Chapter 10, Part Two

No Honor Ch. 10 Pt. 2: Seeing Ears

It was about four in the a.m., when I awoke. I was a little out of it, at the time. What I mean to say is, I was at the point where I could hear voices an' words, but I couldn't get their meaning. There was def'nitely somethin' up though, in the next room.

It wasn't the lovely couple this time. The bother was comin' from tha room ta my right, or south o' me. Their voices was raised... No, one of them was. The other man was quiet.

Again, I wasn't all there yet. I'd been dreamin' about, somethin' I can't recawl. My head ached, and it felt... foggy... is the best word for it. Then somethin' slammed against the wall, to my right, and I damn near leapt outta bed.

A man said, "Do you think I'm stupid, you dumb sonofabitch?"

The other voice was a man too, but I wasn't for sure right away. It was so low, it was hard to hear 'im. I heard him say, "No. No, I didn't...", but I couldn't make out the rest.

Somethin' hit the wall again, hard.

Was that the man's head? It sounded like it was about to come clean through, an' inta my room. My body was tense, and I was jumpy. I didn't want ta hear that noise again, but I wasn't sure I could stop it.

Again, the one man's voice came boomin' over...

"Bullshit! Brett an' Garth fuckin' seen it!

"Ya think people don't know whatchu look like? Huh? You think you can run, an' folk don't see where you gone?"

That thud boomed again, and I shuddered. That other man was cryin' now... Cryin'... It was soft, and weak, and buried under heavy, labored, wheezin' breaths.

The man tol' him ta "Shut up", and he started beatin' on 'im. His head didn't hit the wall again, but I swear I could hear every blow. Every one... and there was plenty ta hear.

I didn't know who was in the next room, but in my head, I could see the victim. It was Tom Goodman, on the floor over there. It was his head, cracked an' bleedin', his cryin', ruined face and his lungs, givin' up air. I wasn't part o' that dispute, and I know it wasn't my business, but a man can only take so much.

I started feelin' around, for my jeans and my gun belt. I had closed the curtains, and it was pitch in there, but I kept searchin'. My hands were shakin' an' I cringed, with every blow struck, but then they stopped completely. He was just cursin' at 'im then, and callin' him thangs I simply won't repeat.

I was wavin' my hands around, somethin' fierce. I didn't know if rushin' would do any good, and I didn't know if I was rushin' ta my own death. My heart was beating so hard my chest hurt, but I kept on searchin'. When I finally laid hand on my Colt, I heard a gunshot.

I froze. For a minute, I wasn't sure whether or not I had done that. It had gotten dead silent... No more blows, or cryin, or cursin'. There was just crows, cawing far off, in tha distance.

The door to that room opened then, I'm sure of it... The door opened and the killer walked out. He didn't run, he didn't hurry at all, and why would he? What sheriff was around, ta get 'im? 

I had a mind ta throw my gunbelt on, and go out after 'im.  But then, what was I gonna do? Kill the first man I saw? Go out in my undergarments, and my belt, like a crazy, and kill someone, for bein' in a hallway? 

Who's to say, whether or not there'd be more than one, by the time I got out there? If there was one, who's to say the killer was him, and not some other man, slipped out some otha way? I just sat there in bed, with my gun belt in my lap. I didn't move for hours. 

Around a quarter to seven, I got hungry, so I went downstairs to order somethin'. When I got down there though, I had forgotten that reason entirely. That same damn boy was at the counter again. I walked up to 'im, and he raised his eyebrows.

I said, "Someone been shot. Upstairs... Three Twenty-Nine". 

                        
"Dead?"

I nodded. His expression was still blank, and it never changed. He just put up a sign, sayin' he'd be back, in ten minutes, and then he disappeared behind a curtain. I went outside.

It was lightenin' up, quite a bit, and I got a chance ta see The Station, durin' early mornin'. Ernest De La Rosa, the photographer an' tailor, was hangin' up clothes in his main winda. Mr. Stevens, the gardner, was waterin' plants an' soil, in front of his home. At the bake-ry, young Mr. Butler was shapin' dough, ta make biscuits, and it was just like regular, just like normal.

There's a set o' benches, in front o' the hotel, but I didn't use 'em. I just kept pacin', back an' forth, in front of 'em. People started ta pass me, and I don't recawl if any stared, but if they did, I just kept pacin'. Back and forth, back and forth regardless.

