when it came to actually fighting anybody, for fear of maybe hurting them. Which meant he was the one who ended up on his back and Hanratty ended up shelling out money instead of raking it in.
With McMahon and his lightning fists, however, it was a whole different story. Hanratty had already seen proof the man was willing to fight. It took practically no time for the professor to formulate the rest of the concept that became part of each show: First McMahon would come out and demonstrate the accuracy of his quick hands by striking down fist-sized burlap pouches of pea gravel thrown at him from a distance of thirty feet. (Since baseball was fast becoming a popular sport all across the country, this distance was widely recognized as being only half that of a pitcher throwing to home plate.) Would-be hurlers were invited to pay twenty-five cents for a pouch of gravel to throw as hard as they could at McMahon’s head and shoulders. They could try as many times as they wished, providing of course they purchased a new pouch each time, and if one of their throws eluded McMahon’s fists within a reasonable reach zone their entire expenditure would be repaid double. This naturally segued into the inevitable challenge for a boxing match to take place later that night—$150 offered to any man who could go three rounds with McMahon and still be on his feet at the end. Admission to see this event was fifty cents and once again Hanratty was available to take side bets.
All of the hoopla for this, of course, was liberally laced with claims that McMahon’s physical prowess was due largely to faithful daily doses of Hanratty’s Astonishing Elixir. In truth, the boxing challenges quickly became popular and profitable quite apart from the rest of the show and how much they actually added to sales of the elixir no one could be sure. But what was certain beyond any doubt was that Professor Hanratty’s Traveling Medicine & Health Show was seeing profits like never before and the day of having enough money set aside for Molly’s operation was close at hand.
* * * *
The next day they departed the nameless mining camp and headed on up the line toward their next destination, which was likely to be the final stop of the season before the snows of winter chased them down out of the mountains until spring.
The four riders appeared right after they’d begun their descent into a narrow gorge with the shadows of late afternoon starting to stretch across the rocky trail. At the other end of the gorge was a campsite where they’d planned to spend the night. But, suddenly, the way was blocked by two of the riders dancing their horses out from behind a jagged outcropping and then reining them to a halt directly in the middle of the trail. From behind came the other two riders, galloping up fast, the clatter of their horses’ hooves announcing their arrival until they too reined up short and blocked the trail from behind.
Hugo brought the first wagon to a halt and McMahon, driving the second team, followed suit. Each of the riders promptly produced a Winchester rifle from his saddle scabbard and made a show of jacking a round into the chamber, the sound of the levering mechanisms echoing hollowly off the surrounding rocks.
From the wagon seat beside Hugo, Hanratty scowled fiercely and demanded, “Here now. What is the meaning of this?”
One of the front riders, evidently the leader of the bunch, a wedge-faced specimen with shaggy brows and a prominently displayed set of gnarled yellow teeth, replied calmly, “For an educated man, Professor, that sure seems like a stupid-ass question.... What the hell do you think the meaning of four armed men blockin’ your path might be?”
“Is this an attempted robbery, you knave? Is that what you are about?”
Gnarled Teeth flashed a coyote’s grin. “No, you phony bag of wind, this ain’t an attempted robbery...this is a damn robbery. Now start shuckin’ your hardware—guns and knives and such—and tossin’ ’em down to the ground.”
“We are not armed hooligans like you. We are simply—”
“More stupid talk,” Gnarled Teeth cut him off. “Only a bunch of fools would try to pass through these mountains unarmed against wild critters and the like. Don’t try to tell me you don’t have a rifle or two somewhere in those wagons. Now shuck ’em out and be quick about it or you’ll force me to show you the hard way that we mean business and ain’t to be trifled with.”
“Better do as he says, Professor,” advised McMahon.
Moments later an old Henry rifle and a shotgun had been withdrawn from the wagons and tossed to the ground.
“What about sidearms? Short guns?” Gnarled Teeth wanted to know.
“Surely you can see we are not shootists to be armed in that manner,” said Hanratty.
“No, that’s just it.... I can’t see. Stand up, each of you, and open your coats wide. Do it slow and careful.”
When that demand had been satisfied, Gnarled Teeth motioned for them to re-seat themselves. “Now,” he said, “we get to the fun part.... Leastways for me and my pards. Time for you to hand over all your valuables and the money sack or strongbox or whatever it is you keep your hard cash in.”
“You miserable wretch,” Hanratty seethed. “We’re nothing but a poor traveling show barely eeking out an existence. Your take will be pitiful when split amongst the four of you and you’ll leave us facing starvation with winter coming on.”
“Stow that poor-mouth shit, I ain’t buyin’ it,” responded Gnarled Teeth. “I been watchin’ you. I’ve seen you put on your show two or three times now. Includin’ again last night. You draw big crowds and you take in plenty of cash, so don’t pretend you ain’t got a sizable wad stashed somewhere. You’ll cough it up, too, and do it mighty fast or my pards and me will start throwin’ lead to encourage you. You push us, we’ll start with that big ox sittin’ right there beside you—blowin’ his pumpkin off won’t matter much, anyway, what with it bein’ nothin’ but empty space to begin with.”
“You leave Hugo alone!” protested Molly.
“Shhh. Pipe down, girl,” McMahon admonished her.
The riders at the rear edged up closer.
Gnarled Teeth swung his focus to McMahon. “Yeah, you tell her, boxer man. Tell her like it is. Bullets start flyin’, they ain’t necessarily gonna care if it’s a lame-brain or a cripple that gets in their way.”
McMahon’s eyes blazed with hate. “You’re a cowardly dog,” he rasped.
“I truly am sorry you feel that way about me,” said Gnarled Teeth. “You see, I sorta admire you. Like I said, I’ve seen your show. Seen you box. You got real quick hands for a big man, maybe the quickest I ever saw. I admire a fella who takes a natural ability like that and trains it into a special skill like boxin’.”
“Step down off that horse, I’d be happy to give you a personal demonstration.”
Gnarled Teeth chuckled throatily. “Yeah, I bet you would, wouldn’t you? Tell you what, though.... I got me a skill of my own. You see, I happen to be pretty good with a gun. And you know what? The best punch you ever throwed in your life wouldn’t amount to shit up against the punch from one of my Winchester slugs.” Gnarled Teeth’s expression suddenly turned cold. “Now you tell this phony old bastard up here in the front wagon to get his ass in gear and start handin’ over what I asked for and nobody has to get hurt.”
“All right, all right,” the professor said hurriedly. “No need for violence. Please. Here, under my seat, is the strongbox you want.” He stood up again, as did Hugo, and the two of them lifted the wagon seat so that
