Texas Bluff Read online

  “Well, we appreciate it, Sheriff,” Butler said. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “You’re a real operator, aintcha?”

  “Sorry?”

  “You already got yerself situated here at the top gambling house in town,” Courtrwright said. “Now, how’d you do that?”

  Butler smiled and said, “Charm, Sheriff, pure charm.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Sutherland had no qualms about bushwacking Butler. The fact was, shooting him in the back was the most efficient way of getting rid of him. It would be quick and easy and—he’d get away with it. That was the most important part of the plan.

  Now, when it came to killing Luke Short, he would do that one face-to-face. That was the killing where there was a reputation involved. Killing Butler face-to-face would do nothing for his reputation, and it would be taking an unnecessary risk.

  That was the reason Sutherland was on the roof of a building across the street from the White Elephant Saloon, with a rifle. From his vantage point he could see both the saloon and Butler’s hotel. He was a patient man. He had some beef jerky, a canteen of water, and he could simply piss on the roof if he had to. For anything else he’d just clench his butt cheeks for as long as it took.

  And he didn’t have to supply a body in order to collect the price on Butler’s head. All he had to do was send a telegram, and wait. Once the kill was confirmed, he’d get his money. Whoever the man was who had put the bounty on Butler’s head, he had taken every precaution to make sure he was never tied to it, and that the payment would be made.

  Sutherland sighted down the barrel of his rifle, picked out a practice target and pretended to pull the trigger. The practice target’s head exploded. Sutherland was almost as good with a rifle as he was with a handgun. Taking Luke Short face-to-face with a pistol was going to elevate him to legend status. Taking Butler with a rifle was going to put him on easy street. He had known for years that both of those conditions were in his future. All he had to do was align himself with the right people, and wait.

  Ed Cramer was a nobody, the owner of a few pigsty gambling halls he thought made him a businessman and gentleman-gambler. But although he was a nobody, he had led Sutherland to both Butler and Short. And when both of those men were dead and gone, well he’d have no further need of Mr. Cramer.

  Would he?

  Ed Cramer was waiting for the word from Sutherland that Butler had been taken care of. This man Butler was an unnecessary interruption in Cramer’s plan to get rid of Luke Short and, eventually, become the top gambling entrepreneur in Fort Worth, Texas. He’d had Bill Ward and the White Elephant in his sights before Short came along. Once the little dandy was gone, he’d go to work on Ward again, become his partner, then kill him and take over.

  But Ed Cramer didn’t do his own killing. That was what he had Sutherland for. To kill Butler, Luke Short, and then, eventually, Bill Ward. And after all the killing was done, Cramer wouldn’t need the man anymore, and he’d finally get around to doing his own killing—one killing—himself.

  The more Luke Short thought about it, the more convinced he was he should have killed Ed Cramer a long time ago.

  Oh, not the day he’d shoved his gun into Cramer’s mouth. Much as he would have liked to, there were just too many witnesses that day. That was just fun. No, there had been other times in the past when he might have done it. Maybe, when a time like that came again, he’d seize it and get the man out of his hair.

  As he came down the stairs from the casino he saw Butler finishing up his conversation with Jim Courtwright. There was another man he was going to have to kill in the future. He knew it.

  As Butler made his way through the room he intercepted him.

  “What’d Courtwright want?” he asked.

  “He wanted to welcome me to town—”

  “That lying sonofa—”

  “—and I think he was telling me that he hoped we’d all kill each other.”

  “All?”

  “Us evil gamblers.”

  “Ah, that sounds more like him.”

  “What’s his beef with gamblers?” Butler asked.

  “Don’t know,” Short said. “Maybe he wants to be one but just can’t do it. Maybe he’s got religion. Whatever it is, I want him to keep it away from me. I’ve got enough problems.”

  “Luke, I want to get something to eat outside of here,” Butler said. “You mind?”

  “No, go ahead,” Short said. “Just remember how quiet it’s been, and be careful.”

  “I’m always careful.”

  Butler headed for the door.

  CHAPTER 23

  When Butler walked through the batwing doors of the White Elephant, Sutherland was ready with his rifle. Butler was in the clear and Sutherland prepared to take his killing shot.

  Butler came out the doors, looked both ways, and then headed down the street, away from his hotel and away from the White Elephant.

  As Butler went out, Victor glanced through the window. There was just enough sun left for it to glint off something metal on the roof across the street. Victor looked again, saw the man with the rifle and ran for the front doors.

  As Victor came out the door shouting, Butler turned quickly. Victor was pointing at something across the street, and then the first shot came. It shattered a window behind Butler as he fell to the ground.

  The second shot killed Victor instantly.

  Butler dropped as Sutherland shot, causing him to miss and break the window behind Butler. It was that other man’s fault—and Sutherland took a bead on him, shooting him through the head. He didn’t waste any more shots, just took his rifle and canteen and got out of there.

  Luke Short heard the shot, and then the shattering of glass. Customers heard it, too, but they didn’t move. The last thing they wanted to do was run outside in the middle of a firefight.

