“What are my choices?”
“Beef stew.”
Lancaster waited, but when the clerk offered no alternative he said, “Beef stew will be great. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Is your horse out front?” the man asked. “I can have it taken to the stable.”
“That’d be helpful. Thanks.”
“What does it look like?”
“You won’t be able to miss it,” Lancaster said, and went upstairs.
The man who brought him his bowl of beef stew looked just like the clerk, only a few years younger.
“My brother said you wanted stew.”
“He didn’t say I had another choice.”
“He likes the stew,” the waiter said. He put it down next to the basket of rolls he had brought earlier. It looked delicious and smelled the same.
“This will do nicely,” Lancaster said.
“Enjoy.”
The man walked away and Lancaster broke a roll, dunked it in the stew, and tasted. It was just as good as it looked. For the next twenty minutes, all he concentrated on was eating that, and a second bowl.
“You were pretty hungry,” the waiter said, collecting the second bowl.
“I didn’t realize how hungry until I tasted your food,” Lancaster said. “Tell me, does everyone in this area eat here?”
“Unless they eat at home,” the waiter said.
“Who lives in the area?”
“There are quite a few ranches around us.”
“Why isn’t the town larger, then?” Lancaster asked. “Why don’t you have a general store? Or a trading post?”
“The ranchers usually go to Audley or Seligman for their supplies,” the waiter said.
“How far are they?”
“Thirty, and thirty-seven miles, thereabouts.”
“But they come here to eat?”
“Unless they stay home.”
“Yes, you said that.”
“Would you like anything else?”
“Some more coffee.”
“Comin’ up.”
A town this size didn’t have much to offer. It didn’t offer much cover, either. If he started asking questions about Chet Adderly, word would get around. He was going to have to figure out a way to get answers without asking too many questions.
Certain questions were harmless, though.
“What’s your name?” he asked the waiter when he brought the coffee.
“George.”
“And your brother?”
“Which one?”
“How many do you have?”
“Well,” he said, “Harry is the cook, Fred is the desk clerk, and Sam runs the livery.”
“Four brothers? And you pretty much run the town?”
George laughed and said, “We are the town.”
“What about the saloon?”
“Our cousin Dan owns it, and he’s the bartender.”
“One big happy family, huh?”
“Except for our sister,” George said. “She’s not so happy.”
“Why?”
“She hates it here. Wants to leave.”
“Why doesn’t she?”
“She doesn’t have a man.”
“She needs a man to leave here?”
George looked shocked. “A young lady can’t travel alone.”
“Oh, right,” Lancaster said. “Uh, how old is your sister?”
“Hermione is forty.”
“Hermione,” Lancaster repeated. “Forty.”
George nodded. “Is that all you want?”
“Yes,” Lancaster said. “Everything was great. How much do I owe you?”
“Two bits.”
Lancaster passed it over and said, “And worth every penny.”
Thirty-seven
Lancaster found out the family last name of George, Harry, Fred, Sam, and Hermione was Dickson. Apparently, Hermione’s age of forty made her the baby.
After the beef stew he walked over to the livery to check on Crow Bait.
“Not many men would give a horse like that a chance,” the liveryman said as he entered.
“You’re Sam, right?”
“That’s right.”
“I met your brothers George and Fred.”
“You had the beef stew?”
“Yes, I did.”
“It was good, huh?”
“It was better than good.”
Sam wiped his hand on his trousers and stuck it out.
Lancaster shook it and said his name.
“Horse don’t look like much, but he’s strong,” Sam said. “What’s his name?”
“Crow Bait.”
That made Sam laugh until he was bent over double, choking. “That’s rich. You come to see if I’ll take good care of him?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, don’t you worry,” Sam said. “He’s in good hands. Why don’t you go over to the saloon and have a drink?”
“And meet your cousin Dan, huh?”
“Dan,” Sam said with a face that said he didn’t like his cousin, “yeah.”
“What’s wrong with Dan?”
Sam shrugged. “He’s a cousin, not a brother.”
That seemed to be reason enough for the dislike.
“Well, I think I’ll take your advice,” Lancaster said. “I hope he’s got cold beer.”
“He’s got it,” Sam said. “We may be a small town, but we got everythin’ you’ll need.” Sam raised his eyebrows, grinned, and added, “Everythin’.”
Lancaster left the livery, wondering if “everything” meant sister Hermione?
Lancaster was unaware that he was being watched from a window on the second floor of the hotel as he crossed over to the saloon. The white lace curtain was pulled aside, remained that way until he entered the saloon, then fell back across the window.
The saloon was empty, except for the bartender. If Lancaster hadn’t been told that Dan was a cousin, he wouldn’t have recognized him as family. He didn’t look anything like the brothers. For one thing, they all had gray hair, while his was pitch-black.
“Welcome to the Peach Springs Saloon, friend,” the bartender said.
“You’re Dan, right?”
“Ah, I see you met my cousins already.”
“I did.”
“Well, belly up and tell me what your pleasure is.”
“Beer,” Lancaster said, “cold.”
“Comin’ up.”
Lancaster took off his hat, set it on the bar, and ran his hands through his hair.
“Been ridin’ long?” Dan asked, setting the beer down.
“Long enough.” Lancaster took two swallows of the cold beer, closed his eyes as the cold ran through him. How easy it would be just to sit and drink, switch to whiskey, and just drift away…
“You must be passin’ through,” Dan said.
“Why do you say that?”
“That’s all anybody ever does, pass through here. Nobody ever stops for more than a day or two.”
“And if they stop for a day or two, what is there to do?” Lancaster asked.
“Nothin’,” Dan said, “nothin’ at all.”
“Your cousin Sam said I could get anything I want here,” Lancaster said.
“Yeah, well,” Dan said, “that depends on how bad you want it.”
“Well, the food and the beer are good.”
“If you like beef stew all the time,” Dan said.
“Is that all your cousin Harry can make?”
“No,” Dan said, “he can make bacon and eggs.”
“Bacon and eggs and stew? That’s it?”
“Rolls,” Dan said. “He can bake rolls.”
“Well, that’s food and beer, anyway,” Lancaster said. “What about…other things?”
“Can’t get no supplies,” Dan said. “I mean, we could probably sell you some cartridges, let you have some coffee and bacon for the trail.”
“And that’s it?”
“What else is there?”
“Women?”
Dan made a face.