Slip Gun (8 page)

‘
Don’t
get up, Miss Shivers,’ McCobb requested as the blonde made as if to
rise. ‘We’ll go down the other end.’

Smith thought that he could detect a cynical
smile as the blonde lowered her rump back to the seat. Slowly her
eyes lifted to his, then ran over him from top to bottom. There was
interest in her gaze, and not just caused by hands. Further
thoughts on that subject ended as McCobb coughed twice, cleared his
throat loudly and started speaking.

‘
I’m
satisfied that you acted in self-defense, S— Mr. Smith.
You’re sure you don’t know why they picked on you?’

‘
Nary a
notion,’ the Texan replied.

‘
Or who
could have hired them?’

‘
Nope.
I’ve got a few enemies who might have, but none of them are up this
ways far as I know.’

‘
Where
are you headed for?’

‘
Widow’s Creek. I’ll be going in the morning.’

‘
Who’re
you—?’ McCobb began, showing his relief at the news. Hurriedly
revising his question, he continued, ‘Why’re you going
there?’

‘
For
the county fair,’ Smith answered, eyeing the sheriff in a
challenging manner. ‘Why else?’

McCobb let the query pass. If
Smith carried out his declaration, he
would go out of the sheriff’s
jurisdiction. Never a man to make work for himself, McCobb decided
to let the whole affair slide.

‘
Like I
said,’ he announced. ‘I’m satisfied you was forced into fighting.
Most likely that young cuss figured to get a name as the man who
gunned down Waxahachie Smith.’

‘
Most
likely,’ Burbury put in dryly.

‘
That
being the case,’ the sheriff went on, ‘we’ll say no more about
it.’

‘
Hardly
seemed worthwhile fetching us from the bar,’ Bur-bury commented as
McCobb crossed to where Gilpin was talking to the farmer. ‘Anyways,
we’d’ve had to come here. Lily was saying’s how she’d admire to
meet you.’

‘
So
you’re Waxahachie Smith,’ Lily Shivers said, after Bur-bury had
performed the introductions. ‘I thought that Ric was joshing me
when he told me your name.’

Seen up close, the blonde was
even more beautiful than from a distance. She met
Smith
’s gaze
with an air of equality. Accepting that she possessed considerable
charm for members of the opposite sex, she did not try to play on
it. There was an attitude of calm competence about her, as if she
felt certain that she could match up to any man on his own terms
and handle whatever play he chose to make.

‘
I’ll
go fetch us some drinks,’ Burbury announced, avoiding the question
that Smith was preparing to fire at him. ‘Don’t reckon this
place’ll run to wine, Lily.’

‘
Whiskey’ll do,’ the blonde replied, keeping her eyes on
Smith. There was neither promise nor invitation in them, only a
cool appraisal. ‘This’s a mite north of your home range,
Waxahachie.’

‘
Man
likes to see new places, ma’am,’ the Texan answered. ‘And you’d
likely find “Wax” comes easier to your tongue.’

‘
I’ll
try, if you’ll say “Lily” instead of “ma’am”,’ the blonde promised,
then she stopped smiling. ‘That was a trap if ever I saw one, Wax.
Why’d they come gunning for you?’

‘
Somebody hired ’em. But I couldn’t start to guess
who.’

‘
Maybe
it’s somebody who doesn’t want you to get to Widow’s Creek. I heard
you tell McCobb that’s where you’re headed.’

‘
And I
am.’

‘
For
the county fair?’

‘
Why
else?’

‘
So
play cagey,’ Lily sniffed. ‘Could be I can help you. I’ve seen
those three up at the Creek. They came in the day before I left for
Cheyenne.’

‘
Did,
huh?’ Smith said noncommittally. ‘Who’d they meet?’

‘
You
think maybe I trailed them around?’ Lily replied. They were
together in my place, but nobody joined them. And I saw the
gambling man coming out of the side door of the bank.’

‘
Side
door?’ Smith repeated.

