Footsteps on Hallowed Ground

Chapter 10 – The Truth Hurts

Bart sauntered into 'Sassy Sally's' a little before eight o'clock and got a cup of coffee from Ira, one of the nighttime bartenders. "Hey, Mr. Maverick. I just made a fresh pot. You get the first cup."

"Ira, I've told you before, call me Bart. Every time you say Mr. Maverick I look around for my pappy." He accepted the offered cup and swallowed a mouthful. It almost tasted like the black carada coffee he'd had in Carson City, and he wondered for a moment about Anderson Garrett and his daughter Rose. A letter from Anderson was overdue and he reminded himself to send a telegram and make sure everything was still good at the Garrett ranch. Then Ira said something to him and he had to have it repeated.

"Miss Sally asked if you'd come see her if you got in early."

"Thanks, Ira." Bart picked up his cup and walked back to Sally's office.

"Come in, ya tightwad!" Sally's voice bellowed.

"I hope you don't mean me," Bart remarked as he entered the office.

"Oh, hiya handsome," Sally said in a considerably quieter voice. "No, I sure didn't mean you. Come on in. There's somethin' I wanna talk to you about."

"What can I do for you, boss?"

"I got word that Hinkel's bunch is comin' in tonight. There's not one of 'em that I trust. I need you to be extra careful with 'em."

"You mean extra careful as in making sure they don't cheat?"

"You got it, cowboy. First time you catch one, come get me before you toss 'em out. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am. Won't be a problem."

She laughed that "Ah ha ha ha ha" laugh again. "Oh, there's gonna be a problem. But not for you. Orin and Rob have gotten into a 'tiff.' All I know is there's trouble comin' and I expect it tonight. So just be careful. I don't want anything happenin' to that gorgeous face of yours."

"That makes two of us, Sally. Anything else for tonight?"

"Yeah, Billy Westfall's already been tossed out. Don't let 'em back in."

"Anything to make you happy, boss." Bart grinned at her.

"I can think of a thing or two . . . . but you've got to get out on the floor. Don't forget, come and get me first."

"Yes, ma'am. Will do."

Hinkel's bunch was coming in tonight. Bart shrugged his shoulders, which slightly readjusted the shoulder holster he wore. He checked the derringer tonight before leaving to come in, so he knew it was loaded. He set his empty cup on the bar before taking a walk towards the roulette wheel. That was Ira's signal to refill it before he got back for his second pass on the floor.

Everything seemed relatively quiet right now, except for the slightly out-of-control cowboy at the roulette table. "What's the problem?" Bart asked quietly.

"Yer croupier is crappy," the cowboy babbled and laughed. It was obvious he'd had too much to drink, but Bart wanted to resolve the problem quickly and amicably.

"Give me the ball, Jack," Bart told the croupier, and he started the wheel spinning. "Place your bets," Bart called and set the ball in motion on the track. "Place your bets."

The wheel spun, the ball turned, and the cowboy laid his money down. The ball landed on thirty-six red. And the cowboy lost. "Still got a problem?" Bart asked. The cowboy walked away without saying anything else. Bart removed the ball from the wheel and handed it back to Jack.

"Thanks, Bart. He was gettin' a little out of control."

"He was gettin' a little out of the bottle," Bart remarked. He headed back up towards the poker tables and had just reached his refilled coffee cup when the pack entered the saloon.

That was the only thing Bart could call them. Hinkel sauntered in first, with ten or twelve of his so-called gang following closely on his heels. "Set 'em up, Ira!" he shouted, and everybody piled up against the bar. Bart picked up his cup and started to walk away when he heard Hinkel shout "Hey, floor man!"

He kept right on walking. "Floor man!" Hinkel yelled again, and this time he couldn't be ignored. Bart stopped and turned around, setting the coffee down on the table he was nearest to. He never said a word, and Hinkel just stared at him.

"Your name Maverick, floor man?" Hinkel asked in an exaggerated drawl.

"It is."

"You related to that Maverick I killed?"

'Stay calm, Bart,' he told himself. 'You couldn't outdraw him if you tried.' He finally answered, "My brother."

"You lookin' for a piece of me?"

"Nope," he said out loud, and to himself he finished, 'I'm lookin' for the whole thing.'

