Medicine Show Read online

  At that moment, Naomi heard someone ride up. She closed her reticule and walked over to the door, wondering if Lawton had arrived.

  * * *

  Coy Wilson, not Stump rode into the clearing.

  Sam and Ben were sitting on the porch, silvered by the moonlight like two statues in a graveyard. If Wilson hadn't known better, he might have thought they had not moved since he had seen them earlier that day.

  "Howdy boys," he said when he got near the porch.

  "Howdy, Coy," Ben said. Sam didn't say anything.

  "How'd things turn out at that medicine show?" Wilson said. He had no idea what the two men might say or do. They had not displayed good judgment at the medicine show, that much was for certain, and Wilson was no longer sure that he could predict their reactions to anything with certainty.

  "Sixty-three dollars," Sam said. "Sixty-three damn dollars, Coy. That ain't much."

  "I thought it'd be more," Wilson said. He had, too, having seen the prices on the handbill, but he hadn't known that the Colonel always gave away the Vitality Pills.

  "Sixty-three dollars," Sam said again. "That ain't much to go to Kansas on, Coy."

  "You've got a lot more than sixty-three dollars put away somewhere," Wilson said. "We've taken a lot more than that out of this town."

  Naomi wondered about that and looked back at the room. One thing was for sure, and that was that the Hawkinses weren't spending a lot of money on themselves or their house. There wasn't much place to hide anything in the room, and she began to wonder where the money might be. She thought it might be a good idea to take it with her when the sheriff rescued her. Many of the people in town would appreciate it, and maybe even Lawton would think more of her.

  She was mildly disappointed that Lawton had not shown up, but it was probably better that the sheriff had come. It was his job, anyway. But if he was working with the Hawkins brothers, would he really try to save her?

  Nobody was thinking about her at the moment, however, so she forgot her fear and decided to look for the money. She would start with the shelf.

  Outside, Wilson was still trying to find out where he stood with the Hawkinses. He was sitting relaxed in his saddle, one hand holding the reins, the other not far from the pistol on his hip.

  "You boys caused quite a ruckus out at that show tonight," he said.

  "I guess we did, at that," Sam said.

  "Killed a man," Wilson said.

  Sam smiled. "Is that a fact. Hell, I thought it was two of them, Coy." He laughed, and Ben joined in.

  "You're not the shot you were at one time, I guess," Wilson said. He wasn't laughing. "There wasn't any call to kill anybody."

  "Wasn't any call not to," Sam said. Hell, it looked to him like Coy was getting soft in his old age. Maybe being a sheriff had started to affect his mind.

  "Yeah," Ben said. "Wasn't any call not to. You startin' to fall in love with the sweethearts that live in this town, Coy?"

  "It's not that," Wilson said. "It's just that I don't hold with killin' somebody who's not even shootin' at you."

  "Don't recall you ever feelin' that way before, Coy," Sam said. "Don't recall that kid you ran down back up in Kansas shootin' at you, either."

  "Damn you," Wilson said. "That was an accident."

  "Accident or not, don't make no difference. It all works out the same," Sam said.

  Coy was tired of the argument. "You're right, it don't make no difference now. All that matters is now is that it's time for you and Ben to light a shuck from here. Go on back to Kansas. We've milked this business for all it's worth."

  "Well, now," Sam said. "Does that mean you ain't goin' with us, Coy?"

  "I guess it does," Wilson said.

  "Sure," Sam said. "You come out here, we leave, and ever'body thinks you're some kinda hero. Well, I don't think it's gonna work out exactly that way, Coy."

  "Yeah," Ben said. "It ain't gonna work out exactly that way. See, Sam and me, we got us somethin' more than money out at that show tonight."

  Wilson had been wondering when they were going to get around to that.

  "Got you woman, I hear," he said.

  "That's right," Sam said. "Ben, he wanted to take her and I didn't see any reason why not."

  "You might've thought about how folks in town would feel about it," Wilson said.

  "Hell, we don't care about that," Sam said. "Do we, Ben?"

