Slip Gun (11 page)

‘
I’ve
got a new sign for out front that’ll knock Wil—folks bow-legged,’
Lily remarked. The hotel’s just down there. If you have trouble
getting a room, tell the clerk I sent you.’

‘
Will
that help?’ Smith grinned.

‘
What I
know about him, he’ll not dare keep you out,’ the blonde chuckled.
‘After you’ve settled in, mind you come along for a
drink.’

‘
I’ll
be in after I’ve cleaned up and fed,’ Smith promised.

‘
You’ll
come and have supper with me,’ Lily corrected. ‘Unless you’ve got
other arrangements—?’

‘
None
that I know of,’ Smith assured her and, after she had disappeared
into the saloon, walked on in the direction of the Simple
Hotel.

Obtaining a room did not call
for the power of Lil
’s name. Although remarking that the hotel was filling up,
the desk clerk stated that Smith could have accommodation for as
long as he cared to book it. Making his arrangements, the Texan
went up to his quarters, paid off the man who had carried his gear
and tipped the bell-hop who had acted as their guide. Then he made
ready for his visit to Lily’s saloon.

Almost an hour later, washed,
shaved and dressed in clean clothes, Smith walked into the Happy
Bull. Its big main barroom was as elegant and well-equipped as any
he had ever seen. Already a fair-sized crowd of customers was
making use of its drinking or gambling facilities. Gaily-dressed
girls moved amongst the cowhands, farmers, soldiers and townsmen
while the saloon
’s male employees carried out their duties quietly, capably
and in a friendly manner. Everything Smith saw told him that he was
in a well-run place. What he had seen of Lily Shivers had made him
expect to find it that way.

Crossing to the long, shining
bar, Smith could see no sign of Lily. Then he grinned. It
was
loco
to expect her to make an appearance so soon. She would take
longer than a man to freshen up and change.

While waiting for Lily, Smith
fell into conversation with a couple of prosperous-looking
townsmen. He had left his jacket at the hotel, but the rest of his
clothes hinted at his having money. Probably the pair took him for
a Texas rancher and, as such, worth cultivating. From what they had
to say, the man regarded Lily as a woman of ability and integrity.
They also
found considerable amusement in her flouting of conventions
and made laughing comments about how she put a burr under the
‘good’ women of the town’s saddles with her behavior.

Half an hour went by before Lily
made her entrance. When she did, it became obvious to Smith that
the majority of her customers shared the
townsmen
’s
high opinion of her. Her hair had been tidied, face made up, and
she wore a green satin dress which clung to her voluptuous body
like a second skin as she came down the wide staircase from the
first floor.

‘
What’d
you bring back for us from the big city, Lily?’ a man
yelled.

‘
Why,
me?
the blonde answered. ‘What else?’

Excusing himself to the two townsmen, Smith
walked towards the stairs. Another man intercepted Lily before
Smith reached her. Tall, slim, wearing a well-cut brown suit, white
shirt and red necktie, the man would be in his early twenties. His
dark hair had been slicked down with bay rum, but now looked
rumpled, while his handsome face carried an expression of mingled
condescension and indignation.

‘
What’s
all this, Lily?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve lost all my money playing
black-jack and the dealer says he won’t accept my IOU.’

‘
That’s
right,’ the blonde answered calmly, keeping walking. ‘It’s the
house rule, Stanley.’

Shooting out his right hand, the
young man caught hold of Lily
’s left bicep as she went by. Anger flickered on
the blonde’s face. Clenching her right fist in a capable manner,
she swung to face him.

‘
Just
take your cotton-picking hand offen the lady,’ Smith
ordered.

Annoyance glinted on the young
man
’s
handsome face as he looked at the speaker. Clearly he considered
himself to be a person of privilege and authority, who should not
be addressed in such a manner by a stranger. Releasing Lily’s arm,
he stabbed his hand under the left side of his jacket.

‘
Who
the hell do you think you’re talk—?’

‘
Boy!’
Smith cut in, barely louder than at a whisper. ‘Unless that hand
comes straight out and empty, I’ll draw on you. And I never fetch
my gun out unless I’m fixing to kill the man who made me pull
it.’

A hush fell on the tables
nearest to the scene and spread across the room. Smith stood with
his gloved thumbs tucked into his waistband, eyes fixed firmly on
Stanley
’s
face. There was something in the Texan’s gaze which made the young
man look away.

‘
What’s
this, Lily?’ Stanley hissed, bringing his empty right hand into
view. ‘Have you started fetching in-—’

‘
If
you’re fixing to say what I figure you are,’ Smith interrupted in
the same flat, yet savage voice. ‘Don’t.’

‘
If you
want broke money, Stanley—’ Lily began.

‘
I
don’t want, nor need, your charity!’ the young man blazed, then
spun on his heel and stamped out of the building.

‘
Who
was that?’ Smith inquired, as talk rose all around and the various
activities of the customers resumed.

‘
Stanley Jeffreys,’ the blonde replied, a mocking smile
twisting at her lips. ‘Our esteemed mayor’s younger
brother.’

‘
Come
this
way, please, Mr. Smith,’ requested the lanky,
miserable-featured bank teller with an air of solemn
politeness.

The time was ten
o
’clock on
the morning after Smith’s arrival in Widow’s Creek and he had come
to interview his prospective employer.

After Stanley
Jeffreys
’
departure, the Texan had spent an enjoyable evening at the Happy
Bull saloon. Receiving no other introduction than ‘Mr. Wax Smith of
Texas,’ he had been accepted by the other customers. In fact, he
had been accorded their respect when it had become obvious that he
was regarded favorably by Lily Shivers. Although he had heard
plenty about the various sporting and social events proposed for
the forthcoming county fair, he had received no hint of why the
mayor might require his specialized services.

