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Authors: Paul Henke

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A Million Tears (31 page)

BOOK: A Million Tears
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‘I take it the protection required is from other men, not from wild animals,’ the gunsmith said dryly.

‘There, sir, you’re quite correct. So what do you suggest?’

‘There are all sorts of weapons to choose from. Let’s start with pistols and then move on to rifles.’ He lifted a tray from under the counter. ‘Here is an example of the standard guns I sell. As you can see they vary in size from this small two shot Derringer to the Colt 45, probably the most popular hand gun in the States at the moment.’

For half an hour Evan examined guns and talked with the old man . . . I call him old because he looked at least ten years older than me. It was interesting to hear an expert talk about a subject he loved but after a while John and I became restless and left for the warehouse while Evan remained behind. It was just on noon and Sonny already had the doors open.

I guess after the Christmas rush and all the over eating, people were not too keen to spend more money because though we had customers non-stop we were not as busy as usual. Evan came in nearly two hours later with a number of packages.

He put them on his desk and opened them. ‘Here you are, Uncle James, something for you,’ he threw me a gun and holster.

I eyed it dubiously. It was not very big and the holster had a funny compactness to it which I couldn’t see how to fit on my leg.

‘Like this,’ Evan took a similar one for himself and put it around his waist. The holster fitted snugly to his left side, the handle pointing forward. Under his coat it was difficult to detect. ‘We’re businessmen and I figured that’s how we should look, not like a couple of cowboys. I’ve tried them out behind the gunsmith’s shop, in his testing range. He persuaded me to buy this rifle,’ he unwrapped a Winchester. ‘When I learn to ride I can put it in my saddle. In the meantime I’ll keep it in the buckboard, just in case.’

‘What’s in the last package?’ asked John.

‘Oh, this.’ Evan tore off the paper. ‘It’s a sawn-off shotgun. The ’smith reckoned that until I learn to fire a pistol properly, my best chance of hitting anybody would be with this. He’s even making me a special holder.’ Evan pushed a box of shells towards me. ‘I’ll show you how to load it Uncle James. Then I want you to call Sonny up here – for a little chat.’

‘Anything up?’ asked John.

‘I’m not sure,’ replied Evan opening the cylinder of the pistol to load it. ‘I had a talk with the gunsmith and he told me Roybal is pretty vindictive. If Roybal comes into town he’ll have to go past the gunsmith’s shop. It he does, the gunsmith said he’ll try and send word. Ah, here’s Sonny.’ Evan told Sonny what had happened with Junior and as he spoke Sonny became more and more agitated.

‘Gee, I’m sorry, Mr Griffiths. I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble. I guess you want me to go, eh?’

‘What on earth are you talking about, Sonny?’ asked John.

‘Well, sir, I eh, I figured you know Marylou was with me and that’s who Junior was after. So it was my fault. If I go then old man Roybal won’t do too much to Mr Griffiths here.’

Evan grinned. ‘How serious is it between you and Marylou? She struck me as a pretty girl with a nice way about her.’

‘Well, sir, it’s pretty serious, I guess. We’ve been walking out now for a few months. As soon as I can save enough money I was planning to ask her to . . .’ he trailed off.

‘So where does Junior fit in to all this?’ John asked.

‘He’d been walking out with her before me. But after he got into some pretty close scrapes with the law she gave him up. He don’t seem to think she’s got the right to do that, somehow.’ He sighed. ‘Well I guess I’d better get my gear. It’s sure . . .’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said Evan sharply. ‘For one thing, what happened last night was my affair and not yours. And for another nobody pushes me or my staff around. Now listen Sonny, this is what I want you to do if we have to.’ Evan outlined his idea and when he had finished Sonny’s sombre face creased with a big grin.

‘I’m sure going to enjoy this,’ said Sonny.

We went downstairs. I wished I had the same feeling.

 

23

 

I tried to settle down to work but found it impossible. I hoped Roybal would turn up soon and we could clear the air and get it all over with. Finally I gave up and threw down a half completed stock list in disgust. For some time, I sat and thought of how far we had come in such a short period. A lot had happened and a lot more was going to happen. Provided we survived the day. We? No, that was wrong. Evan was the driving force and Meg the main support. Without either of them, there was no future. I hoped Evan knew what he was doing. I went down below to the stove and got myself a cup of coffee from the staff room.