Somewheres around that time, I heard the cawing o' crows again. I did see a bunch, far off in the distance. They was flyin' away from this place, and hopefully, ta somethin' much better. That cawin' though, it sounded a lot closer than it shoulda been.

But I kept pacin' back and forth, back and forth, like I didn't know where to go. Like I was an animal stuck in a cage, or caught in a trap. Part of me wanted to stop and siddown, but I just didn't. I kept pacin', back and forth, back and forth... and there was tears in my eyes.

---------------------------------

Chapter 10, Part One

No Honor Ch. 10 Pt. 1: Moving Day

When all was said an' done, I didn't leave The Stable with that much. Cliff didn't know where Jonas was stayin', or for how long, and there was no address ta wire if I missed 'im. Still, the fact that Jonas was in town was somethin', and I woulda reported it right away, 'cept Carter never told me how. I wondered how that slipped by 'im; last time I saw 'im, he found me.

I went back to my house, an' waited awhile. Shadow was gone, so I knew he wasn't there, and I didn't know when he'd show... or if. Damn fool. After an hour I gave up an' left; I was sure I'd run inta 'im, eventually.

It was Sunday, an' I was off, so I figured I'd best get on to Henrietta's, an' get that over an' done with. Now that the day had come, I realized I really, really didn't wanna do it. I had already been a regular at that hotel, years before, so I was no stranger to it.

When I first opened the bar, I slept in one o' the rooms upstairs, but more and more, that got difficult. People needed those rooms, for other business, and I made a good dollar, chargin 'em fer tha rights. I used the hotel a long, long time after that; but eventually, I got enough funds and materials, to make my own home; so, that's what I did... I didn't want to go backwards, but here I was, doin' it.

The hotel is four stories, wit' four rows o' rooms, in each. Inside, everythang just looks... dull. It don't look old, like The Stable does, it just looks uncared for. It all needs a new coat o' paint.

The lobby desk is wide, an' made o' ol' oak. Behind it was this kid; he couldn'ta been more than say, eighteen... No one that age should even be in this town.

I said, "Are you lost?"

I just got this blank stare.

He said, "Single bed rooms is awl that's available. No doubles, no suites."

"Got somethin' by tha windas?"

I agreed to their ridiculous nightly fee, got my keys and headed to the third floor. The room was mis'rable; a bed, a closet by the bed, that was it. I'd have to walk from the third floor, down the steps an' outside to the outhouse, to take a leak. If I wanted hot water to bathe in, I'd have to put in a request, to heat the daily ration, and I'd get a small tub in the mornin'.

Great service, I'm tellin' ya. Go ahead an' order food. It'll be two hours, before you even get an apple. I guess when there's no alternatives, you win by default.

I decided ta kick back and read.  "Frankenstein"... an awesome tale. Read it before as a kid, an' it gave me chills. I was just inta tha first part, with tha letters, when I got interrupted.

See, not only are the rooms small, the walls are thin too. I heard a door close, and then a man and a woman talkin'. They was negotiatin' price, and right away I thought, "Skin deal." Sure enough, two or three minutes later, I'm hearin' moanin' an' jumpin' bed springs, an' "Oh, yes!", and all that other shit.

Fine..  Nothin' wrong with that. I mean, I was just gettin' comf'table an' awl, but have a good time, shit... Why the hell not?

Anyways, it was a hooker an 'er John, not some lovin' couple, so I figured it wouldn't last long. It actually only took fifteen minutes. So I removed the pilla, from around my head, and kept readin'... You know. Whatever.

After another fifteen minutes, they were at it again.

I decided to fuck off to somewhere else. I couldn't hear myself thinkin', but I realized, that I had to use the crapper. I went outside to one o' their outhouses, which was the same as all over The Station... Small, wooden stall, wit' a hollow seat that leads to a pit.

If yer lucky, the roof on 'em is good, and the weather is kept out. If ya ain't... well...  It's a free shower, isn't it?

I spent a good hour in there. I didn't have to go that long, but I was readin', an givin' the John time enough, to get the full service tune up. I was sure they were through, after then though. Behind the seat was a can fulla corncobs, for wipin': I finished up, and then I thought about,  maybe gettin' another book.

Couldn't hurt, and I'd be doubly sure o' quiet, when I got back. So, I took a stroll up to First, and inta tha letter-writer's place. He sells some books there, as well, an' I picked through 'em. I wound up leavin wit' "Three Musketeers."

