A steady drip of water from his Stetson ticked against his vest. He took off his gloves and shoved them into his rear pocket. That made his fingers cold, but a gambler wouldn’t likely be standing about wearing homestead gloves.
He’d heard enough descriptions of Hawker to know that the killer was of medium height and bald as a doorknob. He might be the man sitting face toward the door no more than twenty feet in.
The fellow was thick around the middle, just as Emma had described him, and shifted the cards in his hands as quickly as Red’s eyes could follow.
He’d be a match for Matt if it ever came to it.
Red blew on his chilly fingers. A man of cards would do that so as not to let his luck run cold. Someday, if he lived through the thing he had to do, he’d try his luck at a game or two.
He didn’t hear the footsteps coming up the steps, but he heard the voice whispering in his ear clearly enough.
“You young saphead, what are you doing hanging outside the saloon in the rain?”
“You’re out here, too, Jesse, so I guess I’m no more of a saphead than you are.”
“I’ve got a legitimate reason to be out.” Jesse tugged on his elbow, pulling him out of eyesight of the saloon door. “You’re here looking for trouble.”
“That’s not exactly so. I’m looking to end trouble, is all.” How would he do that now, with Jesse showing up to make sure he didn’t?
“Any fool can see that you’re peeking in at Hawker. No wonder Matt worries about you so.”
“No one needs to worry about me. I’m near grown and fast as any man.”
“You’re too dumb to know just how dumb you sound.” Jesse took three steps down the boardwalk, then turned back. “You going to come to the livery and spend the night with me or just stand there and let the rain turn you into a drowned pup?”
“Ain’t no pup.” But the wetter he got, the colder he got. The stove in the livery sounded inviting. Besides, if he called out Hawker tonight, as he wanted to, his trigger finger would be too stiff to do the job.
He fell in step beside Jesse, eager for the warmth of the stove and maybe even some dry clothes.
“How’s Lucy faring?”
“Not good. Doc Brown is doing what he can, but I can’t hardly stand to see her looking so weak and pitiful.”
That was half the reason he had sneaked off. To see Lucy looking like a ghost broke his heart. Nothing was the same without her making things lively.
“Matt must be in a state,” Jesse said.
“He tries to act like he isn’t, but he was in a state before Lucy ever got sick.”
“All this business with Hawker’s got to be a strain.”
Jesse glanced over his shoulder at the saloon a block back.
“That’s part of it, for sure. The rest is that he wants Emma to go with us to California, but she won’t leave her house… . Jesse, you got anything to eat in the livery—for folks, I mean?”
“I can keep you fed and warm, just so long as you agree to stay put. I won’t have you hunting down Hawker during the night.”
A block away, a yellow light shone from Jesse’s room inside the livery. A full belly and a warm pile of straw to bed down on seemed more fitting at the moment than icy rain and justice.
“I’ll stay put for now, but Jess, I’m the one who ought to be facing Hawker.” He could do it, too. With just a little practice he would be a faster draw than even Matt, and that was saying something. “Matt’s only in this scrape because of me. If it hadn’t been for me, he wouldn’t have to go to California. He could stay here with Emma and be happy.”
Rain pelted his face so hard that it stung. He bent his head and lengthened his strides toward the livery.
“You were even more of a child then than you are now. Matt made his choice, Red. He never regretted it and doesn’t now.”
That didn’t change a thing. This was his fight. Once he took care of Hawker, Matt would be able to live the life he wanted with the woman he loved. He owed his stand-in father at least that much, likely a great deal more.
Besides, being young didn’t mean being slow. Lots of boys made a name with their gun. Billy the Kid, for