The Stranger from Abilene

Chapter 6

“He’s here. The man you said would come.”

Two figures were silhouetted in the dark room. One on his feet, one sitting up in bed.

“Bounty hunter?” the man in the bed said. His voice was the weak whisper of a man who found it hard to breathe.

“Rancher. Or so he says.”

“How do you know?”

“Egan Jones, the ferryman. Rode into town on a lathered mule, maybe an hour ago, to spread the news. Kelly told him he already knew, so Jones came here, figured you’d want to hear it.”

“He did right. But he knows too much, that damned ferryman, or guesses too much.”

“You want me to get rid of him permanent?”

“No, not yet. Give him ten dollars and tell him to keep his big mouth shut.”

“Sure.”

“What’s this man’s name?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t give Jones his handle. Said he was from up Abilene way, though.”

“Then this has got to be the work of that Kansas farmer, damn him to hellfire and perdition. How can a man nurse a hate for twenty-five years?”

The man in the bed grabbed a bottle from the table beside him and rattled two pills into his hand. His tall companion poured him water and watched as the sick man palmed the pills into his mouth.

He lay back on the pillow, his voice even weaker now. “You’ll get rid of him?”

“Of course.”

“I want it done quickly and quietly. Oh, and let the Fat Man know you’re taking care of the situation. One other thing: Make it look good for Kelly. I don’t want him on the prod.”

“I got rid of the Pinkertons. You hear anybody complain, Kelly included?”

“No, you did well and helped me repay a favor.”

The sick man on the bed raised a white hand with blue veins. “Lee mustn’t know about this. I want her kept well out of it.”

“She never found out about the Pinkertons.”

“No, she didn’t. So do the same with this stranger from Abilene.”

“A good thing Lee doesn’t know about our other . . . enterprise. I hope no one ever feels the need to tell her.”

“Who would tell her?”

“I might, if it was to my advantage.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Old man, push me hard enough and I’ll dare.”

A silence stretched between the two men; then the tall man said, “I still want her.”

“I’ll see you in hell first,” the man in the bed said.

“One day, when I’m ready, I’ll take her.”

“She wants nothing to do with you. She set her sights higher than Texas gun trash when she married me.”

“I can make her change her mind.”

The bed creaked as the older man leaned forward, peering into the gloom. “Touch my wife and I’ll kill you.”

The tall man moved to the door and looked back. “You’ll kill nobody, you damned cripple. Just remember, I can wring your scrawny neck like a chicken anytime I feel like it, or spill the beans to Kelly and have him do it with a rope.”

“And you’ll swing with me.”

The tall man smiled, his teeth a white gleam in the darkness. “It might be worth it to see you dangle at the end of a rope.”

A sudden fear gripped the man in the bed. Best to play for time. Pretend a small surrender. “We’ll talk. Kill the man from Abilene and then we’ll talk.”

“Damn right we’ll talk. When I want a woman I take her and I won’t let her husband or her daddy or the Devil himself stand in my way.”

The right hand of the man on the bed rested on the walnut butt of a Colt. And for an instant he tensed, ready.

But the moment came and went.

He couldn’t kill this man. He needed him too badly.

After the man from Abilene was dead . . . well, there would be time enough.

“Don’t fail me,” he said.

“Have I ever failed you before?”

The tall man slammed the door behind him.