Then it was off to the butcher shop,  on Second. I had supper there, before returnin' to the hotel, and trust me, that's a smart idea. Back in the room all was quiet, so I dug inta my new book. After nightfall, I heard low moanin', an' then loud moanin', an' then thumpin', louder than ever.

What... the hell? I know this man ain't got that much money. After twenty minutes or so, they were through, but then... one hour later... Round Four, Round-fuckin'-four!

I wasn't leavin' again. I just wrapped that pilla 'round my head, an' closed my eyes. At some point, I got to sleep.

------------------------------

Chapter 9, Part Three

No Honor Ch. 9 Pt. 3: Myth & Mystery

There's no town, or city, or any community anywhere without water, and The Station has two places, where you kin get it. One is Marco's personal well, on the south corner o' the steps, leading up to his home. That estate is closed off by a gate, which means that the water there is for Marco, and his group o' pals only. Everyone else, rich or poor, young or old, has to go to The Stable on Third.

Even the water at the hotel, comes from that same source, and their daily ration there, is barely enough to bathe in. So people are common at the main well, if they have steeds and if they don't. That afternoon, the line to the well was long, and the trough behind it was packed from end ta end, with the snouts o' thirsty horses. I walked round these folks, and The Mexicans that were chargin' em, and inta the open front doors, of the building itself.

The Stable's not a huge place, but it was made to house as many horses, as humanely possible; and that it did perfectly. Though it had the look of a place well in its years, it'd been kept solid. You could tell lots o' regular maint'nence had been done. All the guests inside belong to out-o'-towners, 'tourists', and there's hay enough, to keep 'em satisfied.

Clifford's in his thirties. He took over the place just three years back, and he's been in town about that long. When I saw him, he was forkin' hay inta the horse's stalls, and whistlin'.

I said, "Can I get ya ta break for a minute?"

He said, "Mister Wayne, absolutely... What can I do ya for, sir?"

"I'm lookin' for someone you mighta seen. A doctor, by the name o' Jonas."

"Jonas... Rex Jonas?"

"I believe so. I got an issue I'd like to meet with him about, but I don't know where ta send the wire."

"Well, you don't need no wire, Mr. Jonas is here."

"Is that right?"

"Yessir. That there is his stallion."

I looked in the stall where he pointed. There was a beautiful, dark animal in there; he had a reddish-brown coat, but his mane and his eyes were solid black.

Cliff said, "He arrived with two other gentlemen last night. From what I hear, they was lucky ta make it."

"Rough weather?"

"Not what I meant. Accordin' ta the grapevine, some o' Marco's soldiers went missin' last night. Three of 'em...  One second, they on they nightly rounds, the next? No one knows..."

There was this little smile on 'is face.

I said, "Well, you're obviously tickled about it."

"I don't mind it at all. You can call me a liar, if you please, but Marco's a rat bastard, and a thief... He claimed I owed him more than I did, plenty o' times, and I ain't the only one he pulled that on."

My anger must have shown on my face, cause he looked at me and nodded.

I said, "You ain't a liar."

"Well," he said, "I think he's gonna get what's comin' to 'im. I think his boys're gonna get what's comin' ta them, and everyone in this town owes somethin', is gonna have to pay up, now that The Reaper's here."

"The Reaper?.. You think Carter Moon is The Grim Reaper?"

"Naw, I don't think it, it's Marco's boys that's sayin' it. But they don't really say 'Reaper' though... They just call him 'Death'."

---------------------------

Chapter 9, Part Two

No Honor Ch. 9 Pt. 2: Query

I asked the boys at my bar about Jonas, but I got nothin' from them. I was wary about askin' everyone, since I reckon it'd seem suspicious. My next best bet was Donny Wilson, and fortunately, he was back in town from Texas, with that liquor we ordered.

Dave paid him, and got to puttin' those bottles inta stock. Donny chatted with Geoff a bit, since he was on 'is break, and I think he was set to leave afta that. Before then though, I made sure to catch his eye.

"Want a whiskey?"

Don said, "Aw, what the hell? I was gonna get on, but I'll have a quick one, sure."

I waved him up to the counter and I started fixin' his sour, like he likes it, and then I said, "What's the word from the States?"

