Doc got down on the floor beside Billy Ray and, gingerly, ran his hand over the bump on Billy Ray’s head.
“How is he, Doc?” Evans called from behind the bar.
“He’s all right. He’d going to have a headache, but he’s all right.”
Brandon grabbed his hat. “If nobody objects, I think I’ll leave before Billy Ray comes to.”
“I’ll join you,” Doc said, following the newspaper editor to the door, then outside.
Pearlie stepped up to the bar. The bartender was standing at the far end, and he stood there for a moment longer before he moved down.
“You might want to leave, too, while you’ve still got the chance,” the bartender said.
“Why is that?”
“Billy Ray ain’t goin’ to be too pleasant when he comes to.”
“Well, maybe I can make friends with him,” Pearlie said easily. “But for now, I’d like another beer please, Mr. Evans,” Pearlie said, remembering the bartender’s name. “I’m afraid my other one got spilled in the ruckus.”
“I’ll get the beer, but mister, my advice to you is to drink it quick, then ride on out of town.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll just do that.”
“What’s your name, mister?” one of the others in the bar asked.
Pearlie waited until the beer was put in front of him. Then he picked it up, took a swallow, and wiped some of the foam off his lips before he turned to face his questioner.
“Folks call me Pearlie,” Pearlie said pleasantly. “And you are?”
“Kelly, Jerry Kelly. I work at the Tumbling Q. And the reason I asked your name is, I was just wonderin’ what name to tell the undertaker to put on your tombstone, is all.”
“Well, I appreciate your concern, Mr. Kelly, but I don’t figure on that bein’ any part of your problem,” Pearlie replied. “After I finish my beer, I plan to be on my way.”
“You better drink fast then. You got ’ny idea who that fella is that you just riled?”
“Isn’t his name Billy Ray?”
“That’s right. Billy Ray. Quentin,” he added pointedly.
“Yeah, he said that, too.”
“Don’t that name mean anything to you?”
“He tried to tell me he was someone important,” Pearlie said easily. “I know I did see the name a few times as I was ridin’ into town.”
“A few times? Pogue Quentin damn near owns the whole town, plus one of the biggest ranches in the state,” Kelly said.
“Pogue Quentin?”
“Yeah, that’s Billy Ray’s pa. And he ain’t one to get riled.”
“Well, Mr. Kelly, I didn’t rile Pogue Quentin,” Pearlie said easily. “I riled his son.”
At that moment, Billy Ray regained consciousness. Getting up groggily, he looked around the room and, seeing Pearlie standing at the bar, let out a loud, angry roar. He reached again for his pistol, but this time found only an empty holster.
“Where at’s my gun?” he yelled.
“In there,” Pearlie said, pointing to the spittoon.
Billy Ray looked at the spittoon, then glared at Pearlie. After a moment, he walked out without saying another word.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’ll be damned,” Deckert said after Billy Ray left so quietly. “I never thought I would see anything like that. Billy Ray’s got the worst case of temper of anyone I’ve ever seen.”
“Yes, who would think he would just walk out of here like that without doing anything?” Lenny said.
“Maybe he just—” Mary Lou stopped in mid-sentence, and glancing into the mirror behind the bar, Pearlie understood why. In the reflection of the mirror, he saw Billy Ray rushing back in through the batwing doors like a mad bull. This time he had a shotgun in his hands.
“You son of a bitch! Nobody does me that way!” he bellowed. He let loose a blast as soon as he cleared the doors.
Because Pearlie had seen Billy Ray in the mirror, he was able to launch himself onto the floor just as the big man pulled the trigger. Despite Pearlie’s quick reaction, he felt the sting of four or five of the pellets. Fortunately, the biggest load hit the bar, taking out a significant chunk of it.
Enraged that he missed, Billy Ray swung the shotgun toward Pearlie.
“You son of a bitch!” he shouted. He pulled the hammer back on the second barrel. “I’m going to leave your guts on the floor!”
Pearlie had drawn his pistol even as he dived to the floor and now, lying on his back, with his face bleeding slightly from the puncture wounds of the pellets that did strike him, he raised up, pointed his pistol at Billy Ray, and pulled the trigger. His bullet caught Billy Ray in the forehead, and the shotgun-wielding big man fell backward onto the boardwalk in front of the New York Saloon.
Pearlie was just getting to his feet when two men, wearing badges, came into the saloon. Both were carrying shotguns and, seeing Pearlie struggling to his feet, bleeding from the shot that had hit him, they pointed their guns at him.
“Drop your gun, mister!” one of the men said.
“No need for all that, Marshal,” Pearlie said. He nodded toward Billy Ray, whose body was now lying half in and half out of the saloon. “It’s all over now.”
“You the one that killed him?”
“I am.”
“Then it ain’t all over, boy. Not by a long shot, it ain’t over. It’s just startin’.”
“Marshal Dawson, Billy Ray is the one who started this. He came in here, shooting first,” Lenny said. “You can see there at the bar, he fired the shotgun and took out part of the bar. Hit this man, too. This man had no choice but to shoot back, considering Billy Ray was ready to shoot again.”
“If I need any comment from you, Lenny York, I’ll ask for it,” the marshal said. “You do the piano playing. I’ll do the marshaling around here.” He made a gesture with his shotgun, thrusting it toward Pearlie. “Shuck out of that gun belt, boy, and let it fall, real easy like, to the floor.”
“Marshal, Lenny is right,” Deckert said. “Billy Ray come after this fella. Seems to me this fella didn’t have no choice.”
“Lenny and Mr. Deckert are telling the truth, Marshal,” Mary Lou said.
“So now the whore puts her two bits,” Dawson said dismissively. “Anybody else got anything to say?”
Pearlie looked around, and when no one else said anything, the marshal spoke again.
“I know Billy Ray had a temper,” he said. “But he wasn’t in the habit of goin’ after someone, especially with a shotgun, unless he had a good reason. Why did he come after you?”
“We were playing cards. I won the hand and he took issue with it.”
“Who else was playin’?”
“I had been playin’ but I dropped out,” Deckert said.
“Were you the only one?”
“No, Doc and Brandon were playin’, too,” Deckert said.
Dawson looked around the saloon. “Where are they?”
“They left before the shootin’,” Evans said.
Dawson turned his attention back to Pearlie. “So you’re saying that Billy Ray get mad just because he lost a hand of poker?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“Well, now, I’ll admit that Billy Ray had a temper. But I don’t think even he would fly off the handle like that just because he lost a hand of poker.”
“It might have been the way he lost, Marshal,” Deckert said.
“Oh? And how was that?”
“This here young fella, Pearlie, he said his name was, run a bluff, only it weren’t no ordinary bluff.”
“You mean he cheated?”
“No, wasn’t nothin’ like that. But he sorta set Billy Ray up, you might say, playin’ like he didn’t quite know what he was doin’, then when Billy Ray stepped into it, why, Pearlie here, closed the trap slick as a whistle.”
“You a cardsharp, are you boy? I don’t like cardsharps.”
“I enjoy playing. I’m not a cardsharp.”
“Uh-huh. Tell me, boy, how do you make your livin’?”