Summary:  Another person’s view of a scene from Credit For A Kill.

Rated: T (2,930 words)

 

Casey’s Side

It’s gettin’ so a fella can’t even have a good time in the saloon anymore, what with uppity saloon gals and out-of-town gunslingers hanging around.  I complained to the sheriff, but of course Fenton didn’t do a dadblame thing about it.

 

I told him I was just sittin’ there minding my own business, playing a hand of cards with the boys.  That piano player was banging out some kind of tune.  I don’t know what it was, how’s a man supposed to pay attention to a thing like that when she looked so fine doing it?  I figured she was gettin’ a little lonesome and was about to mosey on over to talk to her when the stranger walked in.

Did I say walked?  Might as well have said strutted.  He strolled through the saloon like he owned it.  You could tell he thought highly of himself just in the way he walked.  His green jacket fit just so and his gun riding low.  All those gunslingers wear their guns low.  That’s how you can tell what they are.  But he didn’t scare me.  Course not.  I ain’t no baby hangin’ on his momma’s arm.

I watched him plunk down at a table right next to Lorna.  Saw him smile and nod at her too, just like they was old friends.  Made me start a slow burn, because I’d been trying to get to know her ever since she arrived in town.  She wouldn’t give me the time of day, let alone a smile like the one she gave him.

It was just too much for a man to take.  I tossed in my hand and strolled over to let that stranger know just whose woman he was eyeing.

I leaned on the piano and gave Lorna my best smile, ignoring the gunslinger as best I could.  “Want company, sweetheart?”

She decided to play hard to get.  She does that.  I guess she thinks it makes a man want her all the more.  Maybe she’s right.  Sure works on me.

“Not that I know of.”  She looked past me and favored the fella in the green jacket with a smile.  “Favorite number for you, stranger?”

The burning in my gut got a little hotter.  She’d never smiled at me like that.  And who did she think she was, ignoring me that way?

The stranger grinned. He was probably used to saloon gals throwing themselves at him. He was kind of a pretty little fella.  “Whatever you play is fine with me, Ma’am,” he said, with a wink and a wave of his hand.  Then he rocked back in his chair, all ready to enjoy the music, I guess.

Well, I wasn’t gonna let some gunslinger waltz into town and steal the girl I’d been huntin’ for the past few weeks.  I slid onto the bench next to her and snagged her tiny waist with one arm.  “I’ve got a favorite number,” I said.  “You.”

I tried to plant a kiss on her neck, but she pushed me away.  The ice in her eyes could have given me frostbite if I’d let it.  Her voice was even colder.  “When my neck needs washing, Mr. Rawlins, I’ll do it myself.”

“You an iceberg, girlie?”  I tried to kiss her again.  She just needed a little warming up, that’s all.  I knew she’d come around when I gave her a full dose of the Casey Rawlins charm.

She shoved at me again, obviously putting on a show for the cowboy.  “Will ya leave me alone?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she didn’t like me.

I grinned.  “Don’t play ‘holier-than-thou’ with me, lady,” I advised her.  I figured it wouldn’t hurt to remind her of her place.  “This is a saloon, and you’re here to entertain.”  I wrestled with her some more.  This was starting to be fun.

She tried to push me away, and her voice was cold.  Reminded me of one of my old schoolmarms.  “Mr. Rawlins, my kind of entertainment is supposed to be cultural, not physical,” she hissed.

She sure was good at the game.  I knew she was just playing hard to get.  I showed her I knew she was just funnin’ by turning to the keyboard.

“Somebody once said ‘if you can’t whip ‘em, join ‘em’.”  I plunked out a tune with one finger.  This gal could really heat a man’s blood with her prim and proper act.

“Hey, mister.”

I heard his voice and ignored him.  With that type of fella, you don’t want to let ‘em see they got you rattled.  I kept on playin’ the piano like he wasn’t there.

“Hey, you.”

I finally looked up and stared at him like I’d just noticed him for the first time.

“Go finish your drink.  I want to hear the music.”

His voice was low, almost a drawl like he was trying to keep the rest of the fellas from hearing.  Maybe he wasn’t as tough as he was trying to look if he didn’t want anyone to hear what he had to say.  I was tired of his interference.  Lorna had me in a sweat and I aimed to have me some fun.

“Get lost little boy,” I said, and then I tried to kiss her again.

A chair scraped and next thing I know the coldest pair of green eyes I’d seen were staring down at me.  “The ‘little boy’ wants to hear the music,” he said.  And just stood there.