"Same as ever... shootin's, elections, whorin' and Sunday School... The biggest stink now though, is comin' from the preachers. Alcohol's the Devil's will-and-blood, accordin' ta them."

"It may be at that", I said. "I don't ever see no drunk goin' off, ta do somethin' useful."

"Let me tell you somethin'. They could lock you, and Dave, and Wally, and everyone else away. They could shut down this bar, and every one like it. They could take awl the rollin' papers, and paint, and every drug off the shelf, but a man's gonna find a way ta relax, and a way ta have fun, and that's the end of it."

Geoff said, "Amen! Amen brotha Don."

We all laughed at that.

I needed to bring the conversation down some though, so the bar didn't have it's ear ta us. Time to go somber, I thought.

"You hear about Goodman?"

Don said, "First thing when I got back. It's a bad deal, there's no denyin' it. But with that freak around, you kin expect a lot worse."

"Anyone else light any candles?"

"I'm sure some did, even with that warnin'. No one else's been killed for it, but Marco's got his boys on patrol, every night, keepin' folks honest."

That helped a bit. I saw that Geoff and Dave broke off, ta talkin' on their own at some point, and there were fewer eyes on us. Right then, Walt came down from upstairs, and then he came back behind the bar, ta get my ear.

"We got three sleepers", he said.

Don said, "Sleepers? Can't nobody hold their liquor no more?"

I took the opportunity ta lean in close, and whisper to 'im.

"No, he means three dead... Overdose cases. Probably some young fools, mixed morphine wit' alcohol, insteada club soda."

"Oh... I get it."

I turned to Wally. "We better get 'em out quick, before the crowd's in. Take Dave, and dump 'em out back, and off a ways. I'll tend bar 'till it's done."

"Yessir."

I refilled Don's glass, and then I came in close, and said, "Hey, by the way Don, I need some help on that front. That morphine shit freaks me out, but I need somethin' fer my ol' back problem, and I'm hopin' you got some connections."

"Connections for what? You got a whole shelf full o' medicine behind ya."

"C'mon, be serious. You want me ta serve drinks while I'm drunk of my ass? That don't work."

"Alright, alright look. I only do the drink, but from what I heard, if you want medicine in The Station, you gotta see Rex."

"Rex? Who the hell is that?"

"Some doctor, or wanna-be doctor, hell, I don't know. He's no regular around here though, so I ain't got a callin' card."

"Huh", I said. "I think I mighta heard o' him. Is he a short guy by chance?"

Don nodded. "That's the one. He don't like it, when you point out his height though. I figure, if you gonna be sensitive about it, get some lifts in ya shoes. From all I kin tell, he kin afford 'em."

"So how do I find 'im?"

"I said I don't know. Look, you want my advice, go down to The Stable an' see Cliff. If anyone has the word on out-o'-towners, it's him."

Why didn't I think o' that before? The Stable's the one place everyone's gotta go... Out o' towner, Station resident, doesn't matter. Not just fer shelter, an' hay for the horses, but because the main well's right in front o' the place.

I said, "Thank you Donny."

He said, "Ey ey!... One more on the house, right?"

I smiled. Of course I had ta pay the man.

"One more Whiskey Sour, on me, you got it. "

-----------------------------

Chapter 9, Part One

No Honor Ch. 9 Pt. 1: Novice

You'd think that livin' in a place as crazy, as this town gets, I'd be packin' a pistol, more often than not. Durin' my first few years here though, I learned that carryin', was a bad policy. Ya see, when you always got a gun on ya, people expect ya, ta settle things with it.

Every argument turns to a life o' death thang. And if it don't, an' you walk away... you look bad. If they wanna shoot ya, and you ain't got no gun, they look bad. It's simple, and it kept me alive in the town a long time. All I needed, was my shotgun behind the bar, and my pistol in the closet at home.

Well, Hombre made me think twice about that.

I had brought my pistol, with my otha thangs, when I had set up at Dave's house. I pulled it out, and I looked at it; my own Colt Walker... dusty and dull, from years wit'out use. I took it apart an' cleaned it, and I put on my gun belt, an' placed it in the holster.

It was a weight I hadn't felt in years, and by all rights, it didn't weigh enough. Even so, I hated it, an' I was eager to be rid of it, as soon as I put it on. Before anything could get back to regular though, I had to get Carter to move on; an' maybe findin' this Richard Jonas would help.

