“If not for the smell, we could have had those four on display until they rotted away,” Chester said.
“Smell and rot sort of go hand in hand,” Winifred commented.
Jokingly, Chester declared, “It is too bad we don’t know where Jeeter Frost got to or we could invite him back to kill someone else.”
Adolphina was thoughtfully fingering the tin. At her husband’s comment, she swiveled around and said, “That is an idea worth pursuing.”
“I was kidding, dearest.”
“I wasn’t.”
Winifred and the rest all looked at Chester, who shrugged and shook his head.
“The first time was a fluke. We can’t have people shot down on a regular basis,” he said.
“Why not?” Adolphina demanded. “Think of how much money we could make. People would come from all over the territory, not just Dodge. We could make five hundred dollars a month. Maybe a thousand.”
“Have you been drinking?” Win asked.
“This be joke, ja?” Dolph said.
Adolphina ignored them. “I have given it a lot of thought. The possibilities are appealing.”
Placido had removed his sombrero when he entered the store. Now he wagged it at her, saying, “What do you propose, senorita?”
“That we place notices in as many newspapers as we can with the money we have left,” Adolphina said. “We will invite every badman, curly wolf, and gun shark who is so inclined to come to Coffin Varnish and settle their differences.”
“That is insane,” Win said. “We wouldn’t be able to step outside for all the lead flying around.”
Adolphina enlightened him. “Not if we arrange it so they only shoot each other at specific times of the day. We will charge for the privilege, then charge for people to view the losers. That way we make money at both ends. Lots and lots of money.”
“My God. You are serious!”
“Never more so,” Adolphina said. “It is high time Coffin Varnish lived up to its name. If, in the process, we make a lot of money, where is the harm?
“You can’t spend money if you are dead,” Winifred said. “No one has ever done anything as harebrained as this. Forget it, for all our sakes, or calamity will come calling.”
Adolphina smiled. “Let us place the notice in the newspaper and find out.”
Chapter 10
Undersheriff Seamus Glickman was good and mad. He had not minded—at least not that much—being forced to leave Dodge the first time. Shooting affrays happened all the time in Ford County. They were to be taken as a matter of course. But this! He got so mad thinking about it that he swore at his horse for no reason. Then his head snapped up.
Coffin Varnish had appeared up ahead.
Seamus glumly wished the earth would open up and swallow the whole damn town. He parted his jacket and patted the ivory handles of his Merwin and Hulbert revolver. For two bits he would shoot the whole bunch of them. Idiots, he fumed, the whole kit and caboodle.
Mad as he was, Seamus made for the saloon rather than the general store. As usual, Win Curry sat in the shade of the overhang, and greeted him with a smile.
“Good morning, Sheriff Glickman. How do you do this fine day?”
“Don’t how do you do me,” Seamus snapped, dismounting. “What in hell has gotten into you people? Did the whole population get drunk on your red-eye?”
“Uh-oh,” Win said.
Seamus opened his saddlebags and took out the latest edition of the Dodge City Times. He walked under the overhang and shook the folded newspaper practically in the saloon owner’s face. “Was this your idea or some other lunatic’s?”
“I warned them it would not go over well,” Win said. “But they never listen to me.”
“They being the good mayor and his wife?” Seamus guessed.
“You are a genius or as close to one as I will ever meet.”
“Save your humor for someone who will appreciate it.” Seamus spun and stalked toward the general store. “They might not have listened to you, but they will by God listen to me. I am here to put a stop to this nonsense.”
Win was out of his chair and caught up within a few strides. “Mind if I tag along? Coffin Varnish is mighty short on entertainment and this promises to be a humdinger.”
Seamus spied the two Mexicans over by the livery. The polite one, Placido, smiled and touched the brim of his sombrero, but Seamus did not return the gesture. For all he knew, those two were in on it. Hadn’t they displayed the original bodies in their livery?
“You have met Adolphina, haven’t you?” Win asked, knowing full well that Glickman had.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Seamus growled.
“I want you to be prepared. I am on your side.”
Seamus stopped and faced him. “Why? You live here. I should think you would be all for it.”
“I am all for breathing,” Win said. “Let me put it another way. If the wolves in the area go rabid, you don’t invite them to your house for supper or you will be the main course.”
“I could not have said it better myself,” Seamus admitted. He shook the newspaper again. “Didn’t you try to reason with them? Didn’t you impress on them the sheer folly of their enterprise?”
“At the town council meeting I talked until I was blue in the face,” Win informed him.
“And? What effect did you have?”
“The same effect as talking to trees.”
Seamus moved on. “I, by God, will have an effect. The sheriff is fit to burst a vein. Other newspapers will pick up on it. Before long Coffin Varnish will be the laughingstock of the state.” He was almost to the general store when the door opened and a smiling Chester Luce filled the doorway.
“Sheriff Glickman! How wonderful to see you again.”
Thrusting the newspaper at him, Seamus snapped, “How would you like this shoved up your backside?”
“I take it this is not a social call?” Chester said. He had seen Glickman enter town and could tell how furious he was. The newspaper hinted why. But Chester refused to be intimidated. He thought of Adolphina, and the money they would make. All that wonderful money.
“Don’t play the innocent with me,” Seamus said. “You will explain yourself, and it had better be good.”
“Wouldn’t you care to come in and discuss this over refreshments rather than stand out here in the hot sun?” Chester asked.
“The sun be damned. Explain. Explain right now.”
Chester continued to think of the money, only the money. It gave him the fortitude to say, “Perhaps you would be so kind as to make clear exactly why you are upset?”
By now Seamus was so mad he came close to punching Coffin Varnish’s mayor in the nose. Containing his anger, he unfolded the newspaper and opened it to the advertisements. He cleared his throat. “Public Notice,” he read, louder than he needed to. “The town of Coffin Varnish hereby serves notice that as of this date, anyone with a grudge is invited to come to Coffin Varnish and settle their differences howsoever they may choose. Shootings will be allowed under town sanction at specified times of the day, provided a permit is obtained. A burial fee is also required, should it prove necessary.” Seamus stopped and glared at the mayor.
“Is there a problem?” Chester asked.
“I’m not done.” Seamus read the last line, his voice a snarl. “All badmen, curly wolves, leather slappers, pistoleros, feudists, and shootists are cordially invited to Coffin Varnish to hash out their differences.” He crumpled the newspaper and shook it. “Have you gone out of your mind?”
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in something to drink?”