It was late afternoon when we received the message. I stood by the door to Evan’s office, Evan sat behind his desk. John sat on an upright chair against the wall, his right hand out of sight by his side. From where I stood I could see the main door. The minutes dragged by. More than once I thought I saw somebody outside but then I realised it was my eyes playing tricks. I decided if we got through the day all right I was going to an optician. I thought I saw something and screwed my eyes up to see better. I was not mistaken: some men had just entered. They went behind a high centre rack of shelves and were approaching the steps next time I saw them. I spoke quietly to John and Evan.

‘I don’t know for sure, but I guess this is it. There’s three of them. The one in front is about fifty, well built and about as tall as you, Evan. The two behind are both wearing guns tied low on their legs. I guess it’s like Sonny said. They’re his gunslingers and mean looking swine.’ I trailed off as they reached the top of the stairs and marched into the office. The front man’s eyes swept past John and me and rested on Evan.

‘You Griffiths?’ he asked with a growl.

‘Yes, I am,’ said Evan, smiling politely, standing and coming round his desk, his hand outstretched, a smile on his face. ‘And who are you, sir?’ Evan asked, taking the man’s hand, even though it hadn’t been offered. Roybal was so surprised he allowed Evan to sit him in a chair placed directly in front of his desk. The thumb of Evan’s right hand was casually hooked into his belt close to where I knew the butt of his gun lay. It had all happened smoothly and quickly.

Roybal came to his wits and lurched to his feet. ‘Cut out this horseshit,’ he leaned on the desk, his face a foot or so from Evan’s.

‘I’ve come here to give you the same hiding you gave my son. Now get on your feet before I drag you across your desk.’

Evan sat still and looked calmly at the enraged face before him. Roybal had worked himself into such a state that his face was mottled red.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Evan asked softly.

‘Huh? It was you, wasn’t it, that beat up my son last night?’

‘Are you talking about that drunk who tried to . . .’ before Evan got any further Roybal, with a snarl of range went to draw his gun. His two men behind him were doing the same thing when Evan’s voice came across like a whiplash. ‘Don’t.’ As he said it he pulled out the sawn off shotgun from beneath his desk. ‘Now look behind you and to the side.’

In the doorway and lined up along the glass partition were five of our men, each pointing rifles into the office. John had lifted his gun from besides his chair and I now pulled mine from its holster.

‘If you make a move of any description you’ll be dead,’ Evan’s quiet voice was like ice, his face carved from wood. ‘Now tell me exactly why you’ve come here.’

‘For you, for what you did to my son. You’re making a bad mistake, Griffiths. I’m not a man to cross easily. One of the hands I left at the door will see the guns and go for the rest of my men.’

‘Sonny?’ Evan kept his eyes on Roybal.

‘Just like you said Mr Griffiths. Mac and Frank got their rifles right up the man’s nose now. In fact, I’d say Frank is just itching to pull the trigger.’

‘Did you suggest that you’re not a man to cross easily, Roybal? If I were you, I’d think twice about issuing stupid threats. At the moment your chances of leaving alive are looking pretty thin. Now, nice and easy, drop your gun. Sonny, get the guns. Now sit in that chair, Roybal . . . Good. Is your son a man or a mouse that his father has to come to fight his battles?’

‘He’s little more than a boy. He told me how he come to your place and asked all polite like to see his girl and how you got the drop on him and then gave him a hiding. With,’ Roybal spat the words at Evan, ‘two of them no good German farmers holding onto him. Well, today I’ve come to even that score and this time nobody will be holding my hands.’ The man was trembling and in such a rage he seemed oblivious to our guns.

‘Mr Roybal, it will be with delight that you and I shall meet outside and I shall enjoy teaching you some manners. You are nothing but a common, loutish bully. Your son rode up to my place last night while my guests and I were enjoying my party and tried to force an entrance. He was drunk and abusive. It was only by luck on my part that he didn’t shoot me. I was unarmed at the time. After disarming him,’ the contempt in Evan’s voice was as thick as butter, ‘I threw him into my horse trough. At that point he threatened my children. I have two boys aged ten and twelve, Mr Roybal,’ while Evan spoke the anger was draining from Roybal at about the same rate as the blood from his face, which by now was chalk white.

‘I don’t take kindly to threats against them. Mr Buchanan here saved your son from the biggest hiding of his life.’ Evan took a deep breath, and went on. ‘At the moment I am seriously considering pressing charges against him for assault, disturbing the peace and attempted murder. I have enough witnesses to prove what I have just told you and there’s more than a good chance he’d be convicted. Can you imagine what five years in the state penitentiary will do to him? I can.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ said the man but with no conviction. ‘I don’t believe you. My son wouldn’t lie to me.’

