Bull Mountain(50)

“Never heard of an Allen Bankey.” Clayton swallowed the water in two gulps. “But bring the file by the office tomorrow and I’ll take a look.”

“Done,” Holly said, and guzzled half his drink.

“Hey, Sweet Tits,” roared a voice at the other end of the bar. Clayton looked over and shook his head. Big Joe Dooley was back, looking to fill his glass and blowing kisses at Nicole. Clayton pushed up off his stool and put on his hat. “I’ll be right back.”

Holly saw Clayton steady himself from the alcohol-induced head rush but made no attempt to help him. He watched curiously as the sheriff crossed the room and grabbed Joe Dooley by the scruff of hair on the back of his thick, sweaty neck. Before the big boy could react, Clayton pushed down hard and slammed Joe’s forehead into the copper-plated bar. The crack of bone on metal reverberated through the room and knocked over several glasses to both sides of them. People scattered and jumped out of the way, making space for the big boy to fall, but Clayton didn’t let go. He held Joe’s face there against the bar to anchor himself until he could twist one of Joe’s arms up and behind his back. Holly smiled. He was impressed that the sheriff could hold his own as drunk as he was. He used the moment to fish a few Percocet from his pocket and washed them down with the rest of his bourbon.

“I thought I told you to watch your mouth,” Clayton said.

Joe answered the best he could from the position he was in. “No, you didn’t. You . . . you . . . told me to move . . . I did.”

“I told you to stay clear of Nicole.” Clayton pushed down hard, smearing the left side of Joe’s face flatter against the cold metal. Nicole stood back, wide-eyed, with both hands covering her mouth. Holly almost laughed out loud.

“Well, goddamn, Sheriff,” Joe said through the side of his mouth not smashed down against the bar. “How am I supposed to get a drink around here? She’s the only one working.”

“Not my problem.”

“This is bullshit. I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

“Maybe I just don’t like the way you talk to women, Joe.”

“Maybe I don’t care what you think.” Joe was getting over his fear of the badge now, being more in fear of town-wide embarrassment. Clayton could feel him starting to buck. He leaned in. “Say you’re sorry.”

“Fuck you.”

That’s when Holly saw the lights go out in Clayton’s face. He’d seen that look before on the faces of a lot of men he’d had to put down. The sheriff went full dark. Holly knew he would. Clayton yanked down hard on Big Joe’s neck and kicked his legs out from underneath him. Joe hit the floor hard. Falling bar stools collided into the few remaining patrons, who quickly made for the exits. Clayton used a size-eleven cowboy boot to kick Joe over flat on his back, and then used that same boot to step down on his face. “Fuck who?”

Holly sipped his water and stood. He was amazed at how fast it had happened. He’d almost written Clayton off as a sloppy drunk. Nothing like what he’d expected him to be, but he was wrong. He didn’t even realize how wrong until he saw Clayton’s gun drawn and pointed at Joe’s head. He never even saw him draw it.

“Whoa, Sheriff,” Holly said, stepping into the fray. “That’s enough. Put it away. Let him up.”

“Apologize,” Clayton said again, not letting the big man move.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, I’m sorry.”

Clayton thumbed back the hammer. “To the girl, fat ass. Apologize to the girl.” A dark stain spread over Big Joe’s crotch as he pissed himself.

“I’m sorry, Nicole. Jesus, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Holly put both his hands up in front of Clayton as a form of surrogate surrender for the man on the floor. “Put it away, Sheriff. Put the gun away and let him up.”

Clayton switched his rabid glare from Big Joe to Agent Holly, who kept his hands up and repeated slowly, “Put . . . it . . . away.” Clayton finally did. He slid the Colt into his holster and took his foot off Joe’s face. The big boy scuffled away across the floor toward the door. When he got outside, a few people in the crowd helped him to his feet. For a moment he looked like he was going to say something, but Holly stopped him with three words. From the door, he pointed one finger at Big Joe and said, “Don’t. Just go.” Big Joe took the advice.

Holly turned his attention back to Clayton, who hadn’t moved. He stood staring at the floor as if Joe were still down there. “I think you’re done here, Sheriff.” He laid a cautious hand on Clayton’s shoulder. “Let me take you home.”

Clayton wore a look on his face like he’d just woken from surgery that required a heavy anesthetic. “Okay,” he said. Holly looked back to Nicole, who hadn’t moved much, either, except to survey the damage done to her daddy’s place. He nodded at her, then toted Clayton out to his car.

4.

Kate came out on the porch holding a .30-.30 before Holly could open the door on Clayton’s side of the Crown Vic. Holly knew about Kate. He knew from photos that she was beautiful, but her standing there with that rifle, in nothing but an oversized nightshirt, put her on the list of the top ten sexiest women he’d ever seen. The porch light silhouetting her legs through the thin material drove her up to the top five. She could see someone else in the car but couldn’t make out who it was. “Who are you and what do you want?”