Well that did it.  This fly had to be swatted.  I stood up and threw a punch at him.  He was a little fella for all that he acted so tough.  I knew I could take him.  He drew back his left arm and let fly a punch that sent me flying over a table.  I couldn’t believe it.  How could a man that small have it in ‘im?

I scrambled to my feet, expecting him to come at me, but he just stood there, ready for anything.  I hesitated.  After all, I didn’t know who this fella was.  I didn’t want to hurt him too badly if he had kin who’d come looking for revenge.  Deciding to let him be, I turned and left the saloon.  It was the right thing to do—for his sake.

 

++++++++++++

 

I walked up and down the sidewalk for a few minutes, trying to cool off.  That gunslinger didn’t know how lucky he was I’d decided not to take him apart.  The fool didn’t know who he was dealing with.  Casey Rawlins was one tough customer.  I had to back off.  It was the only thing to do.

It was while I was mulling this over that I noticed folks all clustered around in little knots, talking, pointing, and nodding their heads.  Something was up, and I wanted to know what.

It didn’t take me long to find out, and what I heard really made my blood boil.  That fella I’d been so kind too was a killer.  A cold-blooded, bounty-huntin’ killer.  Turns out his name was Cartwright.  Joe Cartwright.  And he’d brought a body in to Sheriff Fenton.

Sure, Morgan Tanner was with him, but everyone knew it was Cartwright who’d done the killin’.  Tanner’s right arm was useless after he’d broken it last spring.  No way he coulda shot at anybody and hit ‘em.  It didn’t come as any surprise to me to find out the fella they’d brought in had a bounty on his head too.  Two thousand dollars.  I whistled.  A man didn’t often see that kind of money altogether in one place.

This being Nevada we’d all heard the name Cartwright.  It’d be kinda hard not to know of the family that owned most of the land in the territory. Seemed a little odd that one of the high-and-mighty Cartwright’s would need to stoop to bounty hunting.  But what did I know?  Could be the kid had had a fallin’ out with his old man and needed the cash.

I smiled a bit.  Lorna Medford sure wouldn’t want to keep company with a man who killed for money.  I strolled back to the saloon whistling.  Time to take Cartwright down a peg or two.  I’d have Lorna eating out of my hand in no time.

I pushed through the swinging doors and saw Cartwright sitting at a table with Lorna.  Their heads were together and it looked like they were having a pretty serious conversation.  It rankled me she’d give him so much attention when all I got from her was a cold look and an unkind word.  Well, she’d soon be changing her tune.

I tossed Cartwright a glare and then ambled over to lean on the bar.

“Hey girlie,” I called out, loud enough so’s everyone could hear.  “You might like to know that whatever *Mister* Cartwright buys ya has been paid for by a dead man.”

Lorna looked up at me, her whole face one big question.  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

I grinned.  “Whole town’s talking about it.  There was a reward on that dead man.  And I’m betting Cartwright and his friend Morgan killed him for money.”

I straightened up and glared at the gunslinger, but Cartwright kept his back to me and took a sip of his drink.  “You shoot him in the back, Cartwright?  Take him by surprise?  I know all about you.  Want to hear it?”

I flicked a look at Lorna to see how she was taking all this and then turned back to Cartwright.  He still didn’t look at me.

“You got the floor, mister.  Keep talking.”  Cartwright’s voice was flat, colder’n ice in winter.

I could see Lorna’s face had gotten white, but she was paying more attention to me than she’d done since she got to town.  I turned so’s the fellas could all hear.  “He’s a rich kid, run out of money.  So he turned bounty hunter.”  I swung back to face Cartwright.  “What’s a matter, rich kid?  Didn’t you get your lollipop allowance this week?”

I rocked back on my heels and waited, knowing I was pushing him and waiting to see what happened. I’d have that boy scampering out of town quicker’n he could spit.  He didn’t know who he was dealing with when he took on Casey Rawlins.

He sat still.  Didn’t even look at me for all I was daring him too.  “Don’t push it too far, mister.”  He took another sip of his drink, but I could tell he’d tensed up.  I was getting to him, that’s for sure.

Making sure the boys could see me, I tossed Cartwright my best glare and put a sneer in my voice.  “I don’t have a price on my head, mister.  I’m not worth two thousand dollars, dead or alive.  If you’re good enough to shoot me you might find some small change in my pocket.”  I fished around in my vest and found what I was looking for.

I strolled across the room, jingling some coins so’s everyone knew what I had.  I tossed ‘em down on the table beside him.  “Here.  I’ll save ya the trouble.”  And then I strolled back to the bar to see what he’d do.

I figured he’d slink out of the saloon then.  He’d just sat there, takin’ everything I said.  He wasn’t denying a thing.  He wasn’t so tough when he wasn’t taking a victim by surprise, was he?  I hooked my thumbs into my pockets and grinned at the boys.

