The Complete Western Stories of Elmore Leonard - Elmore Leonard [86]
Jack chewed and swallowed hard and then he smiled. “Damn, Em, you must have flown!”
The other man looked at us one at a time slowly, then shrugged his shoulders and said, “What the hell,” and shoved the taco in his mouth.
Joe Anthony wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and moved the hand back, smoothing the long mustaches with the knuckle of his index finger. The other hand was still under the table.
Emmett held his revolver pointed square at Joe Anthony and seemed to be unmindful of the other two men. Lloyd and Ned came through the kitchen door and moved around behind Emmett.
“Get up,” Em ordered. “And take off your belts.”
Somebody’s chair scraped, but Joe Anthony said, “Hold it!” and it was quiet.
Anthony was staring back at Emmett. “Do I look like a green kid to you, Ryan?” he said, and half smiled. “You’re not telling anybody what to do, cowboy.”
“I said get up,” Em repeated.
Joe Anthony kept on smiling like he thought Emmett was a fool. He shook his head slowly. “Ryan, the longer you stand there, the shorter your chances are of leaving here on your two feet.”
“You’re all mouth,” Emmett said. “Just mouth.”
The outlaw’s expression didn’t change. His face was good-looking in a swarthy kind of way, but gaunt and hungry-looking with pale, shallow eyes like a man who forgot where his conscience was, or that he ever had one.
His smile sagged a little and he said, “Ryan, let’s quit playing. You ride the hell out of here before I shoot you.”
“I’m not playing,” Emmett said, leveling the revolver. “Get up, quick.”
“Ryan,” Joe Anthony whispered impatiently, “I’ve had a Colt leveled on your belly since the second you come through that doorway.”
I thought I knew Emmett Ryan, but I didn’t know him as well as I supposed. His face didn’t change its expression, but his finger moved on the trigger and the room filled with the explosion. His thumb yanked on the hammer and he fired again right on top of the first one.
Joe Anthony went back with his chair, fell hard and lay still. His pistol was still in the holster on his right hip.
Emmett looked down at him. “You’re all mouth, Anthony. All mouth.”
Nobody said anything after that. We were looking at Em and Em was looking at Joe Anthony stretched out on the floor. I heard steps behind me and there was Dobie Shaw tiptoeing in and looking like he’d dive out the window if anybody said anything.
Emmett waved his gun at the other man and glanced at his brother. “Who’s this?”
Jack spoke easily. “Earl Roach. We picked him up for a trail driver. He didn’t know it was rustled stock.”
Roach was unfastening his gun belt. He shot a look toward Jack. “Boy,” he said, “you take care of your troubles and I’ll take care of mine.”
Dobie Shaw moved up behind Emmett hesitantly and waited for the big foreman to look his way. “Mr. Ryan—Ben’s holding Butzy over to the livery.” He went on hurriedly trying to get the whole story out before Em asked any questions. “Butzy walked right in and didn’t move after Ben throwed down on him, but there was another one back a ways and he turned and rode like hell when he saw me and Ben with our guns out. Me and Ben didn’t even get a shot at him ’fore he was round the corner and gone.”
“All right, Dobie. You go on back with Ben.” Emmett hesitated and glanced at Jack like he was making up his mind all over again, but the doubt passed off quickly. He said, “We’ll be over directly. You go on and tell Ben to keep Butzy right there.”
FRANK BUTZINGER was flat against the boards of a stall, though Ben Templin was standing across the open part of the stable smoking a cigarette with his carbine propped against the wall. Ben wasn’t paying any attention to him, but even in the dim light you could see Butzy was about ready to die of fright.
Gosh Hall pushed Jack and Earl Roach toward the stall that Butzy was in and mumbled something, probably swearing. Jack looked around at him with a