‘
Wil’s
private office door,’ the blonde elaborated. ‘He’d likely been in
there talking business. With Wil, it’d have to be
business.’

Thinking back to
Derham
’s
comments about Lily not getting on with Wil Jeffreys, Smith
wondered if he should mention his employer’s identity. While the
discovery might jolt the blonde into some enlightening comment, it
could also have the opposite effect. Then all he would have
achieved would have been to let Lily know that a rival—enemy
even—was going to hire him. Smith decided that he would lose more
than he might gain by taking her into his confidence. So he was not
sorry to see Burbury returning with a tray of drinks.

‘
Here
we are,’ the burly man boomed, setting down the tray and handing
one of its drinks to Lily.

‘
Just
how long have you known who I am, Ric?’ Smith challenged as Burbury
sat down beyond the blonde.

‘
Would
you believe me if I said only since the old timer named
you?’

‘
Not
‘specially.’

‘
He let
on about it down to the barn. Come in while I was unhitching my
rig.’

‘
I
figured you knew something,’ Smith declared. ‘You didn’t mention
about me wearing my gloves while I was eating.’

‘
Hey,
fellers,’ Lily put in. ‘I’m still sat here. At least throw me a
smile now and then. It’s bad for my reputation if I’m
ignored.’

‘
Sorry,
Lily,’ Burbury grinned. ‘I reckon Wax’s a mite uneasy in his mind
over what happened. And so am I. Those fellers were sure set on
seeing him dead. Way I see it, they was using that put-and-take
game so’s they’d have an excuse for doing it.’

‘
By
having that flashy-dressed yack call him down when he wouldn’t
play?’ Lily asked. ‘He didn’t first time Wax said no.

‘
Likely
they wasn’t sure where I sat in the game,’ Burbury replied. ‘I
raked at Hayward, but he took it. Wasn’t ’til I’d come over to you
that it happened.’

‘
What
if Wax’d played the next time he was asked?’

‘
He’d
already said “no” once. So if he’d come in on that pot and took it,
the other fellers in the game would’ve objected and given Hayward
his chance,’ Burbury answered and took the top from his left side
pocket. Turning it over on the palm of his left hand, he examined
it. ‘I dunno if it means anything, but some of the edges are
rounder than the others.’

‘
That’s
so it’ll fall the right way, if you know the gaff,’ Lily explained.
‘The top tends to roll off the sides with the rounded edges and
stop on those which are sharp.’

‘
What’s
the gaff?’ Smith inquired, knowing the word to be a gambler’s
expression for the secret which caused a crooked device to perform
its dishonest function.

‘
If you
spin it clockwise, which comes natural to a right-handed feller,’
the blonde explained, taking the top and demonstrating, ‘it lands
on a “put”. Turn it the other way and you get a “take” every time.
I had a jasper from a crooked gambling supply house ’round trying
to sell me some gaffed and straight tops a few weeks
back.’

The drummers returned, cursing the weather
and their lousy luck in being caught for such a stinking chore.
Looking around, Smith found that the farmer and his wife had
disappeared. Gilpin stood at the bar with the sheriff, while a
couple of hostlers swabbed the blood from the floor. After throwing
scowls at the Texan and Burbury, the drummers slouched across to
the bar.

‘
Hardy
was spinning anti-clockwise all the time,’ Burbury reminded
Smith.

‘
That’d
be so nobody’d be able to complain he’d changed his way when he
used the gaffed top,’ Lily guessed.

‘
Only
he didn’t get ’round to using it,’ Smith pointed out.

‘
Could
be he was counting on you taking his offer, hitting a “Put All” and
not wanting to pay,’ Burbury suggested. ‘That’d’ve given Hayward a
chance to call you down.’