Cartwright stood up.  I tensed, waiting for him to go for his gun, or fly at me swinging his fists.  Everyone in the saloon held their breath.  I felt a bead of sweat roll down my neck, and my hand hovered by my gun.  I could take him.  He was just a snot-nosed rich kid playing bounty hunter, I told myself.  But my stomach rolled and it felt like a fist had squeezed my windpipe, cause I couldn’t breathe.

Cartwright set down his drink, moving slow.  He picked up the coins and looked at ‘em.  Just stood there, like he was countin’ ‘em.  When he swung toward me, I jumped, thinking he was going to pull his gun.

But he didn’t.  He walked toward me.  I stood my ground, daring him to do something.  Casey Rawlins ain’t no scared kid.

But he didn’t pull his gun.  He paced to the bar and tossed my money down.  The coins clinked on the counter, and the echo rippled up and down my spine.

Cartwright’s voice, although pitched low, cut through the silence.  “Give me a couple of beers.  My friend’s buying.”

I gaped at him as the barman scuttled off.  What was he getting at?  Why didn’t he just pull his gun or throw a punch and fight like a man?

Jed was back with the beers, setting them both in front of Cartwright.  You could have heard a pin drop in the saloon as every pair of eyes watched his every move.

Cartwright let the silence grow until it pounded in my ears.  When he finally spoke it was in that same flat tone.  “You know, loud mouth, they say if a man could second guess his mistakes he’d never die by accident.”  His voice grew a little louder.  “Well, I’m going to give you a chance to learn that lesson.”

I flushed, a surging swell of warmth starting at my toes and flooding through my body as my rage battled with an icy dread which seemed to have taken hold in the pit of my stomach.

Cartwright sent one of the beers sliding down the bar.  Instinctively I reached out to catch it.

“Leave that stand there,” he ordered.  “That’s a very important beer glass.  That beer glass is you.”  He nodded down at the other glass.  “This one’s me.  Now, see, the idea is to see if you can spill my beer before I spill yours.”

I stared at him, completely confused.  What kind of game was he playing?  Didn’t he know I’d just called him names no decent man would accept?  Didn’t he know his fists should be flying to wipe out the stain on his honor?  The man was a fool prattling on about beer glasses.  The ice in my belly spread, quelling my rage, and it was all I could do to stop my hand from shaking.  What kind of animal had I set loose?

Cartwright pulled himself up straight and moved slightly away from the bar.  His eyes never left mine as he stood, his hand almost casually hovering near his gun.  “Any time you’re ready, loud mouth.”  His voice held the sneer I’d been waiting for.

I hesitated.  I couldn’t believe the mess I’d got myself into.  He was just some rich kid.  Supposed to crawl from the saloon on his belly after I’d wiped the floor with him in fight.  I’d figured the only way he’d shot Luke Jordan was by ambushing him on the trail when the outlaw least suspected it.  And now I was standing here listening to him talk about beer glasses.  I felt like I’d jumped into Miller’s pond forgettin’ I didn’t know how to swim.

A quick glance around the room showed me the boys were all watchin’ me now, not him.  It was my move.  If I crawled now, I’d never be able to hold my head up in Elkton again.

I went for my gun.

Before I even got it out of the holster, Cartwright’s gun was up and firing.  Beer splattered my shirtsleeve and shards of glass pricked my arm as I finally got my gun out.  I stared at the mess on the counter in disbelief, finally raising my eyes to see Cartwright with a lopsided smirk on his face.  I gulped.

“Oh.  You would’ve died of a real bad case of slow,” he drawled.

I gaped at him, the gun in my hand wavering a bit.  He nodded at it.

“Put it back.”

My hands were shaking, my knees threatened to buckle.  I quickly shoved the gun back in my holster and held my hands where he could see ‘em.  I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead, more trickling down the small of my back.  How could this snot-nosed kid be so calm?

He moved, and I flinched, thinking he was going to shoot me next.  But all he did was slide the other beer glass gently down the long counter.

“Now.  Drink to your good health and your good fortune.”

I licked my lips, now gone dry, as he slid his own gun back into his low-slung holster.  Before I made any more of a fool of myself, I spun around and almost ran for the door.

Out on the sidewalk, I stood shaking, gasping for breath as I leaned against the wall letting the rough boards hold me up.  That kid was crazy.  He could have killed me.  The sheriff needed to hear about him.

That was it.  The sheriff.

I headed for the other end of town at a dead run.  The sheriff needed to run that crazy killer out of town.

 

The End

 

May 2003

 

 

 Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.