  "Hell, no," Ben said, laughing.

  "I think you're gonna have to give her up, boys," Wilson said.

  "Thought you might say that," Sam told him. "We ain't plannin' to do it, though."

  In the shack, Naomi was at the door listening again. She had already found the money. It had been in the flour sack, and she had begun to think how happy everyone would be when it was returned to them. Now she was afraid again. It seemed as if the sheriff were on her side, but Sam and Ben were not about to give in to him.

  "Boys," Wilson said, "we've rode some hard trails together and done a sight of things. Hell, we've seen the elephant. I'd hate to see us get off on the wrong foot about this woman."

  "I never thought I'd see you go soft, Coy," Sam said. "I just never thought it."

  "I ain't gone soft. I've just got some sense, finally, and if you had any you'd see I'm tellin' you the truth. I got to take the woman back, Sam."

  Ben looked at his brother. "We ain't gonna let him, are we, Sam?" He didn't want to let the woman go. He had plans for the woman.

  "No, Ben," Sam said. He wasn't smiling any more. "We ain't gonna let him."

  * * *

  Ray Storey had thought it would be easy to find the place where the Hawkins brothers lived, having gotten what he thought were pretty fair directions from the bartender that morning, but he wasn't familiar with the territory. He had skirted the town, and he was sure he was going in the right direction, but he hadn't been able to find the house.

  Besides that, someone was following him.

  He rode off the trail and into a stand of pine trees and waited quietly in the shadows. He could smell the bracing scent of the pines and hear bugs buzzing around his head. Off in the distance a mockingbird sang sleepily.

  It wasn't long before The Boozer came along on Sunny. Storey could hear him talking to the mule.

  "He went right along here," The Boozer said. "I saw him just a minute ago. We can't let him get away from us, Sunny."

  Storey came out of the trees. "What are you doing here, Dr. Stuartson?" he said.

  If Stuartson was surprised, he didn't show it. "Sunny and I were having a philosophical discussion," he said.

  "It didn't sound too philosophical to me," Storey said. "It sounded like you were looking for somebody, most likely me."

  "True, we were doing that, too," Stuartson said without apology. "We thought you might need some help when you got where you were going."

  "And where might that be?" Storey thought as soon as he said it that he sounded just like that preacher he'd met in town, but it was too late to take it back.

  "Looking for redemption," Stuartson said.

  Storey could see The Boozer's eyes in the moonlight, and they were clear and sober. He didn't ask the doctor how he knew.

  "I thought I might find some for myself," Stuartson added.

  "Well, come on, then," Storey said. "I think the place I'm looking for is right around here. You might get shot, though. Those were some pretty rough fellas we met tonight."

  "I'm not worried about getting shot," Stuartson said in a voice that seemed to imply he might welcome it. "Lead on."

  It was just about then that the shooting began.

  "Let's go," Storey said, setting his heels to his horse's ribs. The Boozer followed after him as fast as Sunny would go. Less than a quarter of a mile behind them, the Reverend Stump flicked the reins to urge his own horse to go faster, and the little buggy jumped ahead, dust pluming up into the moonlight from beneath its wheels. Stump thought he recognized the young man from the medicine show, but he wasn't sure who t
he other one was. Clearly, they were headed for the Hawkins place, which was where the shooting seemed to be coming from.

  Stump tried to pray again, but he still received no comfort.

  He reached down and touched the gun in his belt.

  That made him feel better immediately.

  * * *

  Wilson should have seen it coming, but he didn't, not until it was too late. Ben and Sam both went for their guns at the same time, almost as if some signal had passed between them; but if it did, Wilson didn't see it.

  One second they were sitting there, the moonlight slanting across them on the porch, and the next they were coming to their feet with their pistols drawn.

  Wilson's horse reared as the first two shots were fired, causing the bullets to pass harmlessly by, and by then Wilson had his own pistol out.

  Flame spurted from both the Hawkinses' guns before Wilson got off a shot. He jumped as if he'd been kicked by a mule as a bullet slammed into his shoulder, and his own shot went wild, crashing through the front wall of the cabin.

