Ralph Compton Blood Duel полностью

“Make sure he doesn’t shoot me in the back,” Paunch said. “That would be his style.”

“You despicable pig,” Club said.

Paunch Stevens laughed.

To Winifred Curry, the advent of the three into his saloon was immediate cause for worry. “No shooting in here! It took me half a day to clean up the blood from the last mess.”

Chester puffed out his chest and grandly sauntered to the bar. “The shooting will take place in the street. We must first discuss the preliminaries.”

“The what?” Paunch Stevens said.

“The permit fee, the burial costs,” Chester recited. “All those must be dealt with before you can draw your guns.”

“The hell you say?”

“Didn’t you read our notice in the Times? Mention was made of all of it,” Chester said.

Club Caine nodded. “I read the notice.”

“Good. Then as soon as you each have paid the fee and signed the form our lawyer drew up, I will set a time for the killing to commence.”

“Hold on,” Paunch said. “What is this fee you keep mentioning? And why in hell do we have to sign something?”

“The form releases Coffin Varnish of all liability,” Chester explained. “Our lawyer thought it prudent. After all, we do not want you to blame our town if all you do is cripple one another.”

“You have thought of everything,” Club Caine said.

“I’ve tried,” Chester said. “Although, the truth be told, it was my wife who insisted we talk to a lawyer and have papers drawn up.”

“You still haven’t said how much the fee will be,” Paunch noted. “No one mentioned anything about any damn fee.”

“Surely you did not think you could kill for free?” Chester replied. “Each of you must obtain a permit.”

The door at the back opened and in came Sally Worth. She had brushed her hair and changed into her best dress. “How do I look now?” she asked Paunch Stevens, but he did not answer.

“How much do these permits cost?”

“One hundred dollars.”

“Each?” Paunch said in amazement.

“Each,” Chester said. “Then there is the burial cost. Another fifty from each of you, to be used only if you are killed and returned to you if you are not.”

“Let me get this straight,” Paunch said. “You expect us to give you one hundred and fifty dollars before we can squeeze a trigger?”

“That is correct,” Chester confirmed.

“Why, that is nothing but out and out robbery,” Paunch complained, “and I, for one, will not stand for it. I came here to kill this English son of a bitch and that is exactly what I aim to do.” With that, Paunch stabbed a hand for his Smith & Wesson.

Chapter 14

Seamus Glickman was the only one in the sheriff’s office when Aces Weaver hurried in. Seamus looked up from the Illustrated Police News and nodded in friendly greeting. He had played cards with Weaver a few times. Then Seamus saw the expression on the gambler’s face. “If it is trouble I do not want to hear about it.”

“It could be trouble,” Aces Weaver said.

“I do not want to hear it.” Seamus resumed reading and did his best to ignore the man standing barely three feet from his desk. But he could not ignore Weaver’s feet. They poked into the edge of his vision like unwanted intruders. “Why haven’t you left yet?”

“I need to talk to someone,” Aces said. “If not you, then Sheriff Hinkle.”

“He is in court, giving testimony,” Seamus revealed. “He will not be in until later today, if then.”

“One of the deputies, then?” Aces hopefully asked.

“All performing official duties,” Seamus said. “I have been left to hold down the fort.”

“Who is upholding the law?”

“Very funny,” Seamus said, but he was not amused, not in the least. Irritated, he tried to concentrate on the lurid account of a buxom young woman from Philadelphia who fell into the clutches of opium fiends. The drawings that accompanied the story were enough to make a prostitute blush.

“I will wait for a deputy, then,” Aces said.

“Like hell you will. I do not intend to sit here all day being assaulted by your feet.”

“My what?”

“I know I will regret asking,” Seamus said, “but what is so all-fired important that it can’t wait?”

“It is about Coffin Varnish.”

“Why did I ask?” Seamus spread the newspaper on his desk and leaned on his elbows to read it. “I guess you haven’t heard. There is to be no mention of that wretched excuse for a town in my presence.”

“What do you have against Coffin Varnish?”

“What don’t I?” Seamus retorted. “The mayor’s backbone is in his wife’s body. The saloon owner is drinking his own saloon dry. The town whore is old enough to have been around before the Flood. And the entire population consists of two bean-eaters, a family of pope lovers, and a Swede with less brains than my little toe. Shall I go on?”

“You didn’t mention the notice in the newspaper,” Aces Weaver said. “Inviting folks to go there and kill each other.”

“You had to remind me of that, didn’t you?”

“It is why I am here.”