coin in his jeans and bought a little spread, and then began muscling out the small-time settlers and farmers, paying about ten cents on the dollar, and pretty soon he was the biggest outfit in Puma County, and the T-Bar kept Doubtful going. Without the T-Bar, Doubtful would be a ghost town, and no one would know Puma County from New York City.
I sorta liked Crayfish. He was honest in his crookedness. Ask Crayfish what he wanted from life, and he’d not mince any words. He wanted all of Puma County, as well as Sage County next door, and Bighorn County up above, and half the legislature of Wyoming, along with the judges and the tax assessor. I asked him, and that’s what he told me. I also asked him what else he wanted, and he said he wanted half a dozen wives, or a good cathouse would do in a pinch, and his own railroad car and a mountain lion for a house pet. He got no children, so there ain’t nothing he wants but land and cows and judges and women. You sorta had to like Catfish. He was a plain speaker, and he sure beat Admiral Bragg for entertainment. Catfish tried to buy out Admiral, but Admiral, he filed a claim on every water hole and creek in all the country, and that led to bad blood and they’ve been threatening to shoot the balls off each other ever since. There’s no tellin’ what gets into people, but I take it personal. I gotta keep order in this here Puma County, and I know from experience that when a few males got strange handles, like Admiral and Crayfish, or Cotton, there’s trouble a percolatin’ and no way of escaping it. The feller with the worst handle usually wins, and I’ve always figured Admiral is a worse name than Crayfish, and even worse than Cotton, though I’m not very happy with what got hung on me.
Well, I was gonna go talk to Crayfish again, for sure.
“Sammy, I think I asked you a question. Was Crayfish Ruble in here when the shooting started?”
Upward just polished the bar, like he didn’t hear me.
“Who pays your wages, Sammy?”
I knew who. It was Crayfish. He owned the Last Chance, but didn’t want no one to know it, so the name on the papers was Rosie, but she didn’t have a dime more than she could make on her back, and someone put up a wad to buy this place, and it was Crayfish.
“I get my pay from Rosie,” Sammy said.
I leaned across the bar and grabbed a handful of apron and pulled him tight. I seen his hands clawing for that Greener under the bar, so I just tugged him tighter.
“Don’t,” I said. “Who owns this joint?”
“Never did figure that out,” he replied.
“You’re a card, Upward. I think I’m going to look a lot closer at this here triple murder. Somebody shot three of Ruble’s hands, and maybe it was King Bragg, just like the court says it was, but maybe it was someone else, you know who, and ain’t saying. And I’m poking around a little more until I got a better handle on it. This ain’t makin’ me happy.”
Upward, he didn’t like that none.
FOUR
Sammy Upward, he polished that bar so hard he was scrapin’ varnish. I sure liked him even if I didn’t trust him none. He’s got a full deck in his head, more than I got, and he’s always trying to deal aces to himself. So I just stood there and waited for him to outsmart himself.
“Pickens, I never give anything away. You want something from me, you pay for it.”
I’d heard that before, so I just waited.
“Maybe trade. I’ll trade for things.”
I nodded.
“Like, you tell me something and I tell you something. You want news, you tell me news.”
I nodded. “Don’t call me Pickens,” I said. “It’s bad enough alone, but when you put Cotton in front, it’s good for a punch in the nose.”
“Well, do you think I like Upward? What am I, a choirboy?”
“What do you want to know, Sammy?”
He quit polishing. “This is a cold case. How come you’re opening it up?”
“I ain’t very happy with it, is all.”
“You ain’t squaring with me, Sheriff. What got into your bonnet?”
It’s true, I wasn’t squaring with him.
“I got just about hanged myself. So I thought I’d have another look at things.”
“Just about hanged? Just about hanged? Get outa here, Sheriff, or make sense.”
“I got shot in the outhouse.”
“Shot in the outhouse! Now I’ve heard everything. Pickens, you’re either drunk or you belong in the funny farm.”
“It was in Belle’s crapper, and they surrounded me and put a bullet in. Now you tell me something.”
“Me tell you something! You got shot in the crapper and hanged, and now you want something from me!”
This was getting impossible. “I quit,” I said, and clamped the Stetson down on my lumpy head. I’d had enough of Sammy Upward.
“Who hanged you? Who shot you? It had to be Admiral Bragg. Right?”
“I’ve done enough confessing, dammit.”
“How come you’re alive if you got hanged and shot?”
“The bullet went over my head and the rope didn’t hold.”
“Sheriff, I ain’t getting the whole monte.”
“That’s because I don’t feel like telling it. Now I’m outa here.”
“Wait! Don’t go out that door. I’ll tell you something. This here place, it’s owned by Crayfish Ruble, not Rosie.”
“So?” I yawned and headed for clean air. That saloon stank like the vault of an outhouse, especially when the air was moving from Sammy in my direction.
I hadn’t got anything from Upward that I didn’t know, and me getting shot in the crapper would be all over Doubtful anyway.
“Up yours, Upward,” I said.
Maybe that wasn’t very smart, but I never can think of anything catchy to say. Some men, they’ve got just the right word for every occasion, but not me. Upward had got a confession out of me, and I got nothing in return. So all I could think of was Up Yours.
I sure hated the way it was going to play around town. There’d be whispering and laughing behind my back. Admiral Bragg, he dang near hanged the sheriff! Strung him right up and kicked the wagon out! Put a slug through Belle’s crapper, too, caught the sheriff with his pants down! Every time I walked into one of the town’s five saloons, they’d be smilin’ and snickering and I’d be as ornery as a two-hump camel.
I’d be hearing about it for a month. Hell, I’d be hearing about it until I quit and got out of Doubtful. Which I was of a mind to do. This thing was wounding my pride.
I