  Short, on the other hand, palmed his pistol and ran for the door. As he got outside he almost tripped over Victor’s body.

  “Damn it!” he swore.

  Butler got to his feet and rushed to Victor just as Short came out the door.

  “Who’d want to kill Victor?” Short asked.

  “He wasn’t the target,” Butler said. “I was. Victor came out shouting and saved my life. The first shot missed me, and the second got him.”

  “From where?”

  “Across the street, on the roof,” Butler said. “I’m sure the shooter is gone now, but I’m going to take a look, anyway.”

  Finally, someone else came outside. It was Jerry, the bartender.

  “Take care of him,” Short said. “We’ll be back.”

  “What do I tell the law, boss?” Jerry asked.

  “Forget it,” Short shouted back as he ran across the street after Butler, “the law will never show up.”

  Up on the roof, Short and Butler looked down at the front of the White Elephant.

  “Clear shot,” Short said, “and a clear view of both your hotel and the saloon. Looks like Cramer’s man fired the first shot.”

  “Not necessarily,” Butler said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you about me, Luke,” Butler said.

  “You want to share it now?”

  Butler nodded, then told Luke Short about the private bounty on his head.

  “And you think that’s what this was?”

  “One of two things: Cramer, or somebody looking for that bounty.”

  “Or both,” Short said. “We know Cramer was going to have you checked out. If someone checked you out real good, Butler, would they come up with that bounty?”

  “Probably.”

  “Then this could be both,” Short said. “Whoever Cramer sent after you would not only do the job his boss wanted but collect that bounty, as well.”

  “Still can’t help thinking I got poor Victor killed,” Butler said.

  “The blame for that goes to the shooter, my friend,” Short said, slapping Butle
r on the shoulder, “not the intended victim.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Short and Butler walked the length and width of the roof. The only place they found anything was right in front. Scuff marks, a place where a couple of knees had probably spent some time.

  “I haven’t been on the trail in a while,” Short said, “but it looks to me like somebody spent some time here, waiting.”

  “What are those spots?” Butler asked, pointing.

  “Urine,” Short said. “That’s why I say he was here a while.” He bent over, looked at something but didn’t touch it. “Here are a couple of pieces of chewed jerky.”

  “Somebody really put time into this,” Butler said.

  “And they’re not going to be happy they missed you and got the wrong man.”

  “They’ll try again.”

  “Let’s get downstairs, and get you inside,” Short said. “Whatever is going on, looks like you’re the first target.”

  As Short had predicted Long-haired Jim Courtwright did not appear. As far as the lawman was concerned, a dead gambler was a good gambler—and that went for people like Victor, who worked for gamblers.

  When they got inside they saw that Jerry had gotten help carrying Victor inside.

  “Take him to the office,” Short said. “We’ll have the undertaker pick him up.”

  “Walk right through the place with him, Luke?” Jerry asked. “It’s real busy.”

  “Who are you kiddin’, Jerry,” Luke said. “Half of these men won’t even notice you.”

  Jerry signaled the men he’d recruit and together they picked Victor up and carried him to the office. They passed Bill Ward along the way.

  “What the hell happened?” he demanded. He was looking at the shattered window.

  “Somebody tried to kill Butler,” Short said.

  “Victor warned me, and got killed for it.”

  “And the window?”

  “The bullet meant for me missed and shattered the window,” Butler said. “But I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  Ward looked properly chastised.

  “I’m sorry Butler,” he said. “Of course I’m glad you’re all right, and I’m sorry Victor’s dead.”

  “We’ll get somebody to fix the window, Bill,” Short said. “Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not—”

  “What about Victor’s family?” Butler asked. “Somebody is going to have to tell them.”

  “He didn’t have any,” Short said. “This place is the closest thing he had to a home.”

  “Look,” Ward said, “I didn’t mean—”

  “We’ll be paying for his funeral,” Short said, “right, Bill?”

  “Yes, of course we will.”

  Jerry reappeared at that moment.

  “Send somebody for the undertaker,” Short told him, “and get somebody to board that window up until we can get it fixed.”

  “Okay, boss.”

  Short turned to Butler.

  “You take your meals inside from now on,” Short said. “Also, I’ll give you a room upstairs.”

  “I’ve got a hotel—”

  “I don’t care,” Short said. “If they want us, next time I want them to have to come in.”

  “Okay, Luke.”

  “I’ll go with you now to get your gear.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter, Luke,” Butler said. “The shooter’s gone for now. I’ll agree with you wanting me to stay here, but I think I’m safe picking up my things by myself.”

  “Okay, fine, Short said, “but if you get killed this time it’s on your head.”

  “Should we send for the sheriff?” Ward asked.

  “That’s a laugh,” Short said.

  “Why?”

  “I’m sure the sheriff has heard all about this by now, Bill,” Butler said. “He’s hoping one of us is the corpse.”

  “He’s in for a disappointment, then,” Short said. “Look, go and get your things before they get a chance to set up again.”

  “Okay, I’m going,” Butler said, “but you’ve got to do something for me if I stay here.”

  “What’s that?” Short asked.