‘From what I’ve heard about your son he’d do a lot worse than that. He’s a no good . . .’ Evan stopped. ‘I have no need to tell you what he’s like, do I? Because you already know. Let me tell you something else. I am also tempted right this minute to send for the Marshal and have him arrest you for threatening me.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ said Roybal heatedly. ‘I’d close this place in a month if you tried something like that. You’ll learn out here, Griffiths, that men don’t run to the law, they settle their problems themselves.’

‘Oh, I’ve noticed,’ said Evan. ‘Which is why until you stop acting like children and use your laws you’ll be a second rate country.’ Evan pulled back the two hammers on the shotgun. The slightest pressure on his finger would blow Roybal to Kingdom come.

Nobody moved a muscle. The tension in the silence reached breaking point. Roybal knew death was close and was sweating profusely. He was the first to break the silence.

‘What do you want?’ he croaked.

‘Nothing. You and I are going downstairs and out to the back where I am going to give you the hiding of your life. When you return home I suggest you do something similar to your son, before it’s too late. Though I suspect it is already. The reason I’m going to do this Roybal is so you’ll realise that I am not a man to be trifled with. I don’t trust you not to leave here, get your men and return. I think you’re that sort of coward. Like father like son. And I know what the son is like. Afterwards, you’ll see I do mean business and if you ever cross me again I’ll come after you, shooting. Now, on your feet.’

On the way downstairs I caught Evan’s arm. ‘Are you crazy, bach? He’ll beat you easily. What the hell are you achieving by doing this?’ I was so angry I felt like hitting Evan myself.

‘Just as I said, Uncle James. Though that’s only part of it. If I win then the word will spread and they’ll leave me and the family alone. You know what this place is like. They seem to think it necessary to find out how tough a man is before they’ll leave him in peace.’

I did not, could not and never would agree with him but when it came to Meg and the kids Evan was almost irrational. I believed his real fear was that if Roybal did not control his son then there was a possibility his son would do something stupid. If Evan won the fight, then perhaps the humiliation would force Roybal to do something about Junior. Maybe Evan was right, maybe he was wrong. But as I said, Evan was irrational when it came to Meg and the kids.

‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ said Roybal with a sneer as he shucked off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Evan did the same, though without bothering to reply.

We formed a loose circle around them but were careful to keep an eye on Roybal’s man.
‘Are you ready you English pig?’ challenged Roybal, stepping forward.
‘Welsh I am, boyo and I’ll thank you to remember it.’

A half dozen or so of our customers joined us and as soon as the first punch was thrown it was obvious which side they were on. Roybal was far from popular with the local people, that much was clear.

Roybal came in fast in spite of his age and the gut he carried. He threw a heavy fist at Evan’s head which if it had landed would have finished the fight there and then. Evan ducked, skipped to one side and punched Roybal in the kidneys. It was not very hard, but hard enough to make Roybal gasp.

This time Roybal closed more cautiously. Evan stood in the centre of the circle his feet planted firmly, waiting. Roybal held a loose guard position with his right fist across his chest, his left slightly forward and lower. Evan had his chin well protected with his right, his left further forward, his right arm protecting his body. Evan waited patiently. Suddenly Roybal stepped in and swung at Evan’s stomach. This time, instead of avoiding the blow, Evan blocked it and jabbed two fast left hooks at Roybal’s chin. Both connected and Roybal’s head jerked back each time. Again, I was sure Evan had not hit him as hard as he could.

The yells of encouragement from the small crowd had brought more people, many of whom appeared to be cheering for Evan.

Roybal rushed in again, trying to get close, throwing punches at Evan’s face and body. Evan blocked or ducked them all. The wildness of his movements left Roybal exposed and Evan landed seven or eight blows to the man’s face and stomach. Roybal ignored the punishment and went on trying to land one good punch, but finally he staggered back. He reeled slightly, while Evan stood there as calmly as ever, a mocking smile on his face. Roybal gulped in air, looked about him at the grinning crowd and lost his temper. He threw caution to the wind and went lumbering in. He took a hell of a battering trying to land his wild punches. One or two got through Evan’s defence, but they did not seem to bother Evan in the least.

BOOK: A Million Tears
12.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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