Episode 27

Ten Bucks per Conviction

“Ain’t we been here before?” Seth said, his disdain deepening as they followed Joe across to the jailhouse, the porter huffing behind them under the weight of the trunk.

“It does look like every other shithole cowtown we’ve been to, brother,” Len agreed.

“It is the same as Waring Station and Riverford,” Joe assured them. “And it’ll pay out like they did.”

Joe held up a hand to stop a water wagon’s progress down the main drag. The wagon was pulled by two dray horses to spray water over the street to damp down the summer dust. They crossed before it to the boardwalk.

“What’s the pay, Joe?” Len asked.

“You’ll be working off a commission out of my end. Twenty bucks for each arrest.”

“And how much for each dead lawbreaker?” Seth asked.

“Ten bucks per conviction. Again, paid by me. I don’t want to encourage you boys to over exuberance.”

Len informed Seth that this meant that Joe wanted the gunfights held to a minimum.

When they reached the jailhouse, they found Ben Temple playing chess with Coolie Taylor through the bars of Coolie’s cell.

“How you know he’s not cheating you, blind man?” Seth said by way of announcing his arrival.

“I have numbered the spaces on the board, you Finnian turd,” Ben said without turning from the game. “My opponent tells me which space his piece occupies and therefore I can keep the status of the game locked away in my unassailable mind.”

“I tried cheating. He caught me,” Coolie grumped, arm through the bars, fingertips hovering over the crown atop his queen.

“You remember the Dugan brothers,” Joe said.

“I remember I busted one of their noses over a horse trade in Clabber Mills,” Coolie said, removing his fingers from the queen to pluck up his remaining knight.

“That was me and it was Antelope up in the territories.” Len grinned.

“How’s Coolie doing, Ben?” Joe asked.

“He plays the game of kings like a slow child,” Ben said.

“I meant as pertains to sobriety and you damn well know I did.”

“Oh, he’s sober enough. Still can’t keep down hot food though. Pukes it up or shits it out,” Ben said, an ear cocked to hear the tap of the errant knight dropping to the board surface.

“Couple more days then,” Joe said.

“That was a move,” Ben said, peeved. “Sing out the number, Coolie.”

“I ain’t decided and my hand’s still on it, son of a bitch,” Coolie hissed.

“I’ll take you boys to the hotel,” Joe said, turning to the Dugans.

“We’ll be fine stayin’ right here,” Len said.

“We prefer brick walls around us when working for you, Wiley,” Seth added, frowning.

The porter lowered the trunk to the floor, heaving a grateful sigh of relief. Two bits in his sweating palm, he retired.

“Well then, I’ll ask our other guests to vacate your bunks early,” Joe said, snatching a ring of keys from a hook and unlocking the cell containing the pair of Three Rivers cowboys. The pair stepped from the cell, eyes darting from the marshal to the two new strangers.

“Take a good look at these two. You see either or both of them back in town before Saturday you feel free to blow their heads off,” Joe said, patting one of the men on the back like a treasured friend. The Dugans eyed the drovers. Twenty bucks on the hoof. Joe turned to the cowboys.

“Tell your foreman I’m not fining you this time. But next time it’s a dollar a day,” Joe said, shooing them before him to the street door. He tossed their gun belts, ammunition loops empty, to the boardwalk behind them.

“Buy yourself some bullets on the way out of town. I confiscated your lead,” Joe said before shutting the jailhouse door on them.

“So, what’s this town like? Really?” Len Dugan asked, helping himself to a mug of coffee.

“Fat,” Joe said with a grin. “I figure we have six months to a year here to bring peace to this shithole. There’s money to be made, boys. So long as you don’t mind some blood on your sleeve.”

“Long as I don’t have to do my own laundry,” Seth Dugan said with a face of stone. The others stared at him. Even Ben Temple turned to fix his unseeing gaze on the Irishman.

“I do believe your brother made a joke,” Joe said.

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Len said with a shake of his head.

“And I wouldn’t take that bet,” Ben said.

They snorted laughter. All but Seth who did not mean his remark as a joke and Coolie who found that laughter only brought on further bouts of the squirts.