"Good," Hinkel answered. "Let's keep it that way." To his gang at the bar he said, "Just think, I could be the first man to single-handedly put brothers up on Boot Hill."

'You'll pay for that,' Bart thought. 'But not tonight and not here.' He picked his coffee back up and walked towards the poker tables. He heard laughter from the bar and was glad that he couldn't hear the rest of what was said.

He took over dealing at one of the tables when Sally needed the regular dealer in the back for a few minutes and was relieved that he was busy when Hinkel's men started to leave the bar and find poker games to join.

A few minutes later he was walking the floor again. He caught a card sharp reaching for an ace in his boot and put the man out, but Hinkel's men seemed to be behaving themselves. The night dragged on, and Bart stayed as far away from Rob as possible.

About two in the morning a particular game caught his eye, and he stood a few feet from the table and watched hand after hand until he was sure that somebody was dealing off the bottom of the deck. This table had a rotating deal, and it went around the table once more before Bart was certain who was doing the cheating. It was Ben Morissey, one of Hinkel's trusted lieutenants. He'd already started to walk away, back to Sally's office to get her and have Morissey thrown out when one of the other players at the table caught on.

"You're cheatin', Morissey," the man said. Bart had seen him in here three nights running but knew him only as Joe.

"Don't say things ain't got no truth to 'em," Morissey answered.

Bart stopped in his tracks. He sensed what was coming, and there was no time to get Sally. "I still say you're cheatin," Joe insisted.

Bart saw Morissey go for his gun, more than ready to shoot Joe for accusing him of cheating. Without thinking twice he grabbed the derringer and fired, hitting Morissey in the hand just as he started to shoot. The shot went wild and Morissey shrieked, which brought Hinkel running, guns drawn.

"What's goin' on here?' he growled.

"Morissey got caught cheatin'. He pulled his gun to shoot Joe and I shot him first. Get your man outta here, Hinkel."

To Bart's surprise, Hinkel holstered his guns and grabbed Morissey by the collar. He yanked the cheater to his feet and shoved him away from the table. "Get outta here, you idiot. I thought you was smarter than that." He looked down at Joe and said, "Take the pot. It's yours." He stared at Bart but never said anything. Then he shoved his lieutenant in front of him, all the way to the door, just as the marshal came running in. The wounded man hurried out and Hinkel strolled back to the bar. By this time Sally was making her way to Bart and Hillis was questioning Joe.

"Sorry boss, I tried. It was come get you or let Morissey shoot an innocent man."

Sally nodded her head. "You did the right thing, Bart. Hillis woulda had us closed down if you hadn't."

Bart watched the marshal grill the man he'd saved. Evidently satisfied with the answers he'd received, the lawman stalked towards Bart with a grim expression on his face. "Marshal, you have questions?"

Hillis shook his head. "Just one. Why do you always seem to be in the middle of trouble?"

Bart grinned. "Just lucky, I guess."

"I appreciate the fact that you didn't add to the population up on the hill."

'Oh, I will,' he thought. 'Just not that one.' "No need, Marshal. Just as easy as killin' him."

"Keep it that way, huh?" Satisfied that it all worked out for the best, the marshal made his way to the bar and Rob Hinkel. "Outside, Hinkel."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Marshal, sir," Hinkel answered, and strode outside with the lawman.

"What's goin' on, Hinkel?"

"Whatta ya mean, Chris?" The expression on the face was solemn, but the voice had an amused tone to it.

"Why'd you come to Sally's tonight? You wear out your welcome at Jake's?"

Hinkel chuckled. "Let's just say I needed to remind somebody they're not exempt from trouble."

"Maverick?" the marshal asked.

"Him? Naw, he's a small fish in a big pond. I've got more important things to think about."

"Even if he wants you dead?"

The expression on Hinkel's face changed. "Has he said that?"

"Didn't say he had."

The outlaw grinned at the last remark. "Oh, I see. Musclin' in on your territory, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Go right ahead and play dumb, Hillis. I've seen the way you look at the widow Clennon."

"You're so full of – go to hell, Hinkel. And keep your boys outta trouble."

Chris Hillis stalked away, not willing to listen to any more of the speculation. Rob Hinkel stood outside Sally's and laughed. "The truth hurts, don't it, Marshal?"