  Naomi screamed and dropped to the floor, and the cat jumped up and ran under the table.

  Wilson felt himself sliding off his horse, but he got off another shot before he fell. He didn't hit anyone that time, either. As soon as he hit the ground, he struggled to his feet and brought his gun up.

  He didn't fire it. A bullet slapped into his side and spun him around. This time it was worse than a horse kicking. There was no pain, but it felt as if the jail had fallen on him. He fell again, and this time he didn't get up.

  His horse walked a little way off to the side and stood there as if wondering what to do next.

  Smoke swirled around the heads of the Hawkins brothers as they cleared spent cartridges from the cylinders of their pistols.

  "Hate it that we had to kill old Coy like that," Ben said as he reloaded. "He was a good pardner till he got biggety with us about leavin' here." He looked out toward where Wilson lay and shook his head with regret. "Seems like we oughta do somethin' with him, not just leave him lyin' out there like that damn terrapin. It don't seem right, somehow."

  "He won't care if we leave him there a while," Sam said. "We got other things to do." He gave a nod toward the door.

  Ben's face lightened. His momentary sadness at shooting his former partner making an instant departure.

  "Damn," he said. "When the shootin' started, I near 'bout forgot that woman. Who's gonna be first."

  Sam was feeling generous. "It was your idea to bring her. I guess you deserve first chance."

  "That's mighty square of you, Sam," Ben said. He turned toward the door.

  The shooting had terrified Naomi, but after finding herself still alive after the bullet splintered the wall near her, she recovered quickly. She decided that she had best prepare herself for the worst, since there were two Hawkins brothers and only one sheriff. She didn't think that the sheriff had much of a chance.

  She still hadn't quite figured out why the Hawkinses would want to kill the man they had worked with, though it seemed that he was trying to change for the better and send them on their way. Maybe that was it, but it didn't make any difference. She knew that once they were finished with the sheriff, they would be coming for her.

  The trouble was that there didn't seem to be anything in the room to use as a weapon.

  She looked around almost desperately. The chairs appeared flimsy, but when she tried, she found that she could not dismantle either of them. Almost as soon as she got her hands on them, the shooting stopped.

  That left her with only one choice. She didn't want to do it, but it looked like her only chance.

  "Damn that Stump Lawton," she said. Her husband would have been surprised to hear her curse him, she knew, but he should have been there by now.

  The door swung open just as she picked up the cat.

  It was hard to say which was more surprised, Ben or the cat that Naomi flung in his face.

  Maybe the cat, since Naomi had shown it a bit of emotional warmth, something she had definitely not shown Ben.

  The cat yowled as it flew through the air, claws extended. Only Ben's thick beard and hair saved him from an even more painful experience than the one he had as the cat scratched for a purchase on his head.

  Ben bellowed and stumbled backward out the door and onto the porch, right into Sam, who had stood up to see what the hell was the matter.

  Both men tottered on the edge of the porch, trying to balance themselves. They might have succeeded if Naomi had not pushed them.

  She came dashing out the door as fast as she could run in her skirts and petticoats, clutching her reticule and the flour sack to her chest. When she saw Ben and Sam, she risked the reticule by flinging it outward, still holding onto the drawstring.

  The reticule caught Ben a glancing blow on the temple, and not a very hard blow at that, but it was enough to overbalance him and Sam.

  They toppled off the porch and landed on the hard ground, Ben smack on top of Sam, who had the breath knocked out of him in a loud gust.

  The cat, which had clung to Ben's face throughout, sprang off and bowed its back, hissing and striking at Ben's beard with one of its front paws. Then it ran under the porch.

  Naomi jumped off the porch just as the cat went under it. She started across the yard, holding her reticule and the flour sack in her right hand and hiking her skirts with her left.

  Ben leaped off Sam and drew his pistol.

  He was cocking the hammer when Storey and The Boozer pounded into the yard, followed closely by Lawton Stump in his buggy.

  12

  Astonishingly, the Reverend Stump was the only one of the three men coming into the yard who had drawn a pistol.