See, I reckon, that the only way Carter coulda known, about Roy bein' too ill to travel, was if this Jonas had told him. That meant, that Jonas probably helped Roy, at the start of it. So, you gotta figure, that Moon flashed some cash, and got 'im to loosen 'is tongue... Not enough to give Larson up though; no man that wants to be no doctor, is gonna sell out a patient.

But maybe Moon got somethin' on 'im now. Some ace in the hole, to bribe, or blackmail 'im. That story about that laudanum was bullshit; I'm sure of it. Since Carter showed, his mind hadn't left Larson for two seconds.

Well, I figured I'd best start where he did. After I got everything packed, and ready to go, I walked back down to Fourth, an' knocked on Millie's door. The one that answered, was that girl from a few nights back; the one that Millie saved, from that 'unique' young man.

She was somethin', now that I saw her up close. Her hair was practically ironed flat, her shoulders were wide, and she was curvy. She was tall too, about my height without heels, and her eyes were level with my own. I had ta wonder, what horrible things she'd done, to deserve a life like she had, an' where she was at.

She said, "Hi... kin ah help ya with somethin'?"

"Could you tell Millie that Wayne's here to see her?"

"She sick", she said. "Ah kin tell her you stopped by, but... she ain't really seein' anyone."

"That's alright. Maybe you kin help me. I'm lookin' to get word to a Richard Jonas, an' I was hopin' you'd be able to wire 'im for me."

Somethin' happened then, with her. I saw a little hesitation there, and a pause ta think, and then she said, "Ah don't think ah know a Richard Jonas."

Bullshit. But why lie about it? Was she protectin 'im? And if so, what was Jonas worried about?

I said, "It's really important, this message. Ya see my back is killin' me... It's an ol' injury, from younger days, and I need a prescription, and advice."

She nodded. "Ah understand, but ah just don't recawl 'im, an' ah wouldn't know, ha ta send word to 'im."

"What about Millie? I'm sure she knows 'im... Could you pass it on ta her?"

She looked away, and frowned some. There was some annoyance there, an' I reckon she wasn't comf'table, but I waited, like I didn't notice a thing.

She said, "Well, ah kin try... but...she's really in a bad way...and you should know that she's mournin' right naow...

"Ya see... we lost a girl...at Henrietta's... an' Millie ain't been takin' it well."

I gave my condolences, and I thanked her for whatever help she could give me. That was just an act though; a formal close o' business. I knew damn well I'd swung an' missed, and I thought about my next up ta bat.

-------------------------------

Chapter 8, Part Two

No Honor Ch. 8 Pt. 2: Narcotic

Shadow trotted off. Carter was curled up on the ground, and Hombre was flat on 'is back. I heard feet movin' and birds flyin', and doors closin' an' lockin'. Soon enough, the street was deserted, besides the three of us.

I said, "You alright?"

"No", Carter said.

"Shit... You shot?"

He sighed. "I wish."

I got up and leaned over 'im. He wasn't bleedin' anywheres; it looked like he just took a bad fall. Hombre was dead, though. Carter's bullet hit 'em right above the collarbone.

"Mexican", Carter said.

He pushed hisself up a bit, wit 'is right arm, while his left was protectin' his side.

"All you had to say was 'Mexican'... or 'gun'... or somethin', gimme somethin!"

"Sorry."

He was searchin' his pockets. "Why couldn't that bastard come at me on my left? Why'd it have to be my right side, Jesus Christ!"

He finally found it, a small glass jar filled with... somethin'.

Was that laudanum? It looked like someone scraped rust off o' somewheres, then melted it down inta liquid.

He got on, wit' screwin' that top off, and then he said, "Do me a favor, please. Whistle three times for my horse. Two short, one longer".

The underside o' the jar lid had a dropper. He put one drop o' that stuff on his tongue, and he made a face like he was suckin' on a spoiled lemon. Another drop, then he started puttin' the top back on. He saw me lookin' at him, but then he quickly looked away.

Well, I did what he asked me, and we waited awhile. I did it again, and again, nothing happened.

I looked at Carter.

He said, "One more time. She's just frightened."

So, I whistled. Two short bursts and a longer one. After a pause, I heard hooves, and finally, she appeared from behind some houses, a street up.

I said, "How you so good with this horse already?"

