.

He put a hand inside his coat and drew out a pocket Colt.

‘You see this? I'm goin' to use this on you, boy, if you don't lose. There it is, straight. Think it over.'

Billy picked up the lines and slapped the horses. They moved on. He cracked the whip and laid it across their backs. They broke into a run so violently that Shultz hastily put
the gun away and held on with both hands. Billy yelled: ‘To hell with you, Shultz. You're a no-good punk and you always was. I don't know why I didn't see it before. You waylaid McAllister in the hotel in Abbotsville and he thinks it was me helped you. You're no damn good and I'm through after today. You can take your money off McAllister and put it on me.'

He used the whip again and the frightened Shultz hung on as the light vehicle rocked and bucked over the rough trail. Neither spoke a word till they drew up in a cloud of dust in the yard of the livery. Billy Gage jumped down and went to say something angrily to Shultz, but the manager spoke first. His voice was quiet and terse now, trembling with controlled anger.

‘I'll kill you, kid, if you cross me,' he said.

Billy stared at him for a moment, turned on his heel and walked out onto the street.

The liveryman hobbled forward, eagerly.

‘That the young feller goin' to fight McAllister?'

‘Sure.'

‘Is he goin' to win?'

‘Put your money on him, partner. You can't lose.'

Shultz threw the man the lines and walked slowly after the champion. The streets were full of people. He never thought to see so many people in a cow-town. All hicks, he thought with derision, all suckers. He asked around, trying to find where Brenell was. Finally, he located him at a hotel and went up to his room. Here he found the cattle king talking with another man.

Brenell looked startled as he entered the room. Getting to his feet, he demanded: ‘What in hell're you doin' here?'

‘Who's this?' Shultz demanded looking at the other man.

‘My foreman.'

‘I walk to talk to you private.'

‘Why?'

‘That's private too.'

Brenell hesitated, then made up his mind and said: ‘I'll see you later, Cal.' The cowman left the room and as soon as the door was closed behind him, Brenell said: ‘I'll say it again—what the hell're you doin' here?'

‘The name's Harry Shultz this time,
Brenell,
an' I'm the
manager of the champion, Billy Gage.'

‘Changed your mode of livin', eh? How'd you trace me?'

‘Heard your name by accident over to Abbotsville. Like old times, Carl. You an' me. I heard you was the big man around here.'

‘It's no good you startin' the old game,' Brenell said. ‘I'm too big to pull down now. An' remember, I have as much on you as you have on me.'

‘But you have somethin' to lose now.'

‘You're right. An' I have power too. Wait.' He fell into a deep reverie, staring at the crowds on the street from the window. Finally, he turned slowly and said: ‘Maybe it's a good thing you came after all.'

‘How's that?'

‘We're pretty near a range war in these parts. The little men're keepin' me from water. I have all the high range, but it's drier than hell. Now they've imported a gunman to fight me. An' they mean business. Only yesterday, this feller shot down my son.'

Shultz looked interested and asked: ‘Who is he?'

‘McAllister.'

Shultz showed surprise. ‘You mean——'

‘The man your feller's up against.'

‘Is he a gunman?'

‘The best. The son of old Chad McAllister.'

‘Who's he when he's at home?'

‘An Easterner like you wouldn't know.'

Shultz saw it coming a mile off. He could smell death like an old hound. He had dealt in it for so long before he had found the soft life with Billy Gage. That was when he had first met up with Carl Brenell over in Missouri before the war. In the same state he had served with him in the Northern army. And they had both fought the war in the same way. Blood had meant much the same to them both in those days. Only Brenell had changed. He had a taste for the finer things in life now.

‘Why don't you kill him?' he asked, his voice dropping like a stone in the silence of the room.

‘I've known men try and fail.'

‘By God, you're scared of him.'

‘I pay for that kind of work now.'

Shultz thought it over. He knew an offer when he heard one.

‘How much you payin'?'

Brenell looked at him. They were men who understood each other.

‘A hundred.'

‘Don't make me laugh. That's cigar money to you now.' They argued, gently, like professionals who had done it many times before, occasionally allowing small flashes of false anger to show. They went on till both knew that the other wouldn't budge. They concluded the haggling at three hundred dollars.

Shultz said: ‘What's the law like around here?'

‘He straddles the fence. But he's good and he can shoot.'

Shultz smiled.

‘I'll do the job
after
the contest. Half payment now and half when it's done.'

Brenell counted out the money. Shultz didn't waste any more time, but walked out of the room. He grinned to himself as he descended the stairs—there was going to be considerable shooting in town if Gage crossed him. But Gage didn't trouble him. McAllister did. He didn't like men with reputations; that meant they had luck and Shultz was a man who believed in luck. He walked out of the hotel, shouldered his way into the crowd and headed for the contest ground. A flutter of worry went through him … supposing Gage
did
win … That would cost him. He'd have to put another scare into him.

He reached the contest ground on the edge of town. Some rough stands had been constructed here. The place was crowded with people, some standing, some sitting on the ground, some on the stands or up on wagons for a better view. It was a great crowd and he wished he could charge them for admission. The first man he recognised was McAllister. He was on the far side of a roped-off open space and he was talking to an exceptionally beautiful woman. The man looked grave and calm.

His eyes searched the surrounding crowd and finally he found his man Moose. Their eyes met briefly, but they made no further sign of recognition. The big man was some twenty
feet to his right, watching the scene with his deceptive benignity. Shultz decided then and there that when his work was done here, he would take Moose on to California and work him there. He could take on all-comers at wrestling. He'd heard the Cornish miners out there were dab hands at wrestling. Pity the big man didn't have the speed and all-round ability of Billy Gage.