The older, well-muscled man put a cup of coffee in front of Edward. “Things have been pretty quiet. There were a couple of disagreements earlier, but I calmed them down quick enough.”
“Thanks for the coffee. Temperatures are dropping again. I suppose we’ll get more snow.”
“Probably. No one seems to know all that much about this place, so it’s anyone’s guess.”
“You’re cheating. I saw you deal that card off the bottom!” The accusation immediately drew Edward and Bill’s attention.
Edward searched for the source of trouble and found the accused and accuser facing off about ten feet away at one of the plank-board tables. The man being confronted was the same card dealer Hank Garlow had beaten up some time back. The man doing the confronting was none other than Hank himself. His brother stood against the wall about five feet away.
“I wasn’t cheating,” the man told Garlow. He pushed back his coat to reveal a pistol.
“I saw you. You were dealing them off the bottom just like last time, and I ain’t gonna tolerate being cheated by a lowlife like you,” Hank countered. He copied the man’s movements and revealed his own gun. “Now give me back the money you stole from me.”
“I didn’t steal anything, Hank. And if you don’t clear out, I’ll cut you down where you stand.” He turned slightly toward Emory as the younger man eased his coat behind his gun. “And you stay out of this unless you want to be next.”
“Stay out of it, Emory. I don’t need your help to handle a snake like him.” Hank’s gaze never left the man.
Edward moved across the room to stand beside the dealer. “That’s enough, boys. Probably better end this game. Find another way of amusing yourselves. And you all know that your guns were supposed to be checked. City ordinance doesn’t allow for carrying firearms in city limits.” Edward knew few of the west-enders followed through on the rules, but he wanted it out there just for the record.
“He owes me money,” Hank declared. “I want it now.”
“You’ll get it,” the man replied, pulling his gun.
Hank was much too fast. He shot at the man and hit him in the chest. It didn’t deter the dealer from raising his gun to fire.
Everything happened at once. Edward knocked the gunfrom the man’s hand as Hank Garlow fired a second round. Hank’s bullet hit him in the side, sending pain throughout Edward’s body. It felt as if someone had just plowed into him, knocking him to the ground. A final blast from what must have been Hank’s gun sounded one more time, but there was nothing Edward could do.
The card dealer fell to the ground beside him. It was evident the man was dead. A bullet hole oozed blood from just above his lifeless eyes. Bill told someone to go for the doctor, then threatened to shoot Hank if he didn’t put his gun away.
Edward reached down to touch his side and drew up his hand. It was covered in blood. The sight of his own blood made him feel a bit woozy. Fighting it off, Edward struggled to sit up, but someone pushed him back down.
“Steady there, Deputy.” The man turned away. “Someone help me get him up on the table.”
A couple of men came and lifted Edward and put him on one of the plank-board tables that only moments before had held cards and chips. Edward did what he could to assess his situation. He was breathing just fine and could feel his heart pounding away. The wound couldn’t be all that bad.
“He’s losing a lot of blood,” Bill said. “Pilson, go get me a bunch of bar towels.” Bill looked down at Edward. “You’re bleeding bad, Deputy. Hold still, and I’ll do what I can.”
Edward felt waves of dizziness mingled with pain. He didn’t want to lose consciousness, but it seemed that was the way things were going.
“Marybeth,” he whispered. Someone needed to tell her what had happened. He looked at Bill through fading vision. “Marybeth.”
Hank sat back down and collected money from the table. Emory joined him and picked up the bottle of whiskey one of the men had abandoned.
“You killed another one, Hank. What’s that now? Twelve?”
“Something like that,” Hank said, chuckling. “But you all saw, he drew on me, and it was a fair fight.”
“But you shot the deputy,” someone said from the crowd.
“Yeah, but he was just in the way. I didn’t shoot him on purpose. You all saw that too.”
Fred Henderson appeared just then. He rushed to his now unconscious deputy. Following behind him came men that Hank knew only too well: members of the vigilante committee.
“What happened?” Fred asked Bill.
“Card game got out of hand. Garlow accused the dealer of cheating. Dealer pulled a gun on him,” Bill replied. “Edward tried to break it up but got in the way of one of Hank’s bullets.”
“It was an accident,” Hank declared loud enough for everyone to hear. “I had no problem with the deputy.”
