"You took your own time about coming," grunted Rafe Tuckleton.
Dan Slike crossed his knees and stared at Rafe and Skinny Shindle. "I
always take my own time," said he, in a voice as blank and
expressionless as his ice-blue eyes. "Why hurry?"
"Because you should have hurried," nagged Rafe. "Y'oughta come when I
wrote you last summer. This Tom Walton has gone on living all fall,
and here it is January and he ain't dead yet."
"That's tough," sympathized Mr. Slike and wagged a belying foot.
Skinny Shindle, looking somewhat worried, went to the door, opened it
and looked out into the short hall. Satisfied that the breed cook was
busy in the kitchen, he closed the door and returned to his chair.
"It's worse'n that. Tom ain't the only li'l job I want you to attend
to. There's the sheriff, Billy Wingo."
"That will be extra."
"Extra?"
"You haven't any idea I'm gonna do two jobs for the price of one, have
you?"
"Well----"
"Well, nothin'. I ain't in the business for my health, you can gamble
on that. If you're looking for charity, you're roping at the wrong
horse."
"No, no, nothing like that," Rafe hastened to say. "I'll do whatever's
right and fair. You can trust me."
Dan Slike shook a slow head. An amused twinkle lightened those blank
eyes. "Oh, yes," he said. "I'm almost sure I can trust you. Yeah.
Almost."
"What do you mean?" blustered Rafe Tuckleton.
"Folks I talk to don't generally need any dictionary," said Slike.
"Huh," grunted Rafe, content to let it go at that. "Anyway, you'll be
well paid."
"I didn't come alla way from the Jornada just to hear you say I'd be
well paid. Your 'well paid' and my 'well paid' might be two different
things. Sometimes you and I don't talk the same language."
Rafe Tuckleton considered a moment. "Five hundred dollars apiece for
Tom and the sheriff," said he, looking at Slike from beneath lowered
eyebrows.
"We'll bargain for 'em separately," said Slike. "One thousand for Tom,
payable in advance."
"No," denied Rafe. "Too much."
"Aw right," assented Slike cheerfully. "I'll be pulling my freight for
New Mexico to-morrow. What you gonna have for dinner?"
"Let's talk it over. One thousand dollars is a lot of money for a li'l
job like rubbing out Tom Walton."
"If it's a li'l job, why don't you attend to it yourself?"
"Oh, I can't. Impossible. Why, man, consider my position."
"Sure, I understand. You'd rather live than have Tom Walton kill you.
Don't know that I blame you, Rafe. You always were a sensible jasper."
Slike's eyes dwelt on Rafe's face with tolerant contempt. The red
color of Rafe's leathery cheeks was not entirely due to the heat of the
cannon-ball stove. No.
"I'm not a gunfighter," disclaimed Rafe quickly. "Never was. That's
your job."
"And I am a gunfighter. Always was. And it's my job. And I intend to
get my price for my job. One thousand in advance, or the deal's off."
"I'm not a rich man," protested Rafe. "I lack ready money. So does
Mr. Shindle here. Say five hundred now and the rest in the spring."
"I know how rich you are," said Slike. "And I can make a fair guess
how you and Mr. Shindle stand for ready money. You can raise the
thousand without too much trouble, I guess. Anyhow, it goes."
"You drive a hard bargain."
"A man in my business can't afford to be squeamish." As Slike spoke
his eyes narrowed.
"But----"
"No buts. You want Walton killed----"
"Sh-h! Not so loud," cautioned Skinny Shindle. "Removed is a better
word than killed, anyway."
"Aw, hell," sneered Dan Slike, "you make me sick. I've got no use for
a jigger that don't call a cow by its right name. I dunno the first
thing about removing. But I'll kill anybody you say. I ain't a bit
particular. Not a bit." Here Slike bent on Skinny Shindle the full
measure of a most baleful regard.
The strangely squeamish Shindle strove manfully to stare down the other
man, but dropped his eyes within the minute. This appeared to please
Mr. Slike. He smiled crookedly and turned his attention to Tuckleton.
"Rafe," said he, "my time is money. I can't stand here higgle-hoggling
with you from hell to breakfast. One thousand, or you get somebody
else to do the job."
