8
The whole saloon seemed to be holding a breath in anticipation. Adam dropped his chair down to all four legs and pushed it away from the table, scraping the floor. Hoss' hand shot out and grabbed Adam's wrist.
"Don't, Adam," Hoss said in a low voice." Rollo's just tryin' to provoke you."
"He's accomplished his task. I have to do something about him. I have to shut his mouth permanently and anyone else's who may be thinking of joining in."
"He'll kill you, Adam. Hell, I don't even mess with that mean sonofabitch. He's got thirty pounds on me and almost a head taller. Let's just leave."
"Can't, Hoss. Now, let me go."
"Want me to back you?" Hoss stood as well, his chair making a scraping sound as he pushed it back and placed his hand on the butt of his gun.
"No. Just pick me up off the floor, carry me out and take me home—or to the undertaker's as the case may be." Adam took off his gun belt, coiled it and handed it to Hoss.
Adam stepped out and faced Rollo who had turned and was leaning against the bar, his elbows on the wooden counter. He smirked as Adam stood in the middle of the room; he had angered Adam Cartwright and would now have the pleasure of beating that pretty-boy face into a pulp.
"Now look, you two," Harley said. "Take any fighting outside. I don't want no damage in here." But neither man paid the barkeep any attention.
"Seems to me, Rollo," Adam started," that when your mouth's not full of another man's cock, you have nothing else to do with it but to run it and let shit pour out. Maybe you should just leave—hurry back to the ranch. Isn't Maxwell waiting for his bitch to come home so he can ram it up your ass?" Adam said as he braced for the punch that he knew was coming.
Hoss groaned. Adam didn't need to antagonize Rollo, in his opinion. There was no walking away now.
And Rollo's face screwed up with fury. He pushed himself away from the bar, roaring and swung out a huge fist. Adam side-stepped and then, as Rollo stumbled trying to stop his momentum to keep himself from falling over the nearest table, Adam pushed him over it with a hard shove to the buttocks with a booted foot. Now Rollo was angrier than he had been. Everyone was watching and Adam Cartwright had humiliated him in more than one way.
Rollo stood up after disentangling himself from the overturned chairs and table. "I'm gonna kill you with my bare hands, you mother-fuckin' sonofabitch but first I'm gonna shove this here knife up your ass all the way to your throat and slice off your fuckin' tongue," Rollo said, pulling out his knife.
Adam said nothing—just waited but the knife made him nervous.
Harley hurried out from behind the bar and sent Lil, the salon girl, to fetch Sheriff Coffee. "Tell him that Adam Cartwright is about to be killed by Rollo, Maxwell's man. And hurry, Lil." She ran out the saloon into the nightfall to find the sheriff or Deputy Clem.
A click of a gun hammer could be heard and Rollo turned to the sound. Hoss had his gun pointed at Rollo. "Drop the knife, Rollo, or you'll die holdin' it. This is gonna be a fair fight. Now drop it and kick it over to me."
Rollo, stood for a few moments holding the knife, breathing heavily. Then he looked back at the knife in his hand, back at Hoss and dropped the knife. The clattering sound was the only one in the saloon.
"Now kick it here," Hoss said. Rollo did and Hoss, still eyeing Rollo, picked it up and then slowly let the hammer down on his gun. Then all eyes turned back to Adam and Rollo.
Rollo moved around Adam and then swung out again but this one caught Adam and his head went back sharply as Rollo's fist landed with a painful blow on his left cheekbone. Hoss cringed as Adam fell backwards, stunned. Rollo loomed over him grinning and reached down and grabbed Adam by the shirt-front and jerked him up, ready to slam his fist again into Adam's face but Adam had enough control of his faculties to raise his knee and slam it into Rollo's groin. It wasn't considered particularly fair fighting but Hoss knew that afterwards, no one would blame Adam; when it came to Rollo, you either defended yourself any way you could or be maimed or dead.
Rollo let go of Adam as he grabbed his midsection and doubled over, his mouth gaping. Adam knew this would be his only chance. He swung up and caught Rollo in the throat. The big man fell and Adam grabbed him by the shirt, raising him slightly while Rollo struggled to breathe, his hands going to his throat. Adam kneeled over him and slammed his fist into Rollo's face again and again, ignoring the pain that shot through his hand.
Blood gushed forth from Rollo's nose and his mouth; he made small grunting noises as a gurgling sound was deep in his throat. Adam hammered into Rollo and the blood splattered over Adam's shirt, Rollo's shirt and on the floor. Rollo's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his head fell back limply. Adam released him and stood up.
"He's still breathin'," a bystander said who walked closer and looked down at the prone body.
Adam looked around. He knew that he had to make this the last fight, make it the last time he would have to defend Ultima from insults and slanders, to make certain that no one, absolutely no one dared say anything about her again. Adam walked over and picked up the spittoon that Rollo had used as a chamber pot a few minutes earlier, the brass still warm from the urine. Adam tossed the whole contents on Rollo who came to consciousness from the liquid thrown on him. The bystanders chuckled and even Harley had to smile. Rollo lay there with blood, tobacco sputum and his own piss on him.
To make his victory absolute, as Rollo watched him through swollen, half-opened eyes, Adam unbuttoned his pants and urinated on Rollo, the full stream hitting the man on the neck and chest and splashing on his face.
No one said anything but some of the people gave a slight gasp. Adam gave a slight hitch to his pants, tucked himself back inside and buttoned them up. He put out his hand for his gun belt. Hoss handed it to him. Adam looked back down at Rollo and said, "Piss on you and if you ever say anything about my wife again, I'll kill you, spilt you open like a slaughtered beeve and feed your entrails to Hop Sing's pigs." Then Adam put on his hat which a saloon girl had picked up off the floor and handed to him, and walked out of the saloon, Hoss behind him, a small grin on his face.
"Damn, Adam. That Rollo's gonna be so fuckin' mad. You done humiliated him so much he's gonna havta leave town." Hoss laughed. "Goin' home now?"
"No." Adam shook his hand, blood flicking from it, and tried to flex it but the knuckles of his right hand were so swollen and bloody that he couldn't. "I think I broke my goddamn hand punching that sonofabitch." They both saw Sheriff Roy Coffee loping toward them with Clem and Lil behind. Both Coffee and Clem carried rifles.
"Lil here said that you were gonna be killed." Roy said, stopping in front of Adam.
"Well, obviously she was wrong—and don't look so damn disappointed."
Roy Coffee scrutinized Adam's face where his cheekbone had swollen, almost closing his left eye. "I tell you, Adam—that's one helluva black eye you got there. Looks like someone hit you with a sledgehammer."
"Yeah, well, that's what it felt like. I need to get to Doc's, that is if you have nothing else to chat about." And Adam strode away. Hoss just shrugged at Sheriff Coffee and followed Adam.
"Those Cartwright boys," Roy Coffee said in a disapproving tone. "I swear. I should just ban 'em from town. No sayin' what we'll find in the saloon." And the three people continued to The Silver Dollar.