When Smith had suggested that
Wil Jeffreys might come and complain about the disrespect shown to
his younger brother, there had been much hilarity. He had been
assured that the mayor would never think of entering a saloon.
Wishing to avoid arousing Lily
’s suspicions, Smith had let the matter drop.
Probably Jeffreys belonged to one of the religious sects which
disapproved of drinking and other pleasures connected with saloons.
Putting off further attempts at obtaining information about the
mayor, Smith had settled down to enjoy himself.

Having spent a comfortable night
at the Simple Hotel, Smith had risen late. He had breakfasted, made
use of the hotel
’s barber’s shop and, neatly-dressed and clean-shaven, set
off to meet the mayor. Remembering that Wil Jeffreys was also the
banker, he had called in at the bank. On seeing the telegraph
message which had brought him to Wyoming, the teller
had hurried into a
room with ‘W.S.P. JEFFREYS. President’
inscribed on its door.

Going through the gate in the
front office
’s dividing rail, Smith wondered what kind of reception he
would receive from the banker. If Brother Stanley had gone home
tale-telling and described Lily’s protector, Jeffreys would
probably identify Smith as that man. In view of the enmity between
the banker and Lily, he might even decide against hiring the Texan.
In which case, Smith decided, he would be justified in retaining
his advance payment.

Entering the bank
president
’s
spacious, comfortably furnished office, Smith found another reason,
besides religious objections, why Wil Jeffreys would not go into a
saloon. Looking across the large desk which faced the door, he
flashed up his right hand to remove his hat.

‘
Well,
Mr. Smith,’ said the mayor of Widow’s Creek. ‘Now that you have
seen me, do you object to being hired by a woman?’

Coal-black hair, taken back
tight into an unattractive bun, could not wipe away the beauty of
Wilhemina Jeffreys
’ face. She had schooled her classic features into an
expression of coldly serious aspect, but they were tanned and
glowed with health. An unadorned black Basque-waist jacket, as
severe as a martinet Army officer’s regulation tunic, a plain white
blouse, and a black balmoral skirt fought to conceal the fact that
feminine curves lay underneath them. Yet Smith sensed that the
garments hid something most women would, secretly anyway, wish to
possess; a figure as rich, full and voluptuous as Lily Shivers’
gorgeous frame. Clean, strong hands devoid of jewelry and with the
nails cut short, rested on the top of the desk. Brown eyes looked
from behind gold-rimmed spectacles, examining the Texan with as
much interest as he studied her.

‘
Well,’
Wil Jeffreys went on, after a moment. ‘Do you?’

‘
Why
should I?’ Smith countered. ‘Do you print your own
money?’

‘
I beg
your pardon!’ Wil ejaculated, snapping her gaze from his gloves to
the bronzed, unsmiling face.

‘
Lady,’
Smith drawled. ‘As long as you pay in good ol’ United States
dollars, I don’t care whether it’s a woman or a man who hires
me.’

Once more Wi
l’s eyes flashed over Smith.
There was nothing of a woman looking at a man in her scrutiny, any
more than he found any sign of femininity in the office. While
well- and comfortably-furnished, the room was clearly a place in
which men conducted business. There were neither flowers on the
desk, nor dainty drapes at the windows; nothing to suggest that the
mayor and bank president belonged to the weaker sex.

‘
Sit
down, please,’ Wil said and it came as an order despite the third
word. Pushing across a cigar box, she went on, ‘You may smoke if
you wish.’

‘
Gracias,’
Smith replied, taking a cigar from the box and crackling it
between his left thumb and second finger.

‘
You
approve?’ Wil inquired as he bit off the end of the cigar and lit
it with the candle of the match-case fastened to the
box.

‘
It’s a
good cigar. My mother knew good tobacco and always used to pick
cigars for pappy.’

‘
But,
disregarding my choice of cigars, you’re surprised to find out I’m
a woman?’

‘
Some,’
Smith admitted.

‘
You
believe that a woman’s place should be in the home?’ Wil
challenged.

‘
Happen
I’d ever given thought to it,’ Smith drawled, ‘I’d say she’d know
best where she should be. And what she’s best suited to
doing.’

‘
That’s
male condescension.’

‘
I
thought it makes good sense. Happen a woman can’t cook, sew and
tend to a wife’s chores, she’d be better off out of the
home.’

Stiffening on her hard,
straight-backed chair, Wil sucked in a deep breath. She took off
her glasses, glared at Smith and said,
‘I’m a very good cook and I make or
mend my clothes when the need arises, quite adequately
too.’

‘
I’m
not gainsaying it, ma’am,’ the Texan replied.

‘
Let’s
get down to business!’ Wil suggested haughtily. ‘I understand that
you are an experienced peace officer, loyal to your employers,
tactful and capable.’

‘
I
couldn’t’ve put it better myself.’

‘
These
are facts, Mr. Smith, not compliments. You also have a reputation
for direct action, considerable skill in handling
weapons and
people—and no exaggerated ideas of the sanctity of human
life.’

‘
If
that means I’m willing to kill anybody who looks like he aims to
kill me, it’s a fact, not a compliment,’ Smith answered. ‘Maybe
you’d best tell me what I’m here for.’

‘
Does
it matter?’ Wil asked, laying her spectacles on the desk. ‘I
thought you would take any work if the price was right.’

‘
Only
if it doesn’t involve heavy toting—and’s legal ‘n’
honest.’

‘
That
pays you back for riling me about a woman’s place,’ Wil
smiled.

That smile changed her own face and showed
its full beauty. Then it went as quickly as it had come, leaving
the cold, impassive mask.