Chapter Thirty-four
Fordham and Andrews returned to their table in the saloon. They watched Harper and strained their ears to listen to anything they might catch him saying as he talked with the women swooning near him, as well as the occasional man brave enough to speak to him. The crowd began to dwindle as many patrons finished their noon meal, or their just plain drinking, and returned to their work, making it easier to hear some of Harper's comments.
"Barkeep, git me a whole bottle. New. Never opened."
It was the first time the potential bushwhackers had heard Jess Harper's distinctive, husky baritone. And there was no mistaking the strength and confidence in the command as the Texan tossed some coins onto the bar.
"Nope." Harper shook his head at the bartender when the man extended an arm toward a shelf next to the large mirror on the wall. The harsh gaze he fixed on the barman froze the man's hand in mid reach. Harper wagged a finger toward the back of the bar and below the counter. "I want the good stuff. Strong and pure."
"Yes, sir. Of course." The bartender turned back, reaching to a shelf far below the counter to pull out a bottle of the more expensive whiskey that had not been watered down. He set the bottle in front of Harper and scooped the money into his palm.
"That cover it?"
"Yes, sir. And then some, sir. I'll get your change."
"Keep the extra, friend. Divide it amongst yourself and the two purty ladies here." Harper grinned and winked at the women who had initially propositioned him. They gratefully responded with flirtatious smiles and batted eyelashes, obviously anticipating an exciting time ahead.
Much to their disappointment, the handsome man disengaged himself from the two women lavishing attention on him. He bid them so long, grabbed the bottle, and started toward the front door.
"Aw, Jess, honey, you're not leaving already are you? Surely, you won't wanna be downing that entire bottle alone." One of the women pouted her lips.
"Yeah, sugar. We could have us a real nice party. We were hoping to spend some more time with ya." The other woman locked eyes with Harper and then glanced suggestively at the top of the stairway and back to him.
"Maybe I'll be back to see ya sometime, girls. Ain't gonna be tonight though. Got some business to see to." Harper tipped his hat and again headed for the batwings.
Fordham and Andrews noticed the knowing looks among several men in the saloon, as they nodded toward each other.
"Boy howdy," one of the cowpokes near Fordham said under his breath to the companion at his side. "I sure wouldn't want to be the one Harper plans to tangle with when he sees to business."
"Me neither." His friend tapped his holster and shook his head.
The Texan hadn't taken more than three steps when another voice from the back of the saloon interrupted his progress. "Mister Harper! Hey, Mister Harper!"
Again, Harper halted. He turned to face the fifteen-year-old who had just come through the back door, mop in hand.
"Howdy, Jimmy."
"Sure good to see you up and about, Mister Harper. I was mighty worried. Heard you were flat out on your back, hurtin' real bad."
Harper grinned. "Don't believe everything ya hear, Jimmy. Some folks got a knack for tellin' tall tales."
"So you're okay then?"
"Sure." The gunhawk nodded confidently, with the tone of his voice matching the certainty in his stance. "I'm fine."
"You certainly are, hon," a third saloon girl cooed, while a fourth smiled seductively at him.
Harper smiled at them and touched his fingers to the brim of his Stetson. Then he started forward again.
But as he passed the table where Fordham and Andrews sat, he made a point of slowing his stride so that as he was next to them he nearly came to a standstill. He cast a glare in the direction of the two men, making sure to meet each set of brown eyes. The threat in the unblinking dark blues was so clear it was almost as though it had come through his lips.
Fordham gulped. The breath whooshed out of Andrews' lips before he quickly tilted his head down. Harper stalked onward, as both men's gaze followed the confident swagger.
"We ain't gonna be able to take him, Fordham," Andrews whispered. "He's got 'professional' wrote all over 'im."
Fordham chewed his lip. "Well… it's a heck of a lot of money to let go by the wayside."
"But neither you nor me has ever just up and killed a man in cold blood. And that's the only way to even try to take Harper."
"And for six men, even that didn't work," Fordham mused quietly, pondering the fact under his breath.
Andrews shuddered. "Six that we know of. How many more that we ain't heard about?"
Fordham turned his beer mug back and forth on the table, as he considered all aspects of the Harper situation.
"Come on, pal. Think on this!" Andrews pleaded. "What about the way he looked at us? Looked right through us! It's like Jericho said. Harper just… knows. He knows, Fordham!"
The heavier man remained reluctant to give up on the prospect of his share of twelve hundred dollars.
Andrews' frustration grew. "Jericho says it ain't worth the risk. And he oughta know."
He waited, giving Fordham time to let what Cutchinson had said sink in. A couple of minutes passed as Andrews' heart pounded and he nervously watched and waited on his friend.
"A lot of money to turn down," Fordham repeated.
Andrews stared at him, his fear causing a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. What could he do to get through to his friend? To make him see their chances of success were nil. And the risk just wasn't worth it.
"But then…" Fordham gulped the rest of his beer. "I reckon dead men can't spend much money."
Andrews let out a relieved sigh at his friend seeing common sense. "Might as well go back to the ranch and tell Kerr we ain't interested in this gun job then. Right?"
Fordham nodded. "We just ain't the kind. Ain't got it in us for a job like this. We'll just stick to cattle drovin'."
He stood up, tossing a couple of coins on the table, and the two men headed outside.
They untied their horses' leads from the hitching rail near the saloon and stood there for a while, discussing ranch work and the upcoming trail drive.
Finally, Andrews' curiosity got to him. "Hey, Fordham, you heard what Harper said about business to take care of, didn't ya?"
"Yup."
"What you 'spose he's up to?"
"Got no idea. But we can prob'ly count ourselves plumb lucky to be left out of anything Harper's got in mind."