"I can't thank you enough for Shadow", he said. "She been trained, by someone real good. All she had to learn, was my signals",  

Shadow stopped in front of Moon, and he crawled around to her right flank before grabbing the saddle, and hoisting hisself up. Her coat was moist with sweat, and at the slightest touch, she quivered.

I said, "She don't like gunfire, do she?"

"Naw", he said. "She hates it."

I shook my head. "I don't think this relationship's gon' work out."

He took his time, with gettin' his left leg over the saddle. It was just painful to watch, and I had to wonder again, if he was crazy, or bold, or just bull-headed and stupid. We heard raised voices then, and up the street we saw two more Mexicans, lookin' at us and their fallen amigo. I wondered if they was gonna attack us, but they turned and ran towards First Street instead, probably to go get more of 'em.

I said, "Is there anything else I kin do fer you? 'Cause I'm not waitin' for the cavalry."

"Any word on Larson?"

"No. None."

"Alright. Well, there is somethin' else."

He took out that small jar again.

"This is too strong. I kin work wit' it, but it gets my head swimmin', and it kin make it hard to get good air. I went callin' on Ms. Hattley, to see if I could meet that doctor again and get me an alternative, but she wouldn't see me. The lady at the door said she was ill."

"So, what do want? You want me to try again for you?"

"That, or you could see about finding the man yerself. He said his name was Mister Richard Jonas. He's a short, well dressed man, wit' baldin' red hair."

I nodded.

Carter said, "Besides that, keep yer eyes an' ears open. The sooner I get Larson, the sooner I leave this town alone."

And who's gonna be saved when that happens? Carter, or The Station?

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Chapter 8, Part One

No Honor Ch. 8 Pt. 1: Bad Neighbors

Moon was perched on Shadow as always, and he was rollin' up smokes, just as casual as can be. He set hisself right across from the front door, and he pretended not to notice the people starin', as they passed him. He didn't even see me, 'til I walked right up on 'im.

"Mister Chatman", he said. "Well, I didn't have to wait long."

"What do you want?"

"I came to make good on our agreement, among other thangs."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small pouch. It jingled, wit' loose coins.

"This is fer-"

"You put that away right now", I said.

There was people staring at us.

"Just keep your money, alright? I don't want it."

He looked really confused, and then after a moment, he wised up some.

"Oh, I get it", he said. "Bad timin' isn't it?"

"You damn right it is, and honestly, I don't know if there is a good time anymore... Did you hear what happened to the grocer?"

Another puzzled look, then he shook his head. I told him the story about Tom and he grimaced, then he lit up a smoke.

"That's terrible", he said. "But I had no way o' knowin', what Marco was gonna do. I reckon now he's gonna be a problem."

"Tell me you're not so stupid, as to go up against him alone 'cause I'll tell ya, he's got quite a few friends, and beatin' those odds ain't likely."

"He's got 30 ta 35 of 'em, by my count."

"That's more than enough to deal with you."

"You're right, it is. And no, I got no intentions o' tryin' ta take 'em all on. But Marco's puttin 'imself between me an' Larson, and sooner-a-later it's comin' to blows. There's nothin' I can do about that."

"Yeah there is", I said, "you can leave the damn thing alone! What sense is there, in stirrin' up shit, and gettin' us killed fer a man that's dyin' anyways?"

"Hold up", he said. "First off, dyin' ain't dead and wit' all due respect, I don't need no tips on doin' my job. I been doin' it fine long enough."

"You won't be doin' shit, you keep on like you are".

"And secondly", he said. "In case you ain't noticed, this town ain't no pleasant get-away. More people got killed last night than you know about."

Someone far behind Moon caught my eye, and as he stepped closer, my body froze up. It was El Hombre, an' he was lookin' tense.

Cater said, "There was this three-way shoot out, nothin' to do wit' me, and some hooker at the hotel got strangled."

"Carter..."

Hombre came up behind Moon, and to his right. He drew his pistol and Carter kept talkin', unawares.

"That's day and night here, and everyone knows that. And if you stay you damn well better believe it."

"Carter!"

He was raisin' that gun, wit' a shaky hand. Damn coward was gonna shoot 'im in the back.

"What? What is it?"

"Carter! Carter!"

He finally looked back and I finally broke whatever held me.

After I hit the ground, I saw Moon swing his right leg over the horse, and he musta pulled his gun but I don't know, I didn't see. But both men fired and both men fell backwards, and Carter hit the ground hard and screamed....

