Marshal. I could see in your eyes as soon as I mentioned the name that you know him or at least know of him. I expect you got paper on him.”
Hobbs shrugged. “Why do you think he’s in these parts?” he asked, hoping to get Bloodworth’s mind off him knowing the man.
“I was told he often keeps company with a whore here. Name might be Belle.”
“So why’n’t you check the whorehouses?” Hobbs sounded rather smug.
“Ain’t no one at those establishments willin’ to say anything. I thought you, bein’ a lawman and all, might be of some help.” A touch of anger crept into his voice.
“Hell, I can’t keep track of every pissant outlaw comes here and spends time the other side of the tracks with some sportin’ gals.”
“Then you ain’t much of a marshal,” Bloodworth retorted.
“I don’t take kindly to such words,” Hobbs hissed. His hand inched toward his pistol.
“I don’t take kindly to two-bit marshals who are afraid of a two-bit outlaw. Or maybe you’re in cahoots with him.”
“Goddamn you, boy…” His hand darted for his revolver.
Bloodworth snapped out his six-gun. “That would be a damnfool thing to do, Marshal. I’d hate to have to splatter your skull all over the wall there. And it’d slow me down some in my search for Tucker.”
Hobbs glared at him, “Damn you, you insolent bastard. I ought to…”
“Shut your trap, Marshal. I didn’t come in here to cause you grief. All I want is Tucker. So, if you ain’t in cahoots with him, just tell me what cathouse he frequents and I’ll be out of your office.” He stopped and looked at Hobbs in question. “Unless maybe you’re hopin’ to get the bounty on him.” He could tell by the look that flashed across Hobbs’ face that he had struck a chord.
“You know well’s that ain’t legal for a lawman,” Bloodworth said. “But I’ll say this: You help me get him and I’ll let you have the bounty. We’ll figure out a way to make it legal, or at least so it won’t raise too many eyebrows. I may be a bounty man and depend on bounties to make my way in life. But I ain’t interested in it this time. I just want to take Tucker and see he gets the justice he deserves.”
“You aim to kill him, don’t you?” Hobbs asked, squinting up at Bloodworth.
“I ain’t aimin’ to, but I’ll do so without a thought should he decide he won’t come along peaceably.”
Hobbs stared up at him. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You can’t. But think on this: You ain’t gonna get the bounty on him anyway. At least this way you got a chance to pocket it.”
Hobbs thought that over a bit, then nodded. “He usually hangs his hat at Mattie’s when he’s in town. That’s the third building on the left once you cross the tracks. If he’s around, it’s likely that’s where he’ll be. Or in one of the saloons. He favors Bert’s, down…”
“I was in there last night. I’ll check it again.” He slid his pistol into the holster. But he backed toward the door, continuing to face Hobbs. He opened the door behind him, said, “Obliged, Marshal,” Then he slipped out.
** ** ** ** **
Bloodworth walked into Bert’s and tramped up to the bar. The same bartender was on duty and he sidled up, seemingly having never seen Bloodworth before. “Whaddaya want?” he growled.
“Information.”
“I don’t serve information,” he said with a smile, amused at his wit. “Just drinks. Now, I’ll ask you again, whaddaya want?”
The next thing he knew, the bartender had the muzzle of a .44-caiber Remington stuck in the underside of his nose.
“Where’s Tucker?” Bloodworth asked coldly.
“Don’t know.” He paled when Bloodworth thumbed back the hammer.
“I don’t know,” the bartender said, panic in his voice. “Really. I ain’t seen him.” He swallowed. “Last time he was in here was two, three days ago.” He breathed in relief as the gun was suddenly gone.
“Know
Hobbs shrugged. “Why do you think he’s in these parts?” he asked, hoping to get Bloodworth’s mind off him knowing the man.
“I was told he often keeps company with a whore here. Name might be Belle.”
“So why’n’t you check the whorehouses?” Hobbs sounded rather smug.
“Ain’t no one at those establishments willin’ to say anything. I thought you, bein’ a lawman and all, might be of some help.” A touch of anger crept into his voice.
“Hell, I can’t keep track of every pissant outlaw comes here and spends time the other side of the tracks with some sportin’ gals.”
“Then you ain’t much of a marshal,” Bloodworth retorted.
“I don’t take kindly to such words,” Hobbs hissed. His hand inched toward his pistol.
“I don’t take kindly to two-bit marshals who are afraid of a two-bit outlaw. Or maybe you’re in cahoots with him.”
“Goddamn you, boy…” His hand darted for his revolver.
Bloodworth snapped out his six-gun. “That would be a damnfool thing to do, Marshal. I’d hate to have to splatter your skull all over the wall there. And it’d slow me down some in my search for Tucker.”
Hobbs glared at him, “Damn you, you insolent bastard. I ought to…”
“Shut your trap, Marshal. I didn’t come in here to cause you grief. All I want is Tucker. So, if you ain’t in cahoots with him, just tell me what cathouse he frequents and I’ll be out of your office.” He stopped and looked at Hobbs in question. “Unless maybe you’re hopin’ to get the bounty on him.” He could tell by the look that flashed across Hobbs’ face that he had struck a chord.
“You know well’s that ain’t legal for a lawman,” Bloodworth said. “But I’ll say this: You help me get him and I’ll let you have the bounty. We’ll figure out a way to make it legal, or at least so it won’t raise too many eyebrows. I may be a bounty man and depend on bounties to make my way in life. But I ain’t interested in it this time. I just want to take Tucker and see he gets the justice he deserves.”
“You aim to kill him, don’t you?” Hobbs asked, squinting up at Bloodworth.
“I ain’t aimin’ to, but I’ll do so without a thought should he decide he won’t come along peaceably.”
Hobbs stared up at him. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You can’t. But think on this: You ain’t gonna get the bounty on him anyway. At least this way you got a chance to pocket it.”
Hobbs thought that over a bit, then nodded. “He usually hangs his hat at Mattie’s when he’s in town. That’s the third building on the left once you cross the tracks. If he’s around, it’s likely that’s where he’ll be. Or in one of the saloons. He favors Bert’s, down…”
“I was in there last night. I’ll check it again.” He slid his pistol into the holster. But he backed toward the door, continuing to face Hobbs. He opened the door behind him, said, “Obliged, Marshal,” Then he slipped out.
** ** ** ** **
Bloodworth walked into Bert’s and tramped up to the bar. The same bartender was on duty and he sidled up, seemingly having never seen Bloodworth before. “Whaddaya want?” he growled.
“Information.”
“I don’t serve information,” he said with a smile, amused at his wit. “Just drinks. Now, I’ll ask you again, whaddaya want?”
The next thing he knew, the bartender had the muzzle of a .44-caiber Remington stuck in the underside of his nose.
“Where’s Tucker?” Bloodworth asked coldly.
“Don’t know.” He paled when Bloodworth thumbed back the hammer.
“I don’t know,” the bartender said, panic in his voice. “Really. I ain’t seen him.” He swallowed. “Last time he was in here was two, three days ago.” He breathed in relief as the gun was suddenly gone.
“Know
Similar Books
