Texas Bluff

CHAPTER 28

When Luke Short entered the Bloody Spur the bartender, Zeke, went for the shotgun he kept under the bar. Short drew his gun and pointed it at him.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said.

Zeke froze. There were a few men in the place—two at tables, one standing at the bar—who looked but didn’t move.

“You gonna kill me, too?” Zeke asked.

“I’m not going to kill you, too, because I didn’t kill your boss.”

“Yeah, right,” Zeke said. “You said you were gonna blow out the back of his head, and you did.”

Short approached the bar and said, “Somebody did. Somebody who knew that killin’ him that way would lead to me. Now my question to you is, who did you tell?”

“Me?” Zeke said, staring down the barrel of Short’s gun. “I didn’t tell nobody. There was plenty of other fellas in here that day, maybe one of them did it.”

“Well, that’s possible,” Short agreed. He turned to look at the other three men in the place, who immediately turned away.

“Okay, let’s try somethin’ else,” he said to Zeke. “Who found your boss dead?”

“I did.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It was early—uh, early for him to be in his office. I went in, figuring he wasn’t there, and I found him.”

“With the back of his head missin’.”

Zeke nodded.

“Who else could have had a motive to shoot him?”

“You kiddin’?” Zeke asked. “Anybody down here.”

“He wasn’t well liked?”

“Nobody’s well liked down here,” Zeke said. “Everybody’s out for themselves.”

“So you can’t give me a name or two—your boss’s biggest enemies?”

“There are other saloons right on this street,” Zeke said. “Start with them.”

“What about women?”

“He had lots of ’em.”

“Did he treat them badly?”

“Well, yeah,” Zeke said, as if that was obvious.

“Would any of them have killed him that way?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because the kind of woman he kept company with liked bein’ treated that way.”

Short studied the man for a moment, then decided he was telling the truth. Apparently, when it came to women, Cramer kept to his own kind.

He turned to leave, then thought of something else.

Butler stood outside the Bloody Spur, watching the action from the window. He also had to keep an eye on the street for an ambush, or for the law. He checked out the rooftops across the street, saw a white curtain in a window move. He stared into the window of the Spur again, but this time he was using the reflection. Sure enough, as soon as he looked away the curtain was pushed aside and someone looked out the window again. He didn’t see a gun barrel come out. Somebody was just watching him, or watching the Bloody Spur.

Interesting.

“Who was your boss using for bushwacking people?” Short asked Zeke.

“Huh?”

“Come on,” Short said, “Cramer had people killed. Who was he usin’? Give me a name.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“H-he’ll kill me.”

“Who?”

“Sutherlan—” Zeke stopped, as he realized he’d been tricked.

“Finish the name.”

“That’s it,” Zeke said. “Sutherland.”

“No first name?”

“If he’s got one I don’t know it.”

“He’s a killer?

“I ain’t never seen him kill nobody,” Zeke said, “but that’s his rep.”

“And he came in here to see your boss?”

“All the time.”

“So maybe he killed him.”

“Why would he?” Zeke asked. “The boss paid him.”

“Maybe,” Short said, “he wasn’t payin’ him enough anymore.”