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Chapter 7, Part Two

No Honor / Ch. 7 Pt. 2: Spark

It"d been a while, since I had a proper shave. So, the next mornin', I went on over and called on Percy Lambert. One thing I like about Percy, is that he's clean. I mean, he's combed, gelled, well dressed and pressed, and the same attention goes to his place. All the wood is buffed, and shinin', and all the windas is clear as crystal.
 
I tol' him my order and I took a look around, admiring the place, while he gathered 'is tools. Behind his 'doctor's chair', and on top o' the sink there, I saw an empty glass and one o' those small, brown envelopes...

It was torn at one end.

My heart sunk. I never, at no time, forget where I'm livin'. Everyone here has a hist'ry and everyone here has some reason, for avoidin' a civil life elsewhere, but Percy never looked like he had no hang up like that.

No more than I looked like a gambler, I suppose.

"Wayne? You ready?"

I snapped out of it. "Yessir."

I sat down in the chair, but it wasn't the same. If my uneasiness showed, Mr. Lambert never let it be known. The towel went around me, like every time, and he mixed up that foam, like regular. My heart was nothin' like regular though, and I was lucky he decided to start talkin'.

"Have you heard about Tom Goodman?"

Goodman was the grocer, on 3rd. He had a few young guys, runnin' his place for him, so I hadn't seen 'im in some time.

"No", I said. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Yeah", he said. "I'm sorry to tell you, but he died."

"What happened?"

"Well, your friend Moon happened. It was his offer that killed him."

"What? How so?"

"Tom was up late last night. There was some letters, from his sister they found, so I guess he must of been reading them. In any case, there's a window by his bed, that looks out on the street, and, unfortunately, that's where he set his candle."

"...It was Marco, then."

"It was his friends, yes."

"What they do? Shoot him?"

Percy said, "No no. He was beaten...

"Wayne, I'm real sorry about that. Were you close to him?"

"Naw, I wasn't, it's just... Him, me and Sheldon were the elders. Y'know? We're the oldest, and the ones have been at The Station the longest... it's... it's just a su'prise, that's all."

"I just wanted to tell you, before we got started."

"No, I understand."

He lathered me up, and then he started sharpenin' that blade.

I said, "He didn't know nothin' about that deal. He hadn't been down to the bar in years."

"I just found out about it myself. No, it's a tragedy. A terrible tragedy."

He got to work on me. We were quiet for a while, and then he said, "Shine those boots up for you too, if you want, sir."

"You never sold me on that, Percy. I don't know why you keep askin'."

"Well, we all have to make our money, don't we?"

He finished up, I paid him, an' we shook hands. I had some time to kill, before work, but I wasn't in the mood for much. I had told Dave I'd be out after the weekend, so I figured I'd go to his place, and prepare.


When I got there, I found Carter waitin' outside.
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Chapter 7, Part One

No Honor / Ch. 7 Pt. 1: Closing Arguments.

Marco said, "Okay, everyone, mira....That man es way outta line here. De Station runs, as haven, and hideout, to all who can pay. We say, 'Come to us if you are wanted. Come to us if you are chased.'

"We let him ride off wit' es man, what happens then? Word gets out, we lose visitors, we lose business, we lose money... No 'fifty dollars' es going to cover it... Et won't...

"And Roy es not what 'e says! Do not fall for his trick!

"He will lose faith, he will give up, he will leave soon, or he will be told to... Let's go."

Marco's camp got up, to leave. I looked for El Hombre... the one closer to the doors. He was nowhere to be found, and I reckon he's smart for that. Moon shouldn't have gotten that close to Marco, but he had his gang spooked. All of us were wary of 'im, honestly.

After they all left, the yappin' rose up quick, and continued all night. People wanted to know who this 'Carter Moon' was, and how come he was fightin' for Indians. Was that story even true? The thought o' kids burnin' alive, was enough to sicken a lot of us... Millie, most of all.

Surprisingly though, some folks couldn't have given a damn about that.

Donny said, "What them Indians ever do fer us? You gi' them bastards half a chance, they'd do the same to our young'uns, and us, twice over."

He got cheered, for that.

Still, the topic that came up the most, was whether or not Carter was good for that money. Fifty Dollars is a lot for a man, and I don't know if Marco rightly figured out, what that meant.

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