“Why don’t we go inside—”
“Too noisy,” Sheriff Manning said. “Let’s talk out here.”
“Okay,” Lancaster said. “Okay.”
Forty-eight
“What’s on your mind?” Lancaster asked.
“I talked to Abe Walker,” Manning said. “He’s the Wells Fargo man here.”
“And?”
“He confirmed what you told me,” Manning said.
“Okay.”
“But you told me you’re trackin’ a man named Sweet?” Manning said. “He only knows that you were hired to find a man named Beck.”
“I told you that,” Lancaster said. “I gave you both names.”
“Yeah, but you told me you were tracking both of them for Wells Fargo.”
“I don’t think I really said that, Sheriff.”
“Well, you led me to believe it.”
“If I did, sorry,” Lancaster said.
“What’s this about Sweet?”
“He and a couple of partners were hired to kill me,” Lancaster said. “They almost succeeded.”
“So you’re hunting them.”
“Him,” Lancaster said. “Sweet.”
“What about the others?”
“They’re dead.”
“Killed by you?”
“No,” Lancaster said. “They got killed before I could find them.”
“So you need Sweet to find the man who hired him.”
“Right.”
“Any leads yet?”
“There’s a bartender in here who’s real observant,” Lancaster said. “I’m gonna ask him what he knows.”
“What about Maisie’s?”
“I went there. Sweet was only with one girl, and she left town.”
“Oh yeah,” Manning said. “Hurtin’ that girl was the last straw. That’s when I ran him out.”
“What was the first straw?”
“He started some trouble here,” Manning said. “Got into a fight.”
“With who?”
“Another stranger,” Manning said. “He left town the next day.”
“Damn.”
“But your bartender might be able to tell you more,” the lawman said. “Which one are you talkin’ about?”
“I don’t know his name, but he looks real experienced.”
“Probably Ray,” Manning said. “Tell him I said he should help you any way he can.”
“Thanks, I will.”
“I’ve got to finish my rounds,” Manning said. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”
“Right.”
Lancaster watched the sheriff walk off, then went through the batwings into the Broken Branch Saloon.
Lancaster got himself a spot at the end of the bar this time. It was away from a lot of the action, probably the quietest place in the saloon. The bartender brought him his beer and said, “On the house.”
“I only had half comin’,” he reminded the man.
“That’s okay,” the bartender said. “Drink however much of it you want.”
“Are you Ray?” Lancaster asked.
The bartender had been in the act of turning away. He stopped short and looked at Lancaster.
“That’s right,” he said. “How’d you know?”
“The sheriff told me,” Lancaster said.
“Why would he do that?”
“He said you could help me.”
“With what?”
“I’m looking for somebody.”
“Bounty hunter?”
“No,” Lancaster said, “this is personal.”
“Anythin’ to do with that scar over your eye?”
“Yes.”
“So, who you lookin’ for?”
“A man named Sweet,” Lancaster said. “The sheriff told me he caused some trouble in here a couple of weeks ago.”
“Well,” Ray said, “we did have some trouble, but we always have some trouble. What makes you think I can tell one troublemaker from another?”
“Because you’ve been at this job a long time,” Lancaster said. “You notice things—like me only drinking half a beer.”
“Well,” Ray said with a grin, “when a fella orders a beer and doesn’t drink it all, that’s kinda obvious.”
“Still,” Lancaster said, “I think you notice things that aren’t so obvious.”
“Like what?”
“Like a man like Sweet looking for trouble,” Lancaster said. “Talkin’ too loud at the bar? Maybe sayin’ somethin’ about where he’s headed.”
Ray leaned on the bar and pulled on his lower lip. “Sweet, Sweet…Sheriff ran him out of town, right? Damaged one of Maisie’s girls?”
“That was the story,” Lancaster said.
“Whataya mean?”
“The girl may not have been so damaged,” he said. “Looks like she might have followed him.”
“To where?”
“That’s the question,” Lancaster said. He didn’t want to put any ideas into the bartender’s head by mentioning Texas.
“Well, gimme some time to think about it and maybe somethin’ will come to me.”
“I can give you some incentive—” Lancaster said, reaching into his pocket.
“No, no,” Ray said, “I ain’t tryin’ to squeeze ya. If the sheriff said I can help ya, then I will—if I can.”
“Okay,” Lancaster said. “Then I’ll check back in with you tomorrow.”
“When do you wanna leave town?” Ray asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“So no pressure, huh?”
“Just whatever you can do for me, Ray.”
Ray gave Lancaster a salute and went back to work. Lancaster finished off his beer and turned in.
Forty-nine
In the morning Lancaster went to the livery to make sure Crow Bait would be ready to travel.
“Hey, mister,” the liveryman said, “your horse just about ate me outta oats.”
“He’s got a good appetite.”
“I know! And it don’t show on ’im. But don’t you worry, I’ll have him ready to travel.”
“Much obliged. Maybe about midday.”
He left the livery and went back to Bessie’s for breakfast. The young waitress served him but didn’t make any conversation.
After breakfast he figured he had two stops to make. He had to talk to Ray and to Sheriff Manning. He had to talk to Manning first, because the Broken Branch wasn’t open yet.
As he entered the sheriff’s office, he was struck by how cramped it was.
“I know,” Manning said, when he saw the look on Lancaster’s face. “They’re supposed to be building a new jail. That’s why I was goin’ to a meeting yesterday.”
“How’d it come out?”
“Not good,” the lawman said. “Half the town council thinks they need a church. Another church.”
“Too bad. What’s the other half say?”
“That’s what the mayor is workin’ on. You come to say good-bye?”
“Almost,” Lancaster said. “I still have to talk to Ray this morning. What time’s the Broken Branch open?”
“Ten, but hell, go over and bang on the door. He’s usually in earlier to clean the place up and get it set up for the day.”
“Thanks,” Lancaster said. “The quicker I talk to him, the sooner I can be on my way.”
“I hope you find what you’re lookin’ for,” the lawman said.
“I will,” Lancaster said.
“You sound sure.”
“I am,” Lancaster said, “because I won’t stop until I do find them.”
He left the sheriff’s office, crossed over to the Broken Branch, and banged on the locked door.
Ray opened the door and peered out at Lancaster through one good eye. The other one was swollen shut.
“Hey, come in,” he said, backing away. “You want some breakfast?”
“I ate,” Lancaster said. “What happened to your eye?”
“I ran into two friends of Sweet’s last night,” he said.
Lancaster followed him to a table in the back, where he was eating ham and eggs.