‘
Know
what I think?’ Lily asked. ‘I’m betting that Hardy hadn’t meant to
have Hayward take you until he’d won the pot. Then he got a signal
from that other feller to do it. Or he fumbled while he was trying
to switch tops and thought he’d made the marks suspicious, so he
might’s well get it over with. Hayward had already established that
he wouldn’t let anybody disrespect Hardy. So nobody’d think too
much about him calling you over refusing what looked like a
friendly offer.’

‘
We’ll
never know for sure which it was,’ Smith predicted and looked at
Burbury. ‘How’d you figure that Moxley
hombre
was tied in with ’em?’

That didn
’t take much doing,’ the burly man
countered. ‘They’d all got the same kind of mud on their boots, for
one thing.’

‘
Moxley
looked primed for trouble when he come in,’ Lily went on. ‘He’d
been wearing a slicker, but took it off before he came through the
door.’

‘
In the
barn, or wherever he left his hoss,’ Burbury corrected. ‘That
didn’t mean much. Feller with a price on his head likes to have a
clear grab at his gun when he walks into a room full of strangers.
Somebody among ’em might recognize him.’

‘
Somebody
did,’ Smith stated, staring pointedly at the burly
man.

‘
Us
travelling-man from Schuyler, Hartley and Graham get around,’
Burbury answered blandly. ‘And I’ve always been real good at
remembering faces.’

‘
You’re
real good at handling a gun, too,’ Smith complimented.

‘
Man
totes a wad of folding-money like I do, he needs to be,’ Burbury
answered. ‘Talking of guns, I’d admire to see yours.’

Although Smith sensed that
Burbury was deliberately changing the subject, he did not argue. He
owed the burly
‘drummer’ his life, so figured that he could put up with
the other’s reticence and evasions. If it came to a point, Burbury
could be speaking the truth and might be no more than he claimed,
with a valid reason for knowing how to handle a gun.

‘
You
mean how does a feller like me shoot it,’ Smith drawled.

‘
No
offence, Wax,’ Burbury said and sounded sincere.

‘
None
took,’ the Texan assured him, lifting out the Colt and placing it
on the table. ‘Here, take a look.’

At first glance, the
revolver
—with
its metal parts the deep blue of the Best Citizen’s Finish—might
have passed for an ordinary Civilian Model Peacemaker. Closer
observation revealed certain alterations. There was neither
foresight nor trigger. The spur had been reduced in size, its
checkering removed to leave it smooth and was fitted half-way down
the curve of the hammer instead of at the top.

‘
It’s a
slip gun, isn’t it?’ Lily asked, studying the weapon. ‘I’ve heard
of them, but the only one I ever saw just had its trigger tied
back. Feller who used it fanned the hammer. He sure made a
life-like corpse.’

‘
Most
folks who fan regular get that way,’ Smith admitted. ‘Which’s why I
had this old plough-handle fitted up special.’

‘
How?’
Burbury inquired and his interest had a genuine ring to
it.

‘
Had
the trigger and its half of the bolt spring left off. That lil stud
on the hammer, what they call the bolt-cam, ’s only half the
regular size. Throws less strain on the bolt-arm and makes it work
smoother. That short, slick spur’s set low on the hammer so’s I can
thumb it back easier and the butt’s maybe an inch shorter to give
me a better grip.’

‘
You
must have put some thought into getting it right,’ Lily
praised.

‘
Man
with only one trade has to get the right tools, regardless,’ Smith
answered. ‘Handling guns was just about the only thing I
knew.’

Looking at the tanned,
expressionless face, Lily sensed something of the long, hard
struggle Smith had made to face life after the accident that had
cost him both forefingers. Only vague
rumors circulated about how the loss had
occurred. What she did know was that Smith’s name had been
prominent among Texas Rangers and he was said likely to become the
youngest captain of that fabled law enforcement body. Receiving
what would be regarded as a completely incapacitating injury had
blasted his chances. Many men would have turned their back on guns
and gun-fighting, but Smith did not. She wondered what deep,
driving compulsion had helped him to overcome the handicap and
develop such a deadly technique and a weapon so perfectly adapted
to his needs.