  “Get me a game.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Butler moved his belongings into a room on the second floor of the White Elephant, behind the casino. Luke Short and his wife lived in an apartment down the hall, but she was away and had been since his arrival. It was just as well. Short didn’t need to worry about her during the days to come. At least she was safe.

  Short led Butler into his rooms for a drink while they discussed what the events of the day meant, and how they should proceed.

  “Bill’s not going to sit in?” Butler asked.

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Bill’s a little slow to act. He doesn’t want to get anybody mad at him—which, I think, is one of the main reasons he wanted me as a partner.”

  “So you could be the bad guy?” Butler asked. “Get people mad at you?”

  “Exactly” Short said, “not that I mind, you understand. I’m pretty much at the point in my life when I can’t stand most people, anyway. You’re a little young for that. Give it ten more years.”

  Butler doubted that he was ten years younger than Short. He was also closer than ten years to feeling the way Short felt about people. That tended to happen when so many of them had tried to kill him.

  “Luke, I haven’t said it yet, but I’m sorry about Victor.”

  “Yeah,” Short said, “he was a good man. You could trust him to do what he could do, you know what I mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “He never disappointed me by trying to do more, and then failing.”

  “Luke, you got any other men we can count on, or is it just going to be you and me?”

  “I told you about the two bartenders. They can fight, and they can fire a shotgun.”

  “Can they hit anything?”

  Short looked away and repeated, “They can fire a shotgun.”

  “Hard to miss with one of those,” Butler said.

  “Yeah, well, let’s not count on them hitting anything.”

  “So basically it’s you and me.”

  “Yes,” Short said, “but so far only one guy took a shot at you. I think we can handle one guy.”

  “And how many others do you think Ed Cramer will send after us?” Butler asked.

  “I don’t know,” Short said. “I’m not sure if he wants a war or not.”

  “A war…” Butler said.

  That’s exactly what Butler ended up involved with in Dodge City, but then he had Jim and Bat Masterson and Neal Brown on his side.

  “Maybe it won’t be a war,” Short said. “Maybe everything will just…work out for the best, huh? What do you think of that?”

  “And just how would that go?” Butler asked.

  “I don’t know,” Short said. “Maybe, since whoever Cramer sent after you missed, he’ll change his mind. He’ll know we know he’s behind it, and maybe he’ll decide to lay low for a while.”

  “Or maybe,” Butler said, “somebody’ll just…kill him.”

  “Well,” Luke Short said, “wouldn’t that be nice of someone, to kill him for us.”

  Zeke had something stuck in his teeth, which was odd, because he only had some stumps left in his mouth. He’d always thought that the good thing about not having a mouthful of teeth was that nothing would ever get caught, but now he saw that he was wrong.

  “Crap,” he said.

  There were a few customers at the bar, who looked up and stared at him.

  “Ah, mind yer business.”

  He needed a toothpick. He knew his boss kept some on his desk, and he wasn’t supposed go in his boss’s office, anyway. But it was early in the morning and the boss wouldn’t be in yet.

  “I’ll be right back,” he told the man at the bar. They were all regulars, came staggering in as soon as Zeke opened the doors at nine A.M. It was like that in Hell’s Half Acre. Nobody cared if a saloon
opened early, or if a bunch of men drank in the morning.

  Zeke walked to the back, looked around, then pushed aside the curtain and entered. He started for the desk, saw his boss seated there, and stammered, “Hey, uh, boss, I was just—” but then he noticed something.

  Ed Cramer’s head was splattered all over the wall.

  CHAPTER 26

  When Sheriff Jim Courtwright arrived at the White Elephant that afternoon he came with two deputies. They stopped at the bar and he said to Jerry, “Get your boss out here.”

  “Mr. Ward?”

  “You know who I’m talkin’ about,” Courtwright said. “Luke Short.”

  “Mr. Short’s not here,” Jerry said. “If you want to talk to a boss, it’s gotta be Mr. Ward.”

  “All right,” Courtwright said. “Bring out Mr. Ward.”

  “I’ll get ’im.”

  It wasn’t three yet, the White Elephant was far from busy. Courtwright was able to watch Jerry the whole way as he walked to the back of the huge room. The bartender knocked on a door, stuck his head in, then out, turned and waved at Courtwright to come ahead. The sheriff crossed the floor with his deputies in tow. When he reached Jerry the barman said, “You can go in.”

  “Wait out here, boys,” he told his deputies, and went inside.

  Bill Ward stood up, came around the desk, and asked, “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

  Courtwright ignored Ward’s outstretched hand.

  “You can tell me where your partner is.”

  “Luke?”

  “You got another partner”

  “No, just Luke.”

  “Of course I’m lookin’ for Short,” Courtwright said, impatiently. “Where the hell is he?”

  “I don’t know where Luke is at the moment,” Ward said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Not if you can’t tell me where he is.”

  “I can tell him you’re looking for him.”

  “Warn him, you mean?”

  “About what?” Ward asked. “What’s this all about, anyway?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No, I don’t know.” Now Ward was starting to get impatient.