Sliphammer by Brian Garfield Page B

strange dogs on unfamiliar territory. Tree had come to Gunnison prepared to be impressed; Earp, hard-nosed and yet judicious, had not disappointed him. He did not want to think his judgment or intentions could be colored by the tall shadow of the Wyatt Earp legend, but he had taken care to make sure that was not the case. He had poked and prodded and by now he was more than satisfied. As a result, more than ever he did not want to have to try to arrest Earp.
    While he stood watching, Josie Earp came out of the Inter Ocean, pouted at the rain, and said something to Wyatt, who nodded and gave her his sly, slow smile and whacked her rump affectionately before she turned to go back inside. At the door she paused and gave Tree a long direct glance. She excited his interest, and she knew it: she was a girl who exuded a subtle air of compressed amoral sexuality, calculated—by design or by nature—to excite a man. With a fleeting lidded smile she pulled her glance away from Tree and went inside, hips churning.
    Tree dropped off the boardwalk and quartered across the muddy street, climbed onto the porch and kicked excess mud off his boots, and walked down the rail to where Earp sat. Earp only looked up when he stopped six feet away.
    â€œPull up a chair. I hate to have to look up at a man.”
    â€œYou could stand up.”
    â€œStill digesting my breakfast,” Earp replied, and waved his -cigar toward a vacant rocking chair. “You keep regular hours for a man with nothing to do.”
    â€œHabit, I guess.” Tree pulled the rocker forward and sat, batting his hat against the side of the chair and hooking it over his knee. “Another day of this and the whole town will float away.”
    â€œHeard anything from Denver?”
    Tree looked at him and grinned. “Now ask me a question you don’t already know the answer to.”
    â€œIf it’s any comfort to you,” Earp said, “I haven’t had any word either.” Which meant he had no news about whether there had been any success in his long-distance effort to pull strings in the Governor’s office.
    â€œNo particular comfort,” Tree said.
    â€œYou’d just as soon have it over with.”
    â€œOne way or the other—either way,” Tree agreed. “Waiting drags on a man’s nerves.” He gave Earp a sharp, sudden scrutiny in an effort to detect whether Earp felt the same pressure.
    There was no change in Earp’s expression—the impassive face of the professional gambler. He said, “Put that you get orders to arrest me. What do you do?”
    â€œIf I didn’t mean to follow orders I wouldn’t be here at all.”
    Earp’s big head moved back and forth morosely. “Then you’re a gold-plated fool, amigo. Digging yourself a grave.”
    Tree shrugged. “You can’t lead my kind of life and expect to live forever. Yours either.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. I expect to live to a ripe old age.” Earp gave him a guileless cocked-eyebrow glance; hard to tell whether he. meant it humorously. “If I’m religious about anything,” Earp said, “it’s that. I firmly believe I’ll have my threescore and ten, and then some.”
    â€œWho told you that? Tea leaves or a crystal ball?”
    Earp shifted his seat, leaned back and crossed his legs. He murmured, “Let’s use cards, Deputy—let’s lay them face up on the table. Now, I’ve been gentle with you because nobody had to tell me the courage it took for you to come in here at me, in a town where every gun’s against you. It takes guts to humble yourself to duty, obey an order you don’t like and maybe don’t even believe in. But you came here carrying the seeds of trouble—for me and my family. Every time the clock ticks it could mean you’re coming at us with a warrant and a gun. I don’t intend to hang, or see my brother hang, for doing