CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Those who considered themselves the good citizens of

Peaceville didn"t go to bed after witnessing the scene in

front of the sheriff"s office. Edge, stretched out on his own

bed in the hotel room, awake and fully dressed, staring up

at the ceiling and thinking out a plan of campaign, neither

knew nor cared what the town"s people were doing. He had

stood at the window for several minutes after returning to

the hotel room, watched as the street cleared of people save

for Bell and Seward on sentry duty up on the sidewalk: and

the grisly severed head, tipped over on its right side in the

dust. But that couldn"t count because no part of Sheriff

Peacock could be considered people any more.

There was a period of activity a few moments later

when Forrest, Douglas and Scott emerged from the office

and swaggered across the street to the Rocky Mountain

Saloon. Bringing up the rear, Seward could not resist a

sadistic kick at the head, which arced clumsily over the

sidewalk to smash a window on the side of the street Edge

had only a restricted view of. When the five had entered the

swinging doors of the saloon, Edge could hear some shouts,

a woman"s response and then some laughter. Then peace

returned to Peaceville, apparently for the duration of the

night if its citizens were prepared to allow it to be so.

Edge wasn"t.

So he lay on the bed, contemplating the ceiling,

wondering how the murderers of Jamie were going to die.

Then the rap of knuckles on the door sent his hand to the

floor to snatch up the Henry and he was suddenly sitting

up, rifle aimed, finger on the trigger.

“Come in slow and live longer, “ Edge said, narrowed

eyes glinting through the darkness which was suddenly

split by a line of light, widening as the door was pushed

120

further into the room, leaving a section of the hallway to

view. Edge"s finger whitened on the trigger, eased slightly

when he saw Gail step into view. She looked afraid. Edge

licked his lips. “Last year I blasted what I took to be a

nightmare,” he said evenly. “Turned out I half killed a

corporal come to wake me up. You ain"t no nightmare, but

best you say something so I know you ain"t a dream.”

Gail swallowed hard, stepped closer to the door.

“We"ve had a meeting,” she said, and the words rasped

over her nervousness.

“We?”

“The Citizen"s Council,” she explained, gaining a

little confidence. “Honey"s a member. When they made

their decision he suggested I come to see you. He thought

you and I…well that we were friends.”

Edge heard the shuffle of feet in the hallway, out of

the angle of view and he was suddenly off the bed, standing

in a crouch, the Henry"s muzzle swinging from one side to

the other. But then Honey forced a smile to her lips and

raised a hand in a gesture of peace.

“Honey"s here,” she said. “And Mr. Chase, the

banker. Eddie Old the schoolmaster and Reverend Peake.

We"re a deputation Mr. Edge.”

Edge shook his head. “I don"t want no deputation.

They had you come here, you knocked and you"ve spoken

up till now. You say the rest.”

Gail looked to either side of the doorway, and the

man"s voice said something in low tones, the sense of

which did not reach the interior of the room. Then the girl

held out her hand, received something and dropped to her

side again. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, just

across the threshold, not really in the room.

“The town"s Citizen Committee had a meeting and

decided it had to rid itself of the gang of vicious swine

which is trying to take it over,” she paused, to see if this

stirred anything in the taciturn Edge, and was disappointed

121

that he continued to look at her with complete disinterest.

She hurried on. “We – the me of the town anyway – could

go up against Forrest and his gang. And the committee"s

certain they could oust them but a lot of people would get

killed before it was all over.”

“You mean innocent people,” Edge said. “You said

innocent people down on the street awhile back.”

“Very well,” she replied with a show of impatience.

“Innocent people if you will. What do words matter at a

time like this?”

“They matter,” Edge came back. “You"re using them,

in a kind of sidestepping way, but I figure I get your drift.

You want me to put my life on the line by going up against

Frank Forrest and the rest.”

Gail nodded. “Yes, that"s it. I wouldn"t have put it

that way. But we want you to rid Peaceville of that

vermin.”

“No matter how you put it, comes out the same,”

Edge said and in a dimly lit room Gail could not see if his

grin was touched by humor. “Guess I haven"t led an

entirely blame-free life,” he went on. “No...no, I guess

nobody could call me innocent. I get killed, well...”

“Oh you won"t get killed,” Gail said. “I"m sure you"re

better than all them put together. You thought you were,

awhile back.”

Edge didn"t like getting caught out by Gail, and was

suddenly angry. She heard it in his tone as he spoke: “How

much you offering?” The words seemed to be thrown at

her, hard and fast like bullets.

She raised her arm from her side, offering him a

handful of bills. “Five hundred dollars,” she told him.

Edge nodded. “That"s a hundred dollars a man.”

The girl drew in her breath, shocked. “You don"t have

to kill them. Just rid the town of them.”

“Throw the money across,” Edge told her and she

complied. Chase had obviously opened his bank. The notes

122

were new, held together in a block by a paper band. Edge

flipped through the money, enjoying the feel of its

newness. “You people are paying the freight,” he said,

looking to the doorway. “I make the rules on delivery.”

The girl looked to the left and right, and then back

into the room and nodded.

“They may be vermin,” Edge told her. “But I ain"t no

rat catcher. My way, and my way means dead.”

Gail nodded again. Not liking it, her expression

showing that she regarded Edge as no better than the men

she had just paid him to kill. There was more murmuring

down the hall and Gail looked away from the door, nodded

and returned her attention to Edge.

“We"d appreciate it if you didn"t take too long, Mr.

Edge.”

“I don"t work too long for five hundred,” he

answered. “It"ll just cover the night. If any of them are still

alive tomorrow, the town will have to pass the hat again.”

The girl"s lips tightened and there was more

murmuring from the unseen Citizens Committee. It had a

dissenting sound. Edge made a motion with his free hand.

“Now get out of here and tell them to stay off the

street if they don"t want their innocent heads blown off.”

The girl returned to the hallway, pulling the door

closed and Edge realized he could have been wrong, but

just as her face disappeared from view, it showed a flicker

of concern. Alone, he grinned and flicked through the five

hundred, enjoying again the feel of the crisp new bills.

Getting paid to do something he had intended to do anyway

was unexpected and added flavor to the experience. It

didn"t make him anymore determined to succeed but it

added fullness to the anticipation. After the sound of

shuffling feet in the hallway had diminished, he spent thirty

minutes cleaning and oiling the Henry and the Remington,

polishing the blades of the razor and knife until they

gleamed. Then he climbed out of the window onto the roof

123

of the porch and prized back the board to add the five

hundred to his capital.

The town was almost silent, with nothing moving on

the street, and everywhere in darkness except the Rocky

Mountain Saloon, from whence came the only sounds.

These were of conversation, pierced by occasional laughter,

and the clink of bottle neck on glass rim. Edge"s footfalls

on the wooden planking sounded like thunder and he spent

a few moments removing his boots. Then he moved

forward again, testing each step before he took it, searching

for planks that creaked.

A sound down the street caused Edge to freeze and he

peered down, saw a large white dog dart out of an

alleyway, skid to a momentary halt and then run in a wide

circle with a bark of joy. Edge saw the sheriff"s head

swinging from its slavering jaws.

“Guess you just lost your head, sheriff,” Edge

murmured as he stepped across the narrow gap that

separated the hotel porch from that of the saloon.

124