A Good Day for a Massacre. William W. Johnstone

      CHAPTER 6

      The handsome gent looked around the room, frowning, then turned to Jaycee again with concern. “You all right, Jay?” He stepped into the room, doffing his hat, the look of concern deepening the frown lines cutting into his broad forehead.

      He was a tall, handsome man in a handsome three-piece suit. A suit that didn’t look like it was long from the tailor’s dummy. A dark-brown suit of fine tweed and broadcloth, with a white silk shirt matched with a paisley vest and string tie. A gold-washed chain dangled from a gilt-edged pocket of the vest.

      The man wearing the suit had been in turn tailored to wear such a finely sewn piece of duds. He was tall, broad-shouldered, slim-waisted, and long-legged. He appeared to be in his early forties. Thick, curly, cinnamon hair was combed into neat waves upon his regal head, just touching his ears and the back of his collar. His face was finely structured, handsome, even if the eyes were a tad on the oily side, the beard and mustache a little too finely and too regularly trimmed.

      Slash could see this gent folding himself into a barber’s chair every morning of the week, as though he fancied himself some frontier version of Jay Gould, likely right at eight a.m., as soon as the barber had finished sweeping off his boardwalk, tossed his cigar stub into the street, and turned the placard in his window to OPEN.

      No man should be that intimate with a barber’s chair. No real man, anyway.

      This one wore a well-polished, brightly nickeled town marshal’s badge on his vest, positioned so that it subtly showed itself peeking out from beneath the fancy Dan’s left coat lapel. A big, black Colt .44, with ivory grips in which a horse’s head was carved, adorned a black leather holster residing high on his right hip. The holster bore the initials CW.

      “Oh, hello, Cisco. Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Jay said. Slash didn’t like how a soft, feminine flush rose into the nubs of Jay’s cheeks, nor how her green eyes seemed to at once soften and brighten as she stared up at the tall newcomer.

      Cisco? Slash thought. She knows the badge-toter by his first name?

      He tried to ignore the slight, uneasy churning of his innards, but there it was.

      Slash rose from the bed. “You, uh . . . you two know each other, do you?”

      “Jay an’ me?” the marshal she’d called Cisco said, showing a full set of marble white teeth in a charming grin. “Sure, sure. Miss Breckenridge and I go back a ways—don’t we, Miss Breckenridge?”

      “Cisco . . . er, Marshal Walsh and I,” Jay corrected with a smile and an ironic dip of her chin, “met in Dodge City some time ago. Before I tumbled for that old hornswoggler Pistol Pete.”

      The marshal and Jaycee shared a warm smile, which made Slash’s guts churn and grow a little warmer, as though he’d eaten something he shouldn’t have. The lawman turned to the business at hand, frowning at the dead men. “Trouble, I see.” He glanced at the door. “Three dead men and a ruined door.”

      “As well as a good bit of blood on my rug,” Jay added, sourly. “Rest assured, however, Cisco, that the three dead men had it coming. They held me here to set a trap for Slash an’ Pe—”

      “Uh, that’s Jimmy and Melvin,” Pecos corrected with a toothy, sheepish grin.

      “Oh, don’t worry about that nonsense,” Jay said. “Cisco here knows all about Slash Braddock and the Pecos River Kid. Cisco himself once rode the wrong side of the straight an’ narrow.” She beamed again at the tall, handsome marshal, adding, “Didn’t you, Cisco?”

      “That I did, that I did.” The lawman slid his gaze from Slash to Pecos. “Until I, just like I’ve heard you fellas have done, mended my ways.”

      Slash turned to Jay. “You told him?”

      She nodded. “I saw no reason to keep your past a secret from Cisco. I’m sure he’d have figured out who you were sooner or later. He’s not as soft in his thinker box as Sheriff Decker or the man’s cork-headed deputies.”

      “Not to worry, fellas,” Marshal Walsh said, raising his hands, palms out. “Your secret is safe with me. Especially since you’re making good on the sundry sins of your past by riding for—”

      “Oh, my gosh!” Jay slapped a hand to her mouth, lowering her jaw and widening her eyes in shock. “In all the commotion, I forgot that Bledsoe sent word earlier.”

      “Bledsoe did?” both Slash and Pecos said at the same time.

      “Yes, yes. One of his deputies came in to speak to me earlier. The chief marshal wants you boys to ride out to the old Cormorant Saloon. For a powwow, as the deputy put it. I assume Bledsoe has some trouble he needs his former cutthroats to iron out for him. I told the deputy when you two were due back, so he’s likely been waiting for you.”

      Slash cursed and looked at Pecos, who glowered and shrugged. “So much for lettin’ our hair down.” He glanced from Slash to Jay, adding, “And for . . .” He let his voice trail off, dropping his sheepish gaze to the floor.

      “For what?” Jay asked, frowning at Slash.

      Slash’s cheeks burned with both embarrassment and anger. The anger was directed at his partner. Pecos always seemed to get a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease at the most inopportune time.

      “Nothin’,” Slash said quickly, absently brushing his hand across his coat pocket—the one in which his mother’s ring resided. “We was just hopin’ to have a few drinks and a slow, leisurely supper, is all. But, now, I reckon we’d best . . .”

      Jay turned to the town marshal, who was walking around, staring down at each of the dead men in turn. “They can go—can’t they, Cisco? I’ll tell you the whole story and sign whatever needs signing. I assure you Slash and Pecos were acting in self-defense.”

      “That’s all I need, then.” The handsome town marshal glanced over his shoulder at Slash and Pecos. “I’m sure Chief Marshal Bledsoe needs you more than I do. If there are any holes left in the affidavit after I’ve talked with Jay about what happened here, I’m sure we can fill them in when you return. Good luck, gentlemen.” Walsh smiled his broad, handsome smile once more, turning to face the two cutthroats, adding, “It was nice to meet you both. Don’t worry about Jay.”

      He switched his warm smile to the copper-haired beauty standing beside Slash, flushed more than ever. “I’ll take very good care of her while you’re away. Rest assured.”

      Slash could almost feel the electricity popping around inside of Jay as she stood beside him, exchanging nauseating grins with the badge-toting fancy Dan. Slash just stood there, silently fuming, clenching his fists at his sides, until Pecos reached out and grabbed his arm, and gave it a tug.

      “Come on, Slash. You heard the lady. Ole Bleed-Em-So’s waitin’ on us. If we don’t want him bleedin’ us, we’d best hightail it.”

      Slash had been in a trance of sorts. When Pecos