Maxwell, spurs jangling, grinned cockily as he went over to Gauge’s side. Then his expression turned curious. “Boss, what about that stage? I thought you went off to catch up with it.”
Gauge waved that off. “It’ll be here in half an hour or so. Gives us time to get things ready.”
“Get ready how, boss?”
Gauge ignored the question, instead nodding over to where the old man and his daughter sat side by side on the floor, the corpse of their fallen ranch hand just behind them now.
“Before I could get to the stage,” Gauge said, gesturing, “I ran into this little lady. Figured bringin’ her back here was the thing to do.”
“It surely was, Harry. And are you damn lucky you did!”
“Yeah?”
Maxwell nodded vigorously. “Turns out her old man over there signed the herd, hell, the whole damn spread over to this little girl of his. That’s why.” He pointed toward Willa. “She’s the only one you can get a signed paper from. All the old man’s good for is convincin’ her to sign.”
Gauge was grinning down at the Cullens. “Maxwell, where brains is concerned, you are a real step up from our late compadre Vint.”
Pleased with himself, Maxwell stroked his droopy, dark mustache. “Mighty nice of you to say, boss. Think maybe with Rhomer gone, you might consider takin’ on a new partner...?”
“Well, you’re my number two man today.”
That put a big smile on Maxwell’s face, the man not putting together that only the two of them were still standing.
Gun in hand, Gauge ambled nearer to Willa and her father, who remained huddled on the floor against the shoved-askew table and chairs. He loomed over them.
“Of course, when it comes to partners,” Gauge said, with a little smile, “I think Miss Cullen here knows who I really have in mind.”
Chin up, eyes cold, she said, “I won’t sign a thing over to you. Not a damned thing.”
“Such foul language from so sweet a girl. Sure about that, sugar?” He aimed his .44 past her, at her papa’s head. “I suppose, in a way, it’s kind of a blessin’ that your daddy won’t be able to see it comin’...”
She hugged her father protectively, trying to shield his body with hers.
Gauge chuckled, then sat down at the table that father and daughter were leaned against. He set down his. 44 close to him and, from an inside pocket of his vest, brought out a paper and a pencil.
“I’d prefer ink,” Gauge said, slightly disappointed. “And eventually we’ll go to the bank and put together some real pretty documents. For now, though, this’ll just have to do... Come on, honey. Sit with me.”
He gestured to the chair beside him.
Willa scowled up at him, but her father nodded to her and, her face ashen, she rose and took the chair at the table. Gauge pushed the document and the writing implement toward her.
“Go ahead,” he said, friendly, reasonable. “Read it over. You’ll see I’ve arranged for you to keep the house. I won’t move in there till you ask me to.”
She looked at him, agape. “And you really think I will?”
“That blind old man on the floor? He was a real man, once upon a time. The kind of hard, ruthless frontier sort that can carve something out of nothing.” Gauge shrugged. “Not too many of ’em left these days, and, well, hell, he’s well past it.”
Her eyes were wild. “If you think after forcing me to sign this, I would ever—”
“I think when this husk of a man that your father has turned into finally dies... and I won’t harm a white hair on his head, if you sign this... you’ll look around and see what I’ve done. What I’ve accomplished. You’ll want your land back. Your life back. And I will be waitin’, Willa... to give it to you.”
She shook her head, astounded by him. “You really think anybody would believe I signed this of my own free will?”
“Well, first of all, you won’t say otherwise. Because if you do, this old man will die hard and long and slow. I would imagine, in his time, he’s done things to deserve that kind of death. So I won’t feel too bad about it.”
Her eyebrows climbed. “Can you really believe what you’re saying?”
His manner became matter-of-fact. “Everyone’s gonna believe what I’m sayin’. Look around, Miss Willa. See poor old Deputy Rhomer over there? He’s gonna take the blame for all the bad things that happened today. He done me a favor, really, ’cause it’s gonna look better this way.”
“Better.”
“Oh yes. See, he tried to take it all, take your herd and everything... even Lola over there. Look at her. She used to be a real beauty. An animal, that Rhomer.”
Maxwell said, “I can be a witness, boss. I’ll say it any way you want it.”
The mustached gunhand was over by the bar, where he was training a revolver on the groggy man down at the other end. York remained slumped and reeling on the floor with Lola’s barely conscious form not far away.
Gauge said, “I appreciate that, Maxwell. May come in handy. You could say how I arrived just in time to save the necks of our good friends, the Cullens here. I mean, after all — I am the sheriff.”
Willa was shaking her head, amazed at Gauge’s audacity. “And you think I will back up your story?”
“I would prefer it that you did.” He picked up the .44 and aimed it down at her father on the floor. “But if need be, I will tell a sadder story — how I didn’t get here till after Rhomer killed your daddy, and you.”
“You... you wouldn’t have your signature.”
“Well, that’s right. You’d both be dead. I’d have to go ridin’ over to your ranch and find some examples of how you sign your name, and put somethin’ like it on this document. You think I can’t convince the Trinidad bank to back me up?”
She sat, frowned, mulling it.
Then she said, “And you’ll let us go? You’ll leave my father and me be? We’ll have our house?”
He was nodding. “You got Harry Gauge’s word on that. All I want is that herd. And I need it now. Right now.”
She grabbed the pencil and signed the paper, and pushed them both back at him.
York was sitting up.
He said, “You shouldn’t have done that, Willa.”
Gauge, still seated, swung the .44 and its long barrel his prisoner’s way.
Over by the bar, Maxwell, eyes glittering, said, “Go on and kill him, Harry! Blow his brains and then it’ll be just you and me.”
Gauge thought about that, then glanced at his new number two. “You know, I don’t think so. I think I have all the partners I need right now.”
The bug eyes widened even more. “Well, I just thought...”
“See, really, that’s what I liked about Rhomer. He didn’t think. He left me to do the thinkin’. And what I think right now is, you and Rhomer and all these other former outlaws scattered around these premises, dead, mostly thanks to our friend over here, well... With where I plan to go in my life, havin’ such unsavory associates don’t put me in an at all favorable light.”
“Boss...”
“And I don’t really need any witnesses to back me up, since who’s to say somebody’s story might not change, if it was to that witness’s advantage? You follow me, Maxwell? Thinker that you are?”
“What are you sayin’, Harry?”
“I’m sayin’ goodbye, Maxwell.”
And he shot him in the head.
The man was dead before his surprised expression could change. Gun tumbling from dead fingers, he slid down the side of the bar and sat on the floor, head hanging.