"I suppose I'll have to do as you say," Rafe grumbled. "And the same
amount for the sheriff."
"Not-a-tall," denied Slike. "Not a-tall. Do you think I'm gonna rub
out a sheriff for a thousand cases? You must have mush for a brain!
Killing a rancher is a short hoss, but a sheriff is another breed of
cat. Besides, he's got two deputies, to say nothing of the feelings of
the county. Killing this sheriff for you means I gotta leave the
county on the jump. Do you think I'm gonna run the risk of being
lynched for a measly thousand dollars? If you do, take another think.
Take two of 'em! Me, I'll take two thousand for your man."
"Two thousand dollars for simply shooting a sheriff?"
"Again lemme remark that if the business was as simple as you say it
is, you'd do it yourself. Two thousand in advance."
"But that's three thousand in all."
"You're a wonder at arithmetic. I make three thousand too."
"But look here, Dan, we----"
"I'm looking," interrupted Slike, "and three thousand dollars is all I
can see. You gotta expect to pay for your mistakes, Rafe. If you
didn't want to have this sheriff hold office, what did you elect him
for? You told me your political outfit was responsible."
"How could we tell he'd turn out this way? We took it for granted he'd
do what the party wanted, and the first card out of the box he appoints
his own deputies."
"Good men with a gun?"
"Both of 'em," Rafe nodded absently.
"Wingo's no slouch himself," Shindle supplied without thinking.
"And that's the kind of bunch you want me to go up against for a
thousand dollars!" exclaimed Dan Slike. "You fellers sure have your
nerve!"
Slike teetered his chair back on two legs and laughed loudly, but
without cheer. Rafe and Skinny found themselves somewhat chilled by
the sardonic merriment. They looked one upon the other. Slike caught
the look and laughed anew.
"You're a fine pair," he said loudly, "a fine pair. Letting a
two-by-four sheriff run you. Ha-ha, it's a joke!"
"You go slow, you hear!" directed Skinny Shindle.
Dan Slike's eyes slid round to survey Skinny. "Me go slow?" he
drawled, "Who'll make me? You? Not you or Rafe either. Wanna know
why? Because I'm the best man in the room, that's why. Wanna argue
the matter?"
Apparently neither Skinny nor Rafe cared to argue. At least they made
no audible reply to the challenge.
Dan Slike nodded a satisfied head. "Now that's settled, let's go back
to business. About that three thousand--yes or no?"
Skinny looked at Rafe. Rafe looked at Skinny. Skinny shook his head.
Rafe nodded his. Dan Slike, missing nothing of the byplay, smiled
delightedly. His thin lips curled into a crooked sneer.
"There seems to be a difference of opinion," said Dan Slike. "Give it
a name."
"Three thousand is too much," averred Skinny Shindle.
"You'll only have to pay half of it," said Rafe.
"But this payment in advance--I don't like it," objected Skinny Shindle.
Dan Slike's boots came down from the table. They came down with a
certain amount of speed, yet curiously enough they made not the
slightest noise as soles and heels struck the floor. Dan Slike's chair
creaked as his body turned ever so slightly sidewise.
"Shindle," said he softly, "you ain't thinking I wouldn't keep my part
of the bargain if I take your money, are you?"
"No, oh, no," Skinny reassured him hastily. "Of course you would."
"This being so," pursued Dan Slike, "what's the difference whether you
pay me now or later?"
"Why, none," admitted Skinny, finding himself fairly cornered. "None
whatever. I--we will pay you what you ask."
"Spoken like a li'l man," fleered Dan Slike, and switched his gaze to
Tuckleton's face. "Second the motion, Rafe?"
"On one condition."
"Let's have it?"
"You finish both jobs within thirty days."
"No, not thirty days, old-timer, nor yet forty-five. Sixty."
"Thirty."
"Sixty days from to-night and the three thousand dollars, half gold,
half bills, in my pocket by noon to-morrow."
"Oh, hell, all right!" Rafe cried, tossing up helpless hands. "Come
around here to-morrow noon and get your money."
Dan Slike nodded. "Guess I'll be going, Rafe--No, nemmine dinner, I
ain't hungry now."