“Hell, yes, I killed him,” Pogue replied. “He threatened me.”
“He threatened you? How did he threaten you?”
“He told me he was goin’ to break my neck.”
“That’s right,” one of the other men said. “I heard him say that very thing.”
“Is there anyone here who didn’t see him draw first?” Pogue asked.
“No, sir, you give him plenty of opportunity,” yet another saloon patron said. “You not only let him draw first, you was goin’ to let him shoot first.”
“I want all of you to remember that,” Pogue said.
“Surely, he will not get away with that,” Malcolm said to Shaw, speaking quietly.
“Yeah, he will. All the law will ask is who drew first.”
“But he clearly goaded the other man into a fight.”
“They was already a’ fightin’ when we come in. The killin’ didn’t commence until that Gentry feller drawed on him,” Shaw said.
It took about three minutes before a couple of Denver policemen arrived, wearing the blue uniforms, domed hats, and huge badges of their profession.
“What happened here?” one of the police officers asked.
Everyone began speaking at the same time, and one of the policemen had to hold up his hand to call for quiet.
“One at a time. I’ll start with you,” he said, pointing to the bartender. “Who shot this man?”
“I did,” Pogue said, before the bartender could answer. “If you want to know anything about what happened here, all you got to do is ask me.”
“All right, I’ll start with you.”
“This here fella drawed on me,” Pogue said. “I didn’t have no choice but to defend myself.”
“Are you saying he drew first?”
“That’s right,” the bartender said. “I’ll vouch for Pogue on that. You can see the gun is still in Gentry’s hand.”
“Anyone else have anything different to tell?”
“I . . .” the girl who had been the subject of the fight started to say, but she stopped when Pogue glared at her.
“What?” the policeman asked.
“I was just going to say that Pogue is right. Mr. Gentry drew first.”
The two policemen spoke to each other quietly for a moment, then the spokesman of the two turned back to Pogue.
“From all we can determine, this was a case of self-defense. I reckon it doesn’t have to go any further than this. But, barkeep, we are going to keep an eye on this place, and if too many things like this happen here, we are going to close you down. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir, I understand,” the bartender replied.
“What did I tell you?” Shaw asked after the two policemen left.
“You were right. I never would have believed you, but you were right.”
“Seems to me like this man Pogue would be someone we might want to recruit,” Shaw suggested.
“Yes,” Malcolm said enthusiastically. “See if he will come talk to us.”
Shaw got up from the table, walked over to speak to Pogue, then brought him back.
“Pogue, this here is Deputy Sheriff Malcolm,” Shaw said.
Pogue was startled by the introduction. “Deputy Sheriff? You didn’t tell me nothin’ ’bout him bein’ a deputy sheriff.” Pogue looked directly at Malcolm. “Look here, you got nothin’ on me. A policeman has already been here.”
“Oh, I’m not a local deputy, I have no jurisdiction here,” Malcolm said. “Pogue, is that your Christian name, or your surname?”
“It’s my name,” Pogue answered without being more specific. He wheezed when he talked.
“I watched your—shall we call it performance? You seem to be quite accomplished with a pistol.”
Two men were, at that moment, picking up Gentry’s body and putting it on a litter.
“Put him in the wagon, I’ll drive him down to the undertaker,” someone said. There was considerably more attention being paid to the disposition of the body than to the conversation going on between Malcolm and Pogue.
“I’m good enough,” Pogue replied.
“Have you ever heard of a man named MacCallister?” Malcolm asked.
Pogue’s eyes squinted. “Yeah, I’ve heard of Falcon MacCallister. What about it?”
“Do you think you are as good as he is?”
“I may be. Why are you askin’?”
“Mr. Malcolm has a bone to pick with MacCallister,” Shaw said.
“Yeah, don’t ever’one?” Pogue replied.
“In fact, my particular grievance is not with Falcon MacCallister, but with his kinsman, Duff MacCallister.”
“Duff MacCallister? I’ve never heard of ’im.”
“It is my understanding that Duff and Falcon will be together, so I cannot hunt for one without hunting for the other.”
“You goin’ after them, are you?” Pogue asked.
“Yes.”
Pogue grunted what might have been a laugh. “Just the two of you?”
“And you, if we can come to some arrangement,” Malcolm said. “I think three of us might be enough.”
“Malcolm, let me ask you somethin’,” Shaw said. “Didn’t you tell me that they was three of you tried to take on Duff MacCallister?”
“Yes.”
“And what happened?”
“He killed the other two,” Malcolm said. “But that was an unusual circumstance. That’s not likely to happen again.”
“Wait a minute,” Pogue said. “You’re tellin’ me that three of you wasn’t enough to take on this here Duff feller, but you think three of us would be enough for Duff and Falcon? Mister, I ain’t sure three is enough for Falcon alone, let alone iffen he has someone with him. And this here Duff feller you are talkin’ about don’t seem like he’s goin’ to be too easy his ownself.”
“I thought you said you said you were as good as Falcon MacCallister.”
“I said I might be,” Pogue said. “But you done brought up someone else, and that changes it a bit. You said somethin’ about comin’ to an arrangement with me,” Pogue said. “Does that mean you’d be willin’ to pay me?”
“Aye.”
“That’s good. But I’m not goin’ to get myself kilt by goin’ up against Falcon MacCallister and this other feller you’re talkin’ about. You can’t spend money if you’re dead. We’re goin’ to need some more people.”
“I don’t have enough money to pay for any more people,” Malcolm said.
“Mister, there’s lots of folks that want Falcon dead. Onliest thing is there ain’t none of ’em got the sand to go up ag’in him alone. But if there was to be a bunch of us all gathered together, they wouldn’t be scared and more’n likely we would get the job done. And it wouldn’t cost you nothin’ ’cept what you are goin’ to pay me.”
“The only problem is, Falcon is not the one I am interested in,” Malcolm said.
“That don’t matter none. Iffen they are together like you say, you ain’t likely to get one of ’em, without you get the other,” Pogue said.
“Do you think you could find such men?” Malcolm asked.
“I can find ’em. I know lots of people that would like to see Falcon MacCallister dead. Hell, the problem ain’t goin’ to be in findin’ ’em, it’s goin’ to be in decidin’ which ones to take and which ones to leave.”
Malcolm thought about it for a moment, then he nodded. “All right. Round up the men.”
“We ain’t talked about gettin’ paid yet.”
“Suppose I pay you twenty-five dollars?” Malcolm suggested.
“Fifty,” Pogue countered.
Malcolm fought hard to suppress his smile. He would have been willing to pay up to one hundred dollars.
“Twenty-five now, and twenty-five when the job is done,” Malcolm suggested.
Pogue held out his hand. “Give me the money.”
As Malcolm counted it out, Pogue started giggling.
“What is so funny?”
“I was goin’ to say ten dollars, ’till you come with twenty-five. When you said that, I figured I could maybe get fifty. You don’t know it, Mister, but you got took.”