Western World Page #4

a Colt .45 pistol.

Should they be?

Well, that's what Danny holt

was holding.

I'd say there's a problem.

My, but it has grown

stuffy in here.

Henry,

I should like some air.

Of course.

Just a minute, please.

I prefer we all stay put

until the doctor returns.

Well, I should think that I would be

allowed to come and go as I please.

Some special consideration should

be given, don't you think?

You do remember that I am

a grieving widow?

Well, a widow anyway.

Now just what in the hell

do you mean by that?

Easy now, Henry.

See? Here's what's been

eating at you, sheriff.

The fact that nobody can

remember hearing them shots.

If that .45 caliber had been

fired up in Mrs. Tammery's room,

twice in fact,

well, you and the mayor probably would

have heard it across the street.

And Mr. Mannors here, well, he certainly

would have heard it down in the lobby.

Well, by god.

Yeah, see,

your instincts were good.

Your guts are just bothering you

about the detail,

but you couldn't put

your finger on why.

So what are you saying?

What he's saying, Henry, is that a

different gun killed George Tammery.

That's why we need to see

those slugs.

That is correct.

But Danny holt's gun

had been fired twice,

and we have

Camille's testimony.

Well, that gun's important

for another reason.

If Danny had shot Mr. Tammery

because the man

was advancing on him,

a single slug

from that Colt .45

in the chest from a foot away

would have sufficed.

It'd have thrown Tammery

back across the room

and put him down quick.

So why the second shot?

Well, yeah.

I mean, one shot from a gun like

that would have been self defense.

Yeah, but two shots

from that gun?

Well, that's just

plain murder.

So, what does all this mean?

I am sure that

I do not understand

anything this Marshall says.

You're a beautiful woman,

and that's a fact.

She ain't pretty enough

to hang for, boy.

Tell me, Danny,

how'd you come to fire them

two shots from your pistol?

You own your hotel outright,

Mr. Mannors?

I do.

I assume Mrs. Tammery

knows that.

Now, Marshall,

I certainly understand what you're

saying about the gun and all,

no questions there,

but you're losing me again.

Exactly what is it

you're implying now?

Yeah, help us out here,

Marshall.

It seems to me from what I've seen in

the short time that I've been here,

that, Mr. Mannors

and Mrs. Tammery

have become, quite

familiar with one another.

What with him taking her hand and

calling her Camille and all.

Hell, he's become

downright protective even.

Well, yes,

we have become close.

-What of it?

-Become close how fast?

Just how long have you been

here in town, Mrs. Tammery?

Well, just a little

over a week.

Is this important somehow?

Maybe. Maybe.

Seems awful short time for you two

to become sweet on one another.

My.

I do love the way you express

yourself, Marshall white.

It makes you seem so...

Simple.

You know, now that

I think of it, maybe...

Maybe a week's not too short a

time for cupid's arrow to strike,

not when one party's intentionally

trying to make that happen.

Your point, sir?

My point, Mr. Mannors, is that I did

not just happen to be in rawlins

when I got the telegram

telling me to come here

to look into a lady's husband

being murdered.

In fact, I was on the trail of a young

woman by the name of Lucy silver.

-Who?

-Lucy silver.

She's an ex-saloon girl who's made

a short but colorful career of,

marrying or sometimes

just romancing

men of financial substance

and absconding

with their money.

Now, generally speaking,

she just leaves 'em.

But occasionally,

-she leaves 'em dead.

-The hell you say.

Even before she left the saloon,

she was no one to be crossed.

She once shot a fella during

an argument in medicine bow

in a saloon

she was working in then.

Shot him right in the leg,

right in front

of the medicine bow mayor.

-Lucy, don't.

-Don't what?

Damn it, Lucy.

But she does sound

like a handful.

She is.

One man has already met his maker

under suspicious circumstances,

and at least three more

have been robbed blind.

So when I heard that a woman

meeting her general description

had fleeced a fella in rawlins

and let out for parts unknown,

well, I hurried there

right quick.

But by the time I got there,

well,

the fella had already

left town

in pursuit

of the aforementioned lady.

-And you missed 'em both.

-Yeah, yeah.

But then, by god,

I got a wire from laramie

telling me a stranger

had been killed

right here in dogwood pass

in his estranged wife's

hotel room.

Marshall, what was the name

of that fella from rawlins,

the one that got fleeced?

I think you already figured

that out, sheriff Ramey.

George Tammery.

George Tammery did not

come here

to reconcile with you, Lucy.

He came here to get

his money back.

Things got rough.

You killed him.

And you'd already started

working on Mr. Mannors here

for his money and property.

Nonsense.

Yes, I left George

in rawlins.

I had already

admitted that.

And of course I took

a little money with me.

Now, I wouldn't run out

into the wild

with nothing but the clothes

on my back and an old buggy,

now would I?

And as for this

"Lucy silver,"

I have never heard of her.

Well, let me educate you

on her.

She's about your height

and weight,

got your same beautiful

auburn hair,

and she's smart enough

and pretty enough

to win men over

in short order.

And since leaving the saloons

and going out

on her love 'em

and leave 'em games,

she's been accused

of killing one man

with a Pearl-handled

silver-plated .32 derringer.

She's carried it in a box

since her saloon days.

They say she never goes

anywhere without it,

hence the moniker

"Lucy silver."

Now that is a charming story,

Marshall white.

Almost as charming

as worrying a poor,

defenseless young widow

who only just lost

her husband.

My, but the Marshall service

must be proud of you.

I think I'll be going

to my hotel room now, sheriff.

Henry, I left my buggy

out front.

Would you be a dear

and put it in the livery for me?

Of course, Camille.

Good god, look what

we have here, Marshall.

Show him, Caleb.

Here's your damn slugs,

Marshall.

-Damn sure not a .45 slug.

-Damn sure not.

It's more like .32 caliber

I'd say, wouldn't you?

Well, what does it all mean?

Well, the Marshall here,

he believes our Camille Tammery

is actually an ex-saloon girl

named Lucy silver

who's been getting men

to fall in love with her

and taking off

with their money.

She's also been known to carry

a silver-plated derringer,

one she's used more than once.

I'll be damned.

Did you hear that, Caleb?

Yeah, yeah.

Ma'am, I'm gonna

have to ask you

to reach in your bodice

and if anything's there,

-please produce it.

-I will do no such thing.

And you certainly will not

go in there yourself, sheriff.

No. No, I won't.

But doc moss will.

It's all right, ma'am.

I'm a physician.

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