  The Boozer did not have a gun, however, so he had an excuse. Ray Storey did not.

  Stump pulled back on the reins with his left hand. The horse planted its feet and came to a sudden stop, the buggy skidding sideways as Stump got off his first shot. The bullet whizzed over Ben's head and into the trees.

  The sheriff's horse bolted in the midst of the excitement and ran behind the house, dragging its reins.

  Ben's return shot was more accurate than Stump's, but not by much. It clipped a chunk out of the side of the buggy and sent it flying.

  Sam was getting to his feet, drawing his own gun.

  Storey headed his horse right at him, never slowing down.

  Storey flashed by as Sam threw himself aside, landing on the porch and skidding to the doorway. Splinters dug into the soles of his palms.

  "Goddamn!" he yelled.

  Naomi sprinted across the yard toward her husband while The Boozer calmly dismounted to see what, if anything, he could do for the fallen sheriff.

  Naomi was almost to the buggy now. Stump fired over her head. The bullet went straight through the open door of the shack and exploded a can of tomatoes on the shelf. He fired again, sending a bullet into the door frame.

  "Goddamn!" Sam yelled again. He crawled inside and slammed the door, right in the face of Ben, who was trying to get inside. The latch caught and held.

  Ben hardly slowed. He turned and jumped off the end of the porch, heading for the ramshackle lean-to where he and Sam kept their horses.

  He was hardly past the window when Sam jumped out right behind him.

  "She took the goddamn money!" Sam said.

  Ben didn't care. All he wanted to do right now was to get to the horses.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Wilson's horse near the lean-to. He veered off toward it.

  The horse was still spooked, but though it danced back a step or two, it did not flee as Sam neared it. Sam grabbed the reins and saddle horn and swung himself onto the horse's back. He kicked the horse in the ribs and sped into the trees, leaning forward on the horse's neck.

  Ben watched his brother go. "Son of a bitch, Sam," he said. "Don't run off and leave me."

  Storey rounded the house, still not having drawn his pistol. Ben snapped off a quick shot a
t him and jumped on his own horse. He wrapped his arms around its neck and took off, his rear end bouncing up and down. Ben yelped all the way into the trees as tender parts of his anatomy came into contact with the horse's backbone.

  Storey watched him go, knowing that he should go after him, but telling himself that it wouldn't do any good. The Hawkinses knew the lay of the land, and he didn't. They would likely ambush him and kill him before he got a half mile.

  Anyway, even if he hadn't drawn his pistol, at least he hadn't been afraid to ride right at one of the Hawkinses, coming close to riding him down. He only wished that he had succeeded. There would have been a kind of justice in that.

  He turned back to see if everyone else was all right.

  * * *

  Wilson was still alive.

  He had been shot once in the shoulder and once in the side, but neither bullet had struck any vital organs.

  There were thin clouds scudding across the face of the moon now, and Wilson's face was a pallid gray in the intermittent light. Storey could see the slight rise and fall of the sheriff's chest.

  "Didn't get 'em, did I?" he said as Storey rode up.

  "I don't believe so," The Boozer told him. He looked up at Storey. "Did he?"

  "No," Storey said. "They got away."

  The Boozer didn't say anything, but it was obvious that he was wondering why Storey had not fired on them.

  Storey wondered too. He simply hadn't been able to do it. Even the preacher had been able to shoot, but not Storey.

  To add further to Storey's humiliation, The Boozer seemed to have regained a measure of his own confidence. He was examining Wilson's wounds as best he could under the circumstances, his hands moving with an assurance that Storey had never before seen in them.

  The Reverend Stump had gotten out of his wagon, and his wife was clinging to him.

  "Oh, Lawton," she said. "I didn't know that you were so brave."

  Stump, for his part, looked a bit amazed himself. He looked down at the gun in his hand and put it in his buggy. His wife was clutching him too closely to allow him to stick it back into his belt.

  "Oh, Lawton," Naomi said as the thought struck